Not My Sister

Nimi Kurian

2 May 2008, 08:16

Vidya chose with care the clothes she was to wear to work today. She discarded the blue set as she thought it was a bit too clingy, the green with small print seemed to flashy, the red too bright…Everything seemed too obvious. She knew she had to dress with care today. It was an important assignment and she needed to get it right.

Finally, she decided to go for the casual look. She wore her jeans and a nice blouse – not too tight or too short. She decided to wear her Woodland shoes instead of her sandals and she tied her hair in a pony tail. She looked at herself in the mirror. Yes, she could pass off as a college student…maybe not an undergraduate but as a Ph.d student. With just a touch of make-up on her cheeks and around the eyes, she did look young enough.

She left behind her sleek, black handbag and instead put all her stuff into a rust-coloured jute bag.

It was eight when she reached the bus stop. She sighed with relief. “In time!” she thought to herself. The girls from the neighbourhood walked towards the bus stop. They looked at her. They had not seen her in the bus stop earlier and they were not interested in her. They had too much to talk about anyway.

In 15 minutes the bus stop filled up and some of the girls had to stand on the road. Vidya watched the girls closely.

Suddenly, a bike came roaring by. The two boys on the bike came close to the girls. They screamed and moved back. Some of the girls fell. The boys laughed and rushed off.
Vidya noted the number of the bike.

“What’s their problem?” asked one of the girls.

“Idiots!” said another.

“Do they come here often?” Vidya asked the girl standing next to her.

“Often? They are here everyday. If it’s not them then some other guys come. They know that this is the time we all wait for the bus so they come at this time. It’s great fun for them!” she replied with disgust.

Another girl piped up, “We have made so many complaints. We have even written to the Police Commissioner. But till now no one has bothered.”

“May be now that we have a woman commissioner something will be done!” said another girl, hopefully.

The bus came trundling up. It seemed to be full already. Since the bus went past three women’s colleges almost all the girls got into the bus. Vidya got in too. The girls stood facing the ladies seats. There was a space in the centre and then there were the general seats. The men were seated there. As soon as the girls got in, some of the boys seated in the last row got up and moved forward and stood in a line, behind the girls.

They began to pass their books from the top of the line to the bottom. Passing their books was fine, except that it was happening just above the heads of the girls. Then began the loud comments. Rude and bawdy. The girls cringed. Some pretended not to hear. Slowly, they began to lewdly describe the girls. As they saw the girls everyday, they had names for them — names in Tamil with sexual overtones. The girls blushed, looked away and tried to move. But there was no space.

The boys began to sing aloud keeping time by tapping on the roof of the bus. Vidya glanced at the conductor. He was seated in his seat, trying to look unconcerned. The driver, she noticed, was intent on the road.

Then suddenly, the boys saw Vidya.

“Hey look!” they shouted. “A new one!”

“Mmmm. Nice figure.”

They went on to shout out what they assumed were her vital statistics, gave her suggestions on what kind of clothes she should wear and how she should cut her hair. Vidya kept quiet. Then one of the boys, emboldened by her quietness moved forward. He touched her hair.

“Soft but…” He never did finish his sentence.

Vidya swung around and landed him a punch in his stomach. The other boys rallied around. But there was no stopping Vidya. In that limited space she had kicked and punched the boy into submission. His friends were too bewildered, they wanted to jump off the bus.

Vidya held out her police identity card and shouted to the driver, “Police! Drive on to the police station. Don’t stop.” She got the girls to stop the boys from jumping off the bus. The girls suddenly infused with courage barred the door. The driver drove up to the police station. With the help of the college girls, Vidya rounded up the boys and took them in.

As she walked in the constable stood up and saluted her. He informed his colleagues inside in a hoarse whisper that ‘Madam’ had come. Soon everyone was saluting, bowing and scraping. The boys were handed over to be ‘suitably treated’ by the constables.

The girls, now joined by the driver and the conductor, approached Vidya.

The driver could barely disguise his feeling of shock. “Madam, you are police!”

“When I saw you get into the bus, I would never have thought it. If I had known I would not have let you buy a ticket,” said the conductor.

Vidya smiled. “Is that all you are concerned about? Everyday these girls ride in your bus. Everyday the boys harass them, tease them, humiliate them and you do nothing. Don’t you have sisters? How would you feel if it was your sister who was being harassed?”

“But madam,” said the driver, “My sister will not be allowed to dress like this. I will not allow my sister to travel like this!”

“Dress like what? Travel like what?” asked Vidya indignantly. “Is it wrong to dress the way you want? Is it wrong to wear jeans? Is it wrong to want to go to college and study?”

“No madam…but…”

Comment

  1. Super Nimi!

    — sridhar · May 5, 17:57 · #

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