To Delhi--part4

His was a “UK-bound” call centre which was involved in selling Orange network to “UK Clients.” The firm trained them to speak in British accent, and then how to pitch in that fed accent. Sometimes they would be tolerated by people who took some interest in their imitated accent, some would be scared thinking that their safe and civilized world had now been intruded by some aliens from the other world, many would just sign up, and a lot of them would ask their personal data to be erased from the database.  One had to be “ on the floor” the whole night and one could get a short break to have a cup of coffee which would be announced by the shift supervisor with a whistle as though they were in some prison. Right after one call another would pop up on screen and the person had to click the button and carry on with the same pitch which they had been implanted with. When the clock ticked four the supervisor would whistle and everyone would scramble out for the parking lot from where they all would be driven home in Indica car.

There were few things that I noticed in him; he was now a chain smoker and his face bore the sign of mental exhaustion. In university days he had a grand ambition and he considered himself an independent thinker, he was quite bookish and some of his ideas were quite interesting. Life now for him had changed, he had a family back home which he had to support and for that he was ready to do anything, so the idea of being a writer and its long journey now appeared to him abstract. Now virtually broken up and yet courting a suddenly resurrected spirit which was brought to him with my arrival, the prime of a young man’s life.

Later in the afternoon he went about the place which I had marked in the city map. The roofed-over path was not the one which we would have to take to get out, it was three-foot wide between two old buildings. The buildings had been built after the partition to accommodate the post independence refugees and they hadn’t been repaired with great care since then. Through the three-foot path we came out on a clean road and on the edge a long line of German, Japanese, American and few Indian cars parked. The building on the other side of the road were modern and their fronts decorated with potted plants and most of them flowers, and in front of each house there was a lean man with a water pipe in his hand moving from one side to another to water the plants and more were seen near the cars with pieces of clothes to wipe the machines clean.  

There were neither vegetable hawkers nor any stray dogs; there were only big imported breeds. But this world came to an end after few metres and now what we were faced with were the same labyrinthine-like atmosphere, this time it was on a wider road with small and large vehicles honking incessantly as if they all were attempting to drive each other off the road.    

The walk to one of the metro stations was quite an adventure, and the experience in the tunnel was disturbing with stern security personnel behind sandbags, their rifles placed atop the stacked up bags, while on the other side there were more of them frisking and examining each and every bag passing through scanner machines. What followed after having frisked and scanned was the exploding crowd.

The platform was new, but it bore no sign of being well-maintained; the new coloured lines marking the standing areas were discoloured and what stood out were the steel barricades marking the areas for ladies.  Each train had separate compartments to avoid ladies from being abused. In this city a lady could be raped or sexually harassed in broad daylight, a lady walking past a car with tinted glasses could be dragged in and the beasts could translate their fantasies in this tinted compartment in the middle of a melee. One lady, a friend of my friend, said , “ They should be stripped naked and then crucified and be carried about the city so that each individual can identify the bastard is indeed an animal. When all is all done he should be castrated and then chopped into pieces in public view, then they would understand the consequences.”

The bitterness was disturbing but in that I could see the anger as well as the frustration towards how women had been viewed, like some "sex-machines” and if the lady happened to be someone with mongoloid features then many of them viewed her as some “shag-able mannequin.” And many a times there were complaints that police wouldn’t take any complaints and sometimes they would instead put the blame on the victims saying “you come here and wear what you shouldn’t be wearing exposing yourself. You have aroused them so next time you should be very mindful of whatever you are wear. This is not your  place, this is Dilli.”

If someone did the same to your sisters or to someone from your family then you would feel what a sexually abused victim goes through. Another lady explained, “ See, most of them are brought in two different cages, one cage where they are put only with males when they are 12, and in another only ladies where they are groomed to be perfect housewives with a bit of education. So,these men grow up thinking about a male-dominant society where people like him are to go out and rule and this they see every day in their families; fathers slouching in couches and ordering about mothers who would only take the orders and try to carry them out. The notion of explaining the values of being a housewife would never cross their minds. To them a woman’s sole objective is to make her husband (giver) satisfied. The children are told at the early stage that they are to take whatever they are offered by their parents. A grown up man wouldn’t have to groom himself in order to make himself attractive to people or ladies because the parents are going to fetch for him. But such a man whose marital as well as other futuristic life are to be determined by his parents sometimes would feel strange and would act in a queer manner when faced with emotional or biological growths. He wouldn’t be able to deal with it and no one would encourage him to talk about this kind of internal problem. No Delhi man is different from any man elsewhere but it’s what living in one place with the understanding that he has to be responsible and if he didn’t oblige himself there would be consequences. When someone like him went out with other ladies it would be only for pleasure because when he returns his head is still under the old man’s foot. This suppression and lack of openness make them a beast when they see some weak people in some isolated place where they can take advantage but for this a person wouldn’t do alone ,his dudes would be around and the dudes wouldn’t object since they also come from the same backgrounds. If you took them to some western countries where ladies can comfortably wear scanty clothes and walk about without feeling insecure they would rape all of them the moment they saw the ladies.”

She was full of fury and it drove her to speak more suppressing the desire to put some queries to her. Only when I cracked few jokes her expression changed and she appeared normal. I just couldn’t believe what few people had been telling me about many men in this city although I had been reading a lot about crime against women in this city when I was in another country. 

to be continued.............