I never ask for it

It was 5 p.m. on March 8, 2008, in Calcutta, and I was standing amid a host of unknown faces in front of New Empire Cinemas. The crowd at New Market was growing by the minute.

It was my first Blank Noise intervention. It was a part of an all-India protest on the occasion of Women’s Day. Opinion poll posters, stamp pads, questionnaires were out. The posters and stickers said, “I NEVER ASK FOR IT.”

A few years back, when I was doing my graduation in Calcutta, in spite of my mother always insisting on dropping me in a car everywhere, I remember using public transport often. The very fact that I would be accompanied by fellow travelers, who I didn’t know, excited me.

I love walking. I love the rain. I am fairly invisible. Often I would enjoy wandering around the city with my camera and taking photographs. I did not necessarily walk in the company of my peers. Calcutta is a fair city. I am glad it did not change into an IT hub, thanks to the laid-back nature of its residents. There is so much space in Calcutta to breathe. You can go about taking as many photographs as you want without people disturbing you or showering you with advice on why you should change this into a profession and make money out of it.

It was one such Sunday morning back in 2005. I had asked mother to pack me some tuna sandwiches and boiled eggs as I left home with my camera to shoot a nearby lake that had been recently renovated.
The day, however, is deeply imprinted in my mind for an unpleasant reason. Done with my photography, as I was planning to leave for home, I was followed for seven kilometers by a stalker who wanted to “ask me out for coffee.” It was pretty early in the morning, and I did not have a lot of people for company. Even today, if I close my eyes, I can hear his footsteps following close behind.

That was the first time I felt the threat of being sexually harassed. I always knew “Eve teasing” was a crime. I however never really believed anyone could make a difference.  
Similar incidents have happened to me many times after that. I feel unsafe every time I am out of home, on the streets, alone.  Labeling this invasion of my privacy with such a mild term as “Eve-teasing” makes me angry. I had always wanted to do something about it.
It was 5:15 pm in the afternoon, and almost all the volunteers had arrived. We were looking for spots in the busy shopping street to put up the opinion poll posters. The blue and red ink stamp pads were to go with the posters. Each woman volunteer carried a bunch of letters, each neatly folded, bearing her testimonial to one incident of street sexual harassment she had faced. The stickers were pressed on their clothes: “I NEVER ASK FOR IT.” They were already drawing attention from curious bystanders and shoppers who wanted to know what was going on.

At present Blank Noise has members from various walks of life—including college students, performance artists, researchers and young professionals—who contribute to different aspects of the organization. There are representatives in a number of Indian cities, including Bangalore, Calcutta, Chennai, Delhi, Hyderabad and Mumbai. Interest in this project is growing, as several people from Patna, Indore, Lucknow, Chandigarh and even across the border from Lahore have offered to volunteer for different causes, as and when they are needed.

Passersby stopped to take a look at what was going on. A boyfriend, taking his girl out to a movie slowed down to see a testimonial. A family out on a Sunday evening stopped to talk to me. The reactions from the people were varied—from embarrassment to anger to amusement to shock. But every look was returned by a smile, friendly but firm.
A few of the passersby came forward to join the ongoing intervention. One by one, the participants walked up to the opinion poll posters, stopping to put their thumb impressions at the appropriate slots. They were followed by others, and some more. More curious questions; more reactions; more people joined in.

The clock struck 6:30 p.m. The intervention came to an end with participants blowing whistles to signal the closing. I had been to New Market endless times before, cautious to avoid the deliberate nudges and the ghastly stares. March 8 was, however, my day. As I stood there distributing pamphlets and testimonials, walking with so many like me, blowing the whistle, I felt liberated.

I held my head high that evening. I stared back at people who stared at me. Blank Noise taught me to “question the very question.”
Street sexual harassment is something that has always been there.  I always believed nothing could ever change it.  Changing people’s mind-set was the toughest part, I believed. But that day gave me a new reason to think again.