Being 12

My first vivid memory of sexual harassment occured when I was around 12 or 13 years old. Those were the days when E-ticket booking was not common, and one had to reserve the seats online, and the ticket would be delivered at your doorstep.

Since my both my parents have jobs, I had the task of collecting the ticket.

The doorbell rang at around 3 in the afternoon. This is how it should've happened. I open the door but not the grill, collect the ticket, read out the PNR number, sign the slip and close the door.

Except that is not how it happened.

I collected the ticket, took the list and asked for the place to be signed upon.

There was the locked grill between us and yet that did not bother him.He cupped my breast and squeezed it and at the same pointed out the place to be signed.

I quickly signed on the paper, returned the papers to him and shut the door behind me.

This happened twice.

To this day, I shudder to think what would've happened if the grill wasn't locked. Also, i'm writing this story anonymously, not because I prefer not to disclose my identity, but because when I think of this incident, its a little hard to digest the fact that I had been a victim of child abuse. That I just let him get away with it. That I knew what he was doing, but did not slap his hand away, because I was so terrified and shocked

Action Shero Shipra

Place: Bangalore

Being 12

I was a regular 12 year old girl who made movie plans with her friends. so i went to the mall with my dad to get the tickets. my dad said he would be waiting in the car for me. the mall happened to be really crowded that day. I was waiting for the elevator with like some 20+ strangers around me. there was a lot of pushing while getting in the elevator , and that's when I felt someone squeezing my butt. I was obviously shocked and numb . I turned around and saw a hefty uncle ...probably in his early 40's glaring at me with his red eyes. The elevator was so crowded and he stood right in front of me and didn't look away for even a second. that made me even more uncomfortable and I had no place to move. well in the next floor the crowd suddenly disappeared . And it was just him and me in the elevator...and luckily another man entered , which made me feel a little safe apart from the fact that this man shamelessly stood next to me and kept glaring at me. the minute i reached my floor i ran out and got my tickets and then i find him stand right behind me , still staring and creeping me out. I couldn't look at his face anymore and didn't have the guts to take the elevator so i rushed to the escalator and left the mall ,ran to my dad panting and scared. He asked me what happened but i couldn't utter a word . And now when ever i think of that day , i just wished i could shout out loud in that elevator , but again, i was just 12 !

Action Shero Anamika

Place: Navi Mumbai

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