This country is not safe

Just read this article from Garima Shrivastava Nag on sweetsharing.com:

My ordeal in Rajdhani Express

3rd class people ( read some bullies ) in 2nd AC compartment of Rajdhani Express.  I was travelling in Rajdhani express from Mum to Del. Everything was ok until a group of men who had separate seats decided to change their’s with other so that they could travel together. A fat guy in spec was doing all the negotiations . He seemed fine at first .He was later joined by 3 more & that’s when the hell broke loose.

First of all they started with usual stare & giggle thing. I was accompanied by my hubby & kids. I felt a little uncomfortable but chose to ignore. Around dinner time, they occupied the upper berths & started playing music loud. Seems alright isn’t it . Well let me quote some of them here.

Fat guy , ” I am missing my wife yaar. Play that song. I always play it when I make love to her.

 Big guy with gold chains & watch , “Bhabhi ki yaad aa rahi hai ya Mumbai ki aayashi ki.’ All broke into scary laughter. Another one, ” Yaar is baar toh maza aaya. Sab kuch kiya matlab sab kuch.”

This conversation is going on oblivious of the fact that a lady , I was in the lower berth, & small kids are sitting there. ) They brought some empty thermos from the pantry & started drinking. Throwing ground nut shells down carelessly as if no one is sitting down. I was furious but what could I hv done. My daughter was asking some questions to me & they were making fun of that ( I was disgusted )I asked my hubby to contact the TC & change the seats ( although those were our allotted seats ) . He went to look for TC. Mean while , The big Fat guy signaled the rest that my hubby has gone & started blabbering , “ Yaar , ash kar train apni hai. Jo chahe kar sakte hai . Mast reh. Tu bol toh train wapas Mumbai le chalu.” All the while staring at me . At this point I was little frighted. I tucked my kids close to me & waited for my husband. When He came back , the same big guy told him in threatening tone, ” Kuch problem thi toh humaey bolo TC ke paas kyu gaye .” My hubby said , ” Family hai saath mai.“. TC came & told them to behave. Did they ? . Not at all. Instead they started making fun of our helplessness. We kept quite.

It was close to 10.15. I put my kids to sleep & lied down. Big guy mockingly asked his friend who was on the upper berth right across me . “ Bhai Sahi hai na jagah, View mast hai ki nahi , pointing in my direction.” I felt disgusted to say the least . Forget about the choicest of cuss words they were using.

Through their conversation I came to know they were all married with kids , businessmen from some pahadganj area in delhi. We were going for a vacation & this is how our journey started . I so wanted to publish a blog post about this incident but chose not to . I don’t want any bitter memory on my blog.These are shameless bullies who think they own the train when they buy some tickets . Had we objected on anything, the situation could easily have gone ugly. I was scared as a woman, as a wife & as a mother. Don’t we all know if anything happens no one comes to your rescue. We kept quite because we were , yes I admit, AFRAID !

Women are not safe in broad daylight , office , home , anywhere for that matter . Safety in trains ? Its still a long way to go.These filthy lots are fearless. They think “ jayada se jayada kya hoga.Arrest . Paisa dekar choot jayege.”. We are living in a dangerous world . Sorry to say but even Ac coaches are nt safe. This country is not safe. We live in constant fear.

There is no immediate solution to this problem. We can continue the blame game.Change the mind set . Don’t shout only when your house is on fire. Think about others . Be responsive & caring. We are not animals who should just be concerned about two square meals & a place to curl ourselves up at night. We are bloody humans with brains & senses. Why we don’t use them is a thought to ponder 

I request you to share this post as many times as you can on different networking sites . We need people to listen, care & take notice of what is happening around them.Thanks for your understanding .

Things wont change until & unless we change our mental setup on individual basis. There is a FB page called ” NO Harassment Zone” (https://www.facebook.com/noharassmentzone ) . I won’t ask you to like or join it .But DO have a look . My purpose of starting that page is to share such experiences & possibles ways to tackle the situations. I was shocked & baffled up when this incident happened with me. I am sure by sharing our experiences with people , we might spread some awareness or at least prepare women & girls to face such situation in a different way. Pls share your experiences on that page & suggest how do you think it can be checked & curbed. Thank you again for showing your support.

Question Bank

I am not very fond of children, especially the smaller ones who have learned to communicate using vocal and verbal skills into a few years and so apart from using their limbs, can bombard anyone with never ending series of questions which need immediate answering and which at times can be difficult to answer or may be even embarrassing when confronted with in presence of an audience.

