A few days ago, I was walking back home from the neighbourhood library when a man riding pillion, whistled at me. Not content with that, he also blew me a kiss and pointed at his crotch. And then cackling wildly, they went out of sight.
Now half the people in my country would say, ‘Tch, you must have dressed provocatively and enticed those poor men’. The subtler ones would say, ‘You must have … cough, invited it upon yourself … who asked you to walk alone at night?’
I was a full-sleeved red kurta with a high neck, and straight-cut jeans. I wasn’t wearing any flashy jewellery or makeup, and my hair was in a messy bun. By no standards was I looking attractive or alluring in any way. Heck, I couldn’t have attracted a cockroach. A sari, the most ‘respectable’ attire in our country, couldn’t have covered my body better. Only my face was unexposed. And you know what? When that man first whistled at me, he could only see my back. Which means, he could basically see that I was a woman. And that was enough for him.
Also, it was 4 in the afternoon, and I was walking through one of the posher areas — a locality with the most expensive restaurants, clubs and shops in the city.
So, Revered Guardians of the Indian Culture, when are you going to understand that you need to prosecute actual offenders, not Clothes?
Fudge 