The year was 2002 and I was on my way home from college, walking my usual route through the park to reach home. It was a bright summer afternoon with its usual crowd of fellow commuters and roadside public. Just another day, until I saw them walking. Saw them look at me and slow down their pace.
The entrance to the park was the typical 3-line maze barrier, designed to limit entry/exit to one person at a time - and when I saw them look at me and slow down, somehow, in that split second before I entered the barrier, I knew what they intended to do. For once you're in the middle of the maze barrier, you can take exactly one step forward or back - you cannot walk sideways. You're trapped.
I'd already entered the maze and so had they. And I remember the look in their eyes as I met their gaze. I knew what I had to do - and when they reached out to grab me, trapped by walls on either sides, I swung my handbag as a weapon and lashed out blindly, arms and legs flying any which way, aiming for one assailant's groin with my knee and trying to scratch the others face with my nails. And the bag as a shield worked terrifically (which is why, till date, I always carry over-sized handbags to work and play). And I screamed like a banshee all this while, hurled invectives, spouted venom, cursed like the Punjabi that I am - anything vile that came to immediate recall was deployed as my third weapon. I had not time to think or be scared - only to defend and fight with every inch of my being. They fled. One of them made a move as if to come back and I threw stones and continued screaming. And then, I ran out of the park as fast as I could. Thank god for adrenaline and comfortable shoes - I ran like I'd never run before until I reached the local marketplace and then collapsed.
I was lucky. So goddamned lucky - that they weren't carrying knives, they didn't seem to have planned this out much in advance, that my split second hunch had armed me, that I chose to wear comfortable clothes and sneakers, and that, when the time came, I fought and probably scared the shit out of them. But most of all, I was lucky in that my assailants were kids. They were street urchins - One must've been around 13-14 years of age and the other looked to be 9 or 10. And when the adrenaline wore off, taking with it my exultation at being able to defend myself, the 'What If 's hit with a vengeance and I shivered in the bright noon-time sun.
I dialed for a male friend to come and get me from the marketplace - merely stating that it was an emergency. Called D, who was waiting for my usual I've-reached-home-I'm-safe ring and told him that I'd speak with him later (because I needed to get home before the tears and full blown hysteria came). Reached home, cried my eyes out, decided not to tell the folks but to change my commuting route and take the longer way home using only the main roads. And worked out other DIY safety rules.
I've never talked about this ever since that day. Or about the time when I was walking 8 year old sister home from the day care center and figured two burly men were following us in the rapidly falling twilight - I used my extensive knowledge of gallis and street lanes to evade them till I reached Nani's house and then called for mom to pick us up on her way home from work. And to poor, perplexed Sim, who was wondering why Didi insisted on playing this game of running, stopping, hiding and dodging, I explained that we were indeed playing a game, a sort of Aliens-are-after-us pretend game of Hide and Seek. Thank god for my li'l girl's active imagination, hyperactive athleticism and supreme belief in me - she followed orders to run, dodge and hide uncomplainingly and without tantrums. And we reached home-base without any aliens or bad guys.
There are more incidents like these than I care to recall, and one which I will never ever speak about. Growing up in Delhi - you learn to 'manage'. You learn to 'cope'. You learn to live with constant fear as a woman and you learn to figure out your own 'jugaads' . You learn to live within the freedom of the 7am-7pm parental curfew. You learn to dress within the acceptable confines of over-sized tees and baggy jeans (T and the girl gang, and the rest of you who thought that was me being geeky chic - nope! It was one more safety rule that I devised to blend in and not draw unwanted and unwarranted male attention ). D - now you know why my dressing style changed when I reached Mumbai - for once, I could wear what I liked without an inordinate amount of fear over what might happen.
And why did I choose to not tell my parents ? Because there was nothing they could've done - short of restricting my freedom of movement completely and asking me to wear a burqa. And for two folks who'd always considered their daughters as treasures and raised them without a gender bias, I did not want to make it painfully obvious to them at the end of the day, they'd raised two members of the weaker sex, who, outside of the chaardiwari would always be lesser citizen of this goddess worshipping nation. I knew and I'd make sure that Sim knew when the time was right - and that was enough.
Delhi is home - I grew up here. School's here, Nani's here, Connaught Place and my memories of Nirula's and India Gate and chasing balloons at Children's Park and of Beating Retreat and morning walks and after dinner jogs (Papa walked and I jogged to keep up! ), the usual drama of teen angst and tree-lined avenues and the ruins of Indraprastha and history at the turn of every corner. And the flag flying from the ramparts at the Red Fort. My roots are here.
And so is the fear that I've grown up with. And that I live with every day.
(Excuse the typos - this is one piece that has been years in the making and now that I've poured it all out, I have no wish to revisit this one)
