Delhi Rape – “NO” to Daily Rape

Over the last week, I have had the good fortune to travel from North to West to South and back, all by train. Two out of three segments by “ordinary” second class sleeper. Indian Railways have been and continue to be a tribute to one of the remaining binding forces in India that still go past regional and other divides that we see increasing across other sections of society.

They are also a true window to the way disparities of all sorts and levels exist across India. Unlike the single class Delhi Metro, though, the experience inside and view outside from the open windows of Second Class is totally different from what one does not observe through the air-con windows of higher classes.

Or interact with the rest of the country.

On one of the sections, over the scenic but largely single line Konkan Railway, our train comes to a gentle halt at one of the many small stations en route to cross another train expected from the other direction. Those of you who have been on this route will know that the line’s alignment is mostly through dense forests and mountains and some of the stations are just that – outposts away from human habitats.

So there we were, soaking in the sun and fresh air, when I noticed that the lone representative for our Railways on the other side of the track was a smart young lady in the KR uniform, standing tall and firm, with her red and green flags at the ready. Apart from her, inside the signal cabin slightly away and above the track, was another person on duty – yet another lady.

So I hopped across to chat. Men with white hair and beards inspire trust. And I asked her – can I wave the green flag when it is time to wave our train on, to which she said in a pleasantly stern way that if I was not back on board when the signal for our train changed from red to yellow or green, then there was a red flag she would have to wave.

And at the rest of the people, she indicated, mostly young men, who had also stepped out, and were now gaping at her.

So one of them, in a thick Punjabi accent, full of awe, but at the same time with a bit of that male superior kind of tone thrown in, asked her, and I could see that he was being a bit too polite – do you do only day shift duty, madam? And she replied – no, our roster is not gender driven. And then she smiled and threw one back at the admiration society she had gathered around her – don’t worry, if there is any problem on your trains at night, we will be there to save you.

At which point, I saw something which reminded me of how things used to be in North India – the young men all either took their caps off in honour, or saluted her. And then, over the next few minutes this young woman, she would have been mid-twenties, just took over.

The Delhi gangrape was top-of-mind, and she asked the guys collected a question – why were they travelling stag, why weren’t their sisters and other girls with them? Bring your womenfolk with you, in your own cities, when you travel, everywhere, and see how many of these crime against women issues get solved, was her point of view.

How does this work, I asked, and she said, look, who would have the guts to rape or molest or trouble me if they knew I had so many brothers all over the place?

Is Delhi the “rape capital” because we, the brothers, have somehow forgotten our roles? Whose fault is this daily rape, then?

As the signal changed, the first young guy, the cocky one with the day shift question, walked up to her and said – madam, next trip, I will come with my sister, and we will get off the train here somehow, and I will find you to show you that your wish is my command.

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The unsaid aspect here is this – was this just Abhijeet Mukherjee’s point of view, or was it shared by the other men in his family? You tell me?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pBSKgklOppI

DISCLAIMER : Views expressed above are the author's own.

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Author

Veeresh Malik, is a fauji brat brought up all over the country. He escaped in 1973 to work as a seafarer globally, then came ashore in 1982 to a variety of stints in India and abroad, some successful, many not. In the last decade as the India head of a small Silicon Valley tech company, he now wants to spend the rest of his life doing not much more than offering unasked for advice and opinions. He has been married (to the same person) for the last 34 years, has two children, one son-in-law and is still looking for the perfect hair-style. He lives in Delhi and does not intend to learn how to set an alarm clock. Also publishing online at Amazon with 9 books to his name.

Veeresh Malik, is a fauji brat brought up all over the country. He escaped in 1973 to work as a seafarer globally, then came ashore in 1982 to a vari. . .