Being 9

I've always been aware of catcalls and whistles and stares, ever since I was a young girl growing up in the 90s in what used to be one of the safest cities in India - Kolkata. It's hard to recall my first memory.

At some time it had started to seem a matter of course that running errands for my mum at the grocer's nearby in the evenings would mean crossing the group of boys sitting around in their bikes and leering. It was also a matter of course that I would have my head bowed with fear of eye contact. I may have heard them say things clearly aimed at me which I didn't understand at the time, though I felt the intent vaguely. Or they sang snatches of film songs when I passed. I was terrified of going out into the streets alone and would slouch to blur my growing breasts.

Though I'm relatively more equipped to handle eve-teasing now than when I was 9 (well not really; petite me was hugged successively last year by a random old man and a high school student on Delhi streets), I'm still afraid of the chance eye-contact with strangers on the street. It's ridiculous, having to live with that fear and walking blinkered because of a large number of men that would probably get a hard-on at the sight of a polo mint.

Action Shero Kaushani

Place: Kolkata, India

Being 12

Since my parents were quite protective of me in my childhood it was quite a while before I was confronted with this looming issue. The earliest memory of street harassment would be when I would walk alone to the market nearby and could literally feel the gaze of several jobless men on the road. There was singing songs, sleazy dialogues from Hindi movies and the whispered or loud remarks as I walked by. It failed to bother me after a point.

It was maybe because I never risked wandering into an empty lane alone as a child or I lived on a busy street that my earliest memory of street harassment is nothing that scarred me forever. However the feeling is something that makes me uncomfortable and causes me to hasten my pace as I'm walking on the road, avoiding eye contact or any sort of communication with the person who causes this discomfort.

Action Shero Pallavi Dutta

Place: Kolkata

Being 4

Calcutta. Maidan. February 27th. 8pm. My mother and I were really excited about the elaborate book fair that took place every spring. We entered this stall of books on art. Ever since i was a child, those books appealed to me. So engrossed in one of the books, I failed to notice the presence of a middle aged man (my guess would be 40ish) too close for comfort. Suddenly, this man started commenting on a human anatomy book, few decibels above normal, as if to grab my attention. He said things like "Bah, ki shundor...ei shober-i toh dorkar". (Wow, so beautiful, only all this is important). I looked at what he was commenting and was highly disturbed to see him staring at a rendering of a nude woman. I kept glancing through other books, as it was the ONLY way by which i could ignore what had just happened. Soon enough i could feel something poking me. I swiftly turned to find that very man rubbing his erected genitals on me. I was in a state of shock and my mind was blank. Somehow my instincts made me run to my mom who was just five steps away. I couldn't explain to her anything at that moment but just pointed out to that man. I don't know what she understood, what she assumed but she guarded me from that man and we left that stall.

Shockingly enough, that man followed us to the next stall without our notice, and this time he tried the same thing on my mom. Both of us petrified, left that place immediately and were too scared to even console each other.

Action Shero Anonymous

Place: Kolkata

Being 15

This was in 1996. I was walking down Wood Street in Kolkata with a friend. We were heading towards my house which was just about 4 mins by walk. The time was about 7:30PM. We were busy talking while we walked. Suddenly I looked towards my right and my friend was not there. Then I looked around and walked back to find her. I saw a man with his back towards me. I walked upfront and realized that he was forcefully trying to kiss her and she was struggling. Instantly I pulled her towards we with all my strength. The stranger pulled out a knife from his pocket and said "chilayegi to chod dunga". I was too shocked to believe what was going on. At that moment I could not think of doing anything else but run for our lives. I grabbed my friends hand and we started to run as fast as possible. We were both trembling with fear. We reached my house and informed both our parents immediately. My friend kept crying and brushing her teeth. Her parents came to pick her up. She did not come to school for a week. I can imagine the trauma she went through. My hands and legs were trembling for a long time and I could not sleep properly. The face of that molester kept coming in my head. He was a short stout, bald middle aged man with blood-shot red eyes. I can still remember his face after so many years. If I would ever see him again I would want him behind bars.

Action Shero Anonymous

Place: Kolkata

Being 12

I was in a public bus going to school and I remember those eyes staring at me. I was in my uniform. It was a white colour physical training (PT) uniform. I remember being stared at almost the entire journey. It almost felt as if I was not wearing any clothes. I remember being so uncomfortable with my body.

There are two more such memories all between the age range of 12-15. One was where I was groped in the bus and I was too young to do any thing about it but I was so angry with myself and felt like cutting off that part of me.

The earliest experience of being violated was at such a young age that its much later in life that I realized what that man was doing. He was a half bald man, the uncle types, a man in his mid 40's and he would often come in the public bus I would travel back home in. He would give a smile, help me find a seat and then come near me and and rub his penis on my hand. I would be holding on to my school bag and my hand would be in such a position that he could easily do it. It only years later that I remembered that warm sensation on my hand and I don't know how I figured out what was actually happening.

Its not that I was unaware of things at that age. My mother has always been very particular about discussing harassment on the road and what safety measures my sister and I should take if such an event is to occur but it did not even strike me!

Action Shero Parmeet

Place: Kolkata

Being 11

I was about 11 or 12, don't remember exactly, but I do remember by first incident of street sexual harassment rather vividly, because it was one of the worst I've encountered till date. And not just because it was the first.

31st December, New Year's Eve, Park Street, Kolkata. Crushing crowds, jolly, riotous, loud and happy, car horns and yells of "happy new year!" everywhere. I'm walking with one hand in my dad left hand, and my mother and brother are walking right in front of us. The footpath is crowded like Ashtami night, but there's a relatively orderly procession bi-direction foot traffic.

When we're next to Flury's, going towards Magnolia, suddenly I feel a bunch of hands, at least 6-7, clutching at, groping, pinching my butt all at the same time. It hurt, and was completely unexpected. I had never experienced and don't recall seeing any instance of street sexual harassment before this. It was a group of boys going in the opposite direction on the same footpath. I twist around, utterly shocked, to see some leering faces for a moment before they melt into the crowd, but that moment of shock when my body is turned is enough for the rest of the same group of boys to collectively grope my breasts. Several hands, again, tugging, squeezing and pinching cruelly for a brief moment that feels stretched in time. I turn forward again, even more shocked and scared, and have a fleeting impression of wide grins before they're gone forever.

This whole incident takes a few seconds, and is almost invisible in the noise and crowds and confusion. It was extremely well-planned and executed, with almost militaristic precision. My father, right next to me and still holding my hand, has no idea what's just happened. We are borne along in the opposite direction by the crowd. It takes a week or more before I can get the memory of those touches off my body. The anger I don't think has worn off yet.

Action Shero Anonymous

Place: Kolkata, India

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