84) Tale of a lonely girl

I had just completed my master’s degree in journalism from Asian College of Journalism and despite the best of job offers from the likes of ND TV, Times group and Hindu; I went back to my hometown Jaipur. I knew that I needed some experience on the street and what better place than to start in my hometown.

I freelanced as a stringer for Hindustan times and as part of the job, visit the jails and follow the court proceedings – every week produce a 500 word article for the paper. Visiting the prisons and rubbing shoulders with the cops and prisoners makes one believe how depraved our race is. I have seen woman take blame for the crimes of the husband and surrender to justice lest the black name blot the family. My heart used to go out for these women and so innocent and not used to the ways of hard living in imprisonment while their husbands remarried and forgetting the one rotting in jail.

I had problems of my own. Those days, I was really beautiful with my curly hairs, rosy cheeks and standing tall at 5’ 8”. I would wear jeans for these beats and did not really groom myself for attention. Those days – in fact even now – eve teasing was a real nightmare.

Rajasthan is typically a patriarchal society and boys learn, growing up to believe that they can do just about anything. That kind of filmi heroism of dating girls in swanky cars, flashing credit cards and hanging out in “cool” joints. What made the boys here especially vicious was if the girl did not acquiesce, “acid throwing” was more often a norm.

We were staying in a decent neigbourhood and since I grew up there, no one dare act funny with me. But during my rounds to the prisons and courts –where one would find more dregs of the society than anywhere else – I saw a group of men ogling me. Things started to get worse when they started calling me names in half frivolous manner. This went on for a month and I used to see the same gang waiting out the prison gate leaving me in no doubt that I was the purpose of their congregation and conversation. Even that did not worry me but when a fellow tripped me to a full fall on the streets, I lost my nerve.

From the next day, I carried chilli powder and salt as my weapon against an assault while the fellows delivered an ultimatum: meet us at Hotel Regency on the weekend at 5 pm or else expect an acid attack before Monday.

I sought the counsel of friends and everyone suggested that I flee the city. That looked too cowardly for I might as well be pursued in a new city and how long can I keep taking flight. Police in the city was a joke and these guys were related to the MLA and so no one dare take an action.

I was absolutely clear that this is a fight I cannot shy away and raked my brains as to how to come out of this tight knot. After this threat of acid attack, I started to look in the mirror more often wondering to the fate in store of that face.

I spoke to the HT editor’s office and cried my heart out to them. I can never forget the assistance rendered by Mr.Vinod Gupta, who was then the deputy editor of the paper. He spoke to the police commissioner about my travails and insisted that I be protected from these goons. How the grapevine works is a real mystery. Message slowly drifted in that I was a relative of the police commissioner and I dare not be touched.

The weekend passed carefully and when I went for my rounds to the court on Monday morning, the tormentors were no longer there. I had triumphed and no more the threat of acid attacks on my pretty face!!!!
This incident showed that I do have the gumption for a fight and not compromise on my values and what’s more, I can protect myself. The confidence this incident generated still runs its steam despite it happening over 17 years back. (708 words)