Stalked!!

image courtesy: Hitha

I walk through…

When your butt is literally stuck to a swiveling chair for about 11 hours a day, walking happens to be the most happening of an activity in your otherwise mundane life! This small endeavor that takes me home is filled with interesting subjects worth being observed, worth being heard and worth being felt.

So the race begins from Sree Moolam club junction which is at its busiest, in the evenings. The city chef vehicle which appears only in the dusk is parked in line with all those expensive cars in front- with drivers, without drivers. The aroma of the exquisite cuisine confined to the lit interiors of the van, attract as many nocturnal beings as does the hungry food lovers. I pass the plates of parathas, chappathis, beef fries, chilly chickens stepping up the kerb, stepping down the kerb, to reach the Tagore Theater.  A dark background is symptomatic that the theater is free of any programs/shows. On nights such as these, when only the sodium lamps make visibility a novel idea, you can catch the trees cast shadows long and forlorn. The round and luminous moon peeping from behind the trees has this hypnotic zeal which literally pulls me to him. I love gazing at him, enjoying it as far as I could get with my unusually fast stride, straining against the canopies of trees, against the clouds that would appear all of a sudden!

The lights of the cars and bikes and the odd vehicles are not only blinding, they make my presence all the more conspicuous.  I hurry across the walkway, for I know I am being watched. I cant blame them. I am a lone lady crossing from kerb to kerb, dodging men walking leisurely, men talking on phones, men hurrying across odd jobs, never failing to cast a glance over me.

For the 1001th time, I wished I wasn’t so noticeable. For the 1001th time, I wished I could melt away into the invisible realms. For the 1001th time, I wished I was merely an observer than the observed

The encounters:

The power savvy: They stopped about 100m ahead of me and started on their business of ‘scaring the weaker sex’. The unflinching indomitable look plastered on my face actually concealed a trembling me who was praying feverishly, oh gods please don’t let them attack me physically! And wasn’t I lucky? J

The amateur: The guy had probably hoped for an encounter, but as I fumbled in my bag for a pen knife, the guy first started walking backwards and then turned into a sprint. The fear on the plausible perpetrator made the incident all the more hilarious! J

The pervert: It was a biker. While slapping, he sure did lose his balance but recovered just in time to ride off into the darkness. It took a min for my reflex actions to start working. Till date I have not been able to forgive myself for not having at least thrown a stone at him!  L

Care for a walk now?

So the walking which used to be a rejuvenating experience has literally turned into a nightmare. At some point of time, I did wonder how different it would have been had there been a lover/ spouse/ male friend. Surely if he cared enough, he would accompany me, make it a leisurely experience and I would sleep off gratefully for another abuse free day! But for how long? How long is anyone going to be there? My experiences have time again solidified the age old saying ‘thanikk thaanum perakk thunum’.

I should maybe equip myself with a pepper spray [as my concerned male friends not anywhere near me to help me, advised me].  Or I should take the rickshaw [it’s rarely that I do not fight with the driver], or maybe even better - get a vehicle for myself [I so hate driving]. The needs of the times suggest that I seriously consider mastering one of the martial art forms (just in case!).

So moral of the story is- a woman who walks the streets at 7.30 in the evenings is bound to be stalked! So lady - change your lifestyle!  A heartfelt thanks to the sexually frustrated male population of a sex deprived moralistic hypocritical society. Should I squeeze in more adjectives? L