Being 11

 I was returning from school to my grandmother's house, walking down with our elderly caretaker who has been around ever since my toddler days. i was probably 11 or 12 years old when this happened. our school uniform was a white loose pinafore which didn't covered our knees.school to home was a 15 minutes walk but it seemed like eternity that day. maybe it was a growing awareness of the stares and nudges among the men in the street, maybe i was not aware of it before? From the peanut vendor to the petrol pump guys and every gateman we crossed,i realised the trick was never look them in the eye. The moment you do- That Look takes over! ofcourse, i didn't know what a lecherous look was- That Look just made my stomach churn! i still recall the relief of turning into our lane - a motor garage flanked our compound wall. A soot covered mechanic zoomed by in a derelict Amabassador car or one of those old fashioned Fiat, can't recall now- lunging out , beating against car door, whistling and commenting. This went on till i was 13- nearly every day till my brother and I shifted out with my mother when she remarried.coming home from school became a nightmare. more so with my aged caretaker being a silent witness. only kailash singh ji from gaya protested- he was a burly durwanji who joined our service as a gatekeeper after my uncle's factories closed down. he was adept at weilding a laathi.Ma and I are back to staying the family house after nearly 20 years- and guess who I saw a few days back? mr. mechanic, a little older no wiser. ofcourse, he gave me a once over as our paths crossed in front of the grocers shop but that's it. he didn't recognise me, thankfully though i couldn't care less. but I never forgot.

Action Shero Anonymous

Place: Calcutta