The Road Taken Home

With every step forward,  her heart sank further into her gut.
She concentrated on the beating of her heart to keep herself from listening to the voices around her. She walked straight- looking confident and fearless. However, inside, parts of cynicism and fear took over her.

Vroooooooom.
A motorbike raced past her. Her heartbeat stopped for a moment, her muscles became ready to move swiftly, and anger swelled up in her.
Ten seconds later, she realized that she was safe. Nothing had happened. The motorbike belonged to a pizza delivery guy, who was honestly doing his work. 

For a moment she felt guilty of doubting his intentions. Then she told herself that it wasn't really her fault for fearing every motorcyclist after that man had touched her against her consent the other night. That night, she hadn't let her husband touch her, either. She wasn't as strong. 

She walked on, with the alertness of a hawk. It was a long walk from the office to her home; she wished she could put on her earphones and listen to some music to kill time. Though, it wasn't practical, obviously. What if someone took advantage of the lack of her attention?
Midway, she reached to the most dreaded part of her walk. She had to walk a hundred meters into a narrow, isolated lane. The lane remained dark despite the two street lights. 

Reluctantly, she took her turn.
She saw a group of men sitting in one corner and playing cards.
Were they drunk? She couldn't say. 

She stiffened her body. She prepared herself to attack in self defense as a reflex. She kept her hand inside her purse and held on to the pepper spray. Inside, she was breaking with the uncertainty. Outside, she was a woman of steel.
She kept on walking, anticipating a hand on her breast, or probably something worse. She kept her muscles flexed. In her mind, she recalled all the self defense moves she had learned on the internet.
One man got up and moved towards her.
Her soul froze but her body moved forward as swiftly as possible. Time seemed to move at its slowest, deriving perverse pleasures from her fear.
She clenched her fist, almost fished out the pepper spray, and found words in her mouth to scream when he just passed her by.
He passed her by to slap a newcomer a high five. 

She sighed of relief. 

   

She was just almost home.
The treacherous heat of June didn't bid goodbye even at nights. She wished she could remove her dupatta, which was drained with sweat. But then, she'd rather be perspiring from the heat, than of rebel and struggle. 

She was ten steps away from home.
With every step, she felt closer to success.
The work at office was less of a struggle as compared to the journey back home.
As she took her last step towards the gate of her apartments, a man of about twenty three years of age, driving a posh red car, slowed down near her and cried- "MAAL" and sped off. 

She just shook her head and walked inside the gate.
"Tomorrow," she thought "Beware of cars, too." 

Familiar, isn't it? 

This, is perhaps the story of every woman's journey on the street.
Oh, the feeling of suspecting every single man on the road.
Oh, the feeling of bitterness which runs in our blood, while on the road. 

Oh, the feeling of hearing- "You're a girl. These are the things you'll have to face. There's nothing you can do about it." 

There's nothing we can do about Street Harassment, they say.