Aditi was enthralled with the ‘Pujo’ preparations. Everyone seemed to be intoxicated with the fragrance of special incense being used for Mahalaya. Her parents were not home when Mukherji uncle visited her. As usual he made her sit in his lap. But, today it was little different. The movement of his hands was not like what she was used to. He was smiling and perhaps rubbing her thighs. Aditi was confused.
A few days back it was ‘Onam’. Shree, Aditi’s childhood friend sounded equally delighted getting ready for the mass dinner they organize on auspicious occasions. Since it was not far away and Nath uncle, a good friend of her father, offered her to ride his scooty. She grabbed the opportunity and chose to drive it. After all she still was a teenager. It was only after few minutes into the drive that she realized that Nath uncle was sitting ‘just too close’. After a while he offered to train her hands at the accelerator and put his hands on hers, while she could feel his heavy breaths on her neck.
Paramjeet was training for the upcoming State level athletics event. Javelin was her passion and her parents had to fight half of their relatives to send her in for this important training camp. Her Guru Ji, the trainer, didn’t leave any prospect unavailed to touch her at every possible place that he could do in the name of ‘training’.
Gulnaaz was preparing for Civil Services examinations. It was her late father’s dream to see her become an IAS officer. In her coaching class, near Char Meenar, boys used to fight for the seat next to her. That was quite natural keeping in view the adolescence they were undergoing. But it was her Shastri Sir’s left hand, that ended up landing on her shoulder, which made her uncomfortable and eventually forced her to leave her classes midway.
Indrayani had come to Delhi looking for a job. Her dusky beauty got her the very first job she applied for. Little did she know that she will have to face a new challenge everyday travelling in the famous Delhi Metro train. A few hands brushing against her fragile frame every now and then. A few more trying to cover as much area of her curves as they could before her destination came.
Hemlata had all the faith in her physiotherapist that he will help her recover from her ankle injury. She had to visit him daily for his ‘magical touch’ at his clinic. He had promised to prepare her before the trials for the next National Kabaddi Championship began. It was only after a few days that the magical touch began to extend from her calf muscles to her upper thigh, that she could fathom what treatment he actually was willing to provide her with.
Little did know little Prajnya that the ‘bhaiya’ standing behind her was intentionally in the practice of touching her from behind in that crowded city bus. It was only after one of the aunties gave him her piece of mind one after noon, while he was still standing too close to her despite there being sufficient space to maintain some gap, that he never boarded the same bus ever again.
Ritika was the ‘hot cake’ in her office. Her reporting boss was her father’s age and similar respect she used to offer him. It was only after an ‘achievers’ celebration’ that he revealed how hard he had to bargain to fetch her this ‘Young Achievers’ Award’. Her hand was already in his grip before she could understand what he expected in return of making her the ‘Young Achiever’.
Stella wanted to start her own ‘Rock band’. She made a Facebook group to team up with likeminded amateur musicians in Panjim. They all became friends gradually. During one of the weekend practice-cum-party sessions two of her ‘pro’ friends groped and kissed her sufficiently before she could come back to her senses and scream at them to scare them enough to run away from her.
Ambika had joined this reputed University to study sociology, specializing in ‘women’s studies’. She wasn’t aware of the norms of this progressive society where if you raise your voice before the high & mighty, you must be prepared to face ‘appropriate punishment’. In her case it was gang rape by half a dozen of her seniors. First, she could not recover from the shock that one of her hostel friends was instrumental in getting her punished. Secondly, she could not report it at the ‘appropriate forum’ for the fear of few other ‘active’ friends of hers could be the target of the next assault. God only knew what they could do next to gang rape, as they had simply ‘told’ her the next morning of the nightlong gang rape. They didn’t warn her, they simply told her.
Tenzin had come to Mumbai to look for a job as a model and actor. She had the features of a goddess as her friends used to tell her. It took time for her to know that it was not only her beauty that would land her any good assignments. She needed to ‘understand’ and ‘cooperate’ to survive in the ‘industry’.
These incidents can not be exhaustive. These are merely a few instances, mostly hypothetical, but inspired from some real life stories of many young girls and/or full-bodied women in various parts of our country.
Today, as Durga Puja or the Pujo or the Nav Ratri begins, there will be a lot of news coverage from every nook & corner of the nation, especially West Bengal. There will be pandals all over the country, depicting Maa Kali killing the demons and in other postures. People will throng to the pandals keeping aside all their important works. With folded hands, vermillion on their foreheads, chanting mantras and half closed eyes, they will seem to be praying. But not all. Not all will be praying with the same sense of devotion or purity of mind and deeds. Many will be there who will perform puja and other rituals with complete dedication while inside the temple or the pandals, but as they come out, hey will be the first to stare lecherously, pass lewd comments, touch inappropriately, brush against women’s bodies, particularly the private parts, willingly to ensure a touch of their private parts.
It is not just about Pujo or the Nav Ratris or any other festival. It is about our mindsets. It is about how we worship the Goddess inside the temples and disgrace the our own women right outside the same temples. Why is it so? Who is responsible? Me or you or all of us??
Hope it changes this Pujo, in some considerable measure if not full, as Maa Navdurga in her nine Avatars, bestows her choicest blessings upon us and some courage and audacity to the women out there.
#ShubhPujo
#BhaiyaSpeaks
