Hands Off! A True Story

I was inspired to write this post by something that happened to me the previous day. I was traveling to Pallavaram by train. There were no seats, so my companions and I were standing. I was clinging on to my big brother’s arm. The train lurched to a stop at one of the stations. I was horrified to feel a strange touch on my lower back. I instantly realized it was an unfamiliar man’s touch. I recoiled instinctively. Unfortunately, I’m naturally clumsy. I fell into my friend’s arms. She asked me what happened. I was too disgusted to even speak coherently.

This touch wasn’t accidental. The train was at a standstill and there was space behind me. He didn’t need to touch me to get off the train. Out of the corner of my eye, I could tell that he wasn’t a boy or even a young adult. He was a man older than my dad’s. That made the incident even more repulsive. I still have chills and shudders running up my body.

This has been normalized in today’s society. A woman being touched by a stranger has become normal and isn’t really taken seriously. In my opinion, it is a really serious issue. I couldn’t even reprimand the man out of shock at what happened. It disturbed me so much that I stayed encircled in my brother's arms on the way home. 

A woman should be able to travel safely. She shouldn’t have to keep looking over her shoulder for some creepy guy. (No offense to the gentlemen reading this.) As they say, “It’s not all men, but it’s always a man,” who a woman has to fear. 

I’m sure most of you would be asking me why I wasn’t in the ladies' compartment. I was with my brother. I should be able to travel with my brother without this stuff. Right? Other people might be questioning my wardrobe choices. For your information, I was decently and modestly dressed.

This has to stop. We, as the future of the country have to be better.