Check out 16 Return-To-Work Programs In India For Ambitious Women Like You!
We had taken a road trip with some family friends when I was in the 8th grade. Their son touched me against my wish in the car, and I was unable to tell my parents because of the shame I felt.
Some discussion during a kitty party I attended recently left me with a tsunami of past incidents which I never wish to remember. One of the attendees, Sugandha, told us how her son’s auto driver touched him intentionally when she told that man to help getting her son sit properly on seat. Despite the shock she felt, she left the place waving bye to her son.
When she shared this, all of us supported her morally, and advised her to make him realise his lewdness either by scolding him or complaining of him in school. But this reminded me of something that happened during my schooldays. I still regret never having said anything about it at the time.
Being a woman, unfortunately, we go through many such incidents which leave us with embarrassment or a deep seated with anger, even if we cannot /don’t act upon it.
It happened when I was in my 8th std. A friend of my father, who was also a relative in some way, planned for a family vacation together. We were four: my parents and us two sisters, and they were with their two sons. As we knew each other since childhood, we were very comfortable talking and playing with the boys.
We set out at 9 in the night so as we could reach our destination early morning and have a full day there. We had dinner, and then settled down in our seats, chatting. As we were travelling by car, we kids were on the back seats so that we could comfortably sleep. My sister and I were on one seat and the two boys in front of us on another seat.
We fell asleep at some point. After some time, I woke up suddenly, feeling something touching my feet. Oblivious that it might be someone, I tried to search for something. I told my sister to shift a bit as I thought she might have touched me my foot by mistake.
After a few minutes (about 15-20 min) again the same thing happened. I just woke up and checked everyone nearby me. Surprisingly my sister and the smaller one from the other family were sleeping. I realised it might be the older one, and told him without showing my annoyance, “Why don’t you sleep? It’s very late now.”
He said smiling, “I will, after sometime.” I closed my eyes and laid down, and told my mother to pass on a small blanket to me.
I thought my interruption would have checked him and that he wouldn’t do that irritating stuff again, but I was wrong. He was constantly staring me and was adjusting his position so that his feet touched mine. I felt like screaming, “Somebody throw this boy out of car!” and “Daddy please take the car back home, I don’t want any trip, please please!”
But I didn’t. I was so concerned about his parents’ reaction and the friendship our families shared, that I was not able to even express my anger to that molester.
Yes! Molester. He was no more a family friend now. After this most annoying trip we moved back to our lives. Everyone was so happy and refreshed after the trip, but I hated it, filled up with anger and the regret about not speaking up.
Why wasn’t I able to share it with anyone? What if I would have told it to my mumma and daddy? Wouldn’t they have helped their child to come out of that trauma which she had suffered? The pain of it remained with me for a very long time, and I took a lot of time coming out of it.
Today when I remember those incidents which questioned my self-respect, I blame myself first then this society. If I am not ready to fight for myself then nobody else would.
I am a mother to a son now, and I teach him to respect women. But I wish I had had this lesson myself: stand up for yourself.
#MeToo
Image source: shutterstock
Now a days ..Vihaan's Mum...Wanderer at heart,extremely unstable in thoughts,readholic; which has cure only in blogs and books...my pen have words about parenting,women empowerment and wellness..love to delve read more...
Women's Web is an open platform that publishes a diversity of views, individual posts do not necessarily represent the platform's views and opinions at all times.
Stay updated with our Weekly Newsletter or Daily Summary - or both!
Neena was the sole caregiver of Amma and though one would think that Amma was dependent on her, Neena felt otherwise.
Neena inhaled the aroma that emanated from the pan and took a deep breath. The aroma of cumin interspersed with butter transported her back to the modest kitchen in her native village. She could picture her father standing in the kitchen wearing his white crisp kurta as he made delectable concoctions for his only daughter.
Neena grew up in a home where both her parents worked together in tandem to keep the house up and running. She had a blissful childhood in her modest two-room house. The house was small but every nook and cranny gave her memories of a lifetime. Neena’s young heart imagined that her life would follow the same cheerful course. But how wrong she was!
When she was sixteen, the catastrophic clutches of destiny snatched away her parents. They passed away in a road accident and Neena was devastated. Relatives thronged her now gloomy house and soon it was decided that she should be married off.
Being a writer, Nivedita Louis recognises the struggles of a first-time woman writer and helps many articulate their voice with development, content edits as a publisher.
“I usually write during night”, says author Nivedita Louis during our conversation. Chuckling she continues,” It’s easier then to focus solely on writing. Nivedita Louis is a writer, with varied interests and one of the founders of Her Stories, a feminist publishing house, based in Chennai.
In a candid conversation she shared her journey from small-town Tamil Nadu to becoming a history buff, an award-winning author and now a publisher.
Nivedita was born and raised in a small town in Tamil Nadu. It was for schooling that she first arrived in Chennai. Then known as Madras, she recalls being awed by the city. Her love-story with the city, its people and thus began which continues till date. She credits her perseverance and passion to make a difference to her days as a vocational student among the elite sections of Madras.
Please enter your email address