Guys are always ahead in this respect then their fairer counterparts (although I’m not the person to give reference on this subject). I’m not being sexist—it’s a comment made from my personal experience. A male child of the species is much difficult to manage at this age and he can practically drive anyone crazy. Now when I see such brats harassing their poor parents, many times I feel for my poor mother and wonder what problems I must have created for her!

Well, after the long shift at work I was tired and coming out from Kabi Nazrul metro station. You don’t get to let you buttocks touch the metro bench if u take a ride on it from Central Station and move towards Garia (Kabi Nazrul station) at around 5 in the evening. By the time the train reaches Central, it is already filled and keeps getting people rushing in till it reaches Tolly after which its starts getting vacated but never ever is it as empty as to allow me a little space for my poor tired bottom.

As I walked up the lane leading to the main road, I rushed towards an auto sensing vacant seats. Along with me there appeared a woman of around 30 years and with her was her son of maybe 5 or 6 yrs. I saw the little guy and so to let them sit comfortably in the back, taking all the pain of sitting myself beside the plump auto driver on the front seat—rather it can be described as half hanging as most of the seat was occupied by his huge buttocks and there was another guy half hanging just like me on the other side of him.

I didn’t want to miss the precious half seat in the auto as I knew well that at this time of the day if I let it pass, the seat would soon be taken by some other guy ready to half hang and go and I may have to wait even longer to get another auto going that way.

Well all things ran in my mind together and the decision was taken in an instant like a spinal response not involving the use of higher center. I just got into the front seat hanging myself beside the bulging auto-driver. And then the little devil of the boy shouted to his mother, “see, he took the 1st seat. I want to sit there.” “All sacrifice for nothing”, I thought irritated as his mother hushed him saying “no no, you can’t sit there, it’s risky”, to which he asked, “Why?”

Mother (M): Because you are cannot sit there
Boy (B): But why?
M: You will fall my dear.
B: Why? (Referring to me) that uncle is sitting there.
M: Uncle is a big guy, so he can sit, but you are small. You will fall and get hurt.
B: But why do small boys fall from there?!!! And, I am not small…
…..
….
….

The questioning continued as the auto was travelled down towards Baruipur through the busy road.

B: (seeing a taxi) look Maa, a taxi. What is this color?
M: It’s yellow
B: Yellow… but why is it yellow???
M: (she is out of any logical answer) … because…because they make it yellow…
B: But why it is made yellow?
M: (tired) I don’t know…

(She tried to distract his attention and pointed to the number plate on the back of the taxi).. Look, can u read what is written there?
B: Where?
M: There? (Pointing to the number plate) Can u read it for me?
B: WB… (He started trying to decipher the code using his newly learned linguistic skill)

Hoping now that the child was sufficiently distracted from his previous queries on the taxi color, she went on helping him read the letters. The road was jammed with traffic and the vehicles moved slowly and so the taxi was always there standing in front of us displaying her numbers.

Soon the question-bug attacked him again and he asked, “Why is there a number on the taxi?”
M: It helps one to find his car when it is lost.
B: But how can it get lost? The driver always drives it, no?
M: mmmm….yes he does, but….but sometimes a bad person may drive it away. Then the number helps to find out the taxi.
B: How?
……..


So like that, with the shower of questions and slow traffic along the congested and clogged road through Rajpur, we finally were nearing Harinavi. Onto the right, the child pointed to a water body, rather a shallow pond and asked, “What is that?”. The mother replied, “It called Kochuripana.”

“Kochuripana”, repeated the boy and fixed his gaze on the green plants growing on the water. The water body was dirty and there was garbage piled on one of the sides. I caught him looking with his brows furrowed and thoughtful towards the growth through the mirror attached on the side of the auto. There was peace for around 2 to 3 minutes which was profound going by his questioning ability.

And then as the auto reached Harinavi, and I prepared to get down, he slowly gulped a swallow and said untrustingly, “Did Dida made me eat that today?”

By this time even the auto driver turned around surprised and looked into the eyes of his mother as I paid my fare and could not help but notice her as well. The child’s face had a disdainful look that bordered on with a nauseated feel as if the child may through up any moment.

By this time, the mother getting real embarrassed explained, “no no my foolish child. What should I do with you! It’s not Kochuripana that you had, but Kochuri. The two things are different baby. ….”

I could not resist a smile like the auto driver as he drove past the auto towards Baruipur with the mother now busy explaining the essential difference between a Kochuripana and a Kochuri.

Note: 

• Kochuripana(কচুরিপানা) means Water Hyacinth.
• Kochuri(কচুরি)is stuffed deep-fried flatbread made of wheat flour that is typical of Bengali cuisine. kochuri stuffed with mashed peas (koraishutir kochuri) is one notable variety.