ayesha

I was going to the health camp organised by a community-based organisation on the Human Rights Day (Dec 10). I took the metro from Tollygunge to Dum Dum. The metro was already crowded when we boarded. I was standing near the door, holding an overhead grab-handle.

There was a woman standing by the door in front of me. I noticed that she was wearing a green kurti, pink sweater, and duppatta. I was wearing a green salwar-kurti with dupatta. Our eyes met and I passed a smile. She smiled back. But then she looked at me, puzzled. Then burst out in a laugh (not a boisterous laugh, no sounds, but a laugh that was mocking me). She looked away, then looked at me, and then laughed again. I asked her, in English, “Are you ok?” She said, “yes, I am OK.” I was annoyed. I stood more firmly, looking glassily straight ahead. Her eyes scanned my body and my chest. Then she laughed again. She started communicating with a similar-aged man standing across from her. They were traveling together. He was wearing brown slacks and a patterned deep blue button-up shirt. He looked a bit embarrassed. I had a bag slung over my shoulder and a water bottle in my hand. I clutched them tightly. She could see that I am uncomfortable. She laughed openly at me now.

I wondered what I should do? Doing nothing or moving away did not seem like an option. What happens if I protest? What's the chance that people might beat me up? Would I be able to handle it if this situation escalates? I felt alone.

The train was crowded. A couple of men standing beside me were noticing what is going on. I whispered loudly. “oshobho.” She scanned my genital regions with her eyes and laughed. “Rude.” I said more loudly, “Lajja kore na ei dhoron’er byabohar korte?” The man she was talking to called her to his side. She went and clung to his hand. She laughed again, and started talking to him about me. Everyone around could hear her talking about me. He wasn’t engaging, but she continued to try to get him to also make fun of me. It had been about 10 min since the journey started. It felt like an hour. I looked at the men beside me and said “ki dhoron er oshobhota, dekhuun” Their faces were like stone. But her boyfriend sternly told her to shut up. She complied but was angry at him. 

It felt a sort of victory, and I started smiling. She then started to quarrel with him about other things. Quarrelling with her companion was her way of registering protest. Seeing her cling to him and quarrel with him at the same time, I felt kinda sad. It felt like she was trapped in his protection. It felt so strange. We could have been friends, right? We could be collaborators on challenging patriarchy? And here we were, both protected by a man.