It was 3.15 am. We had just wrapped up for the day and it was time to hit the bed
Itu00a0was 3.15 am. We had just wrapped up for the day and it was time to hit the bed. However, both the tummy and the tongue needed something. Our dear colleague decided that a cup of coffee at his place was just what we needed at that hour. We gratefully accepted the invitation. But there was only one two-wheeler, and three of us. The men decided to be chivalrous and suggested that I be dropped first to the destination. Fighting the chilly breeze, I rode pillion and in 10 minutes I was standing before the locked gate of our host's apartment on MG Road.
My colleague asked me to wait there and 'be safe' while he would quickly go and get our other friend. He left, and suddenly I realised how lonely the dimly lit stretch looked. The wait began to seem like eternity. I heard a bike approaching. For some seconds, all kinds of weird thoughts raced through my mind. Finally, I was relieved to see it was a police bike. But what followed surprised me. There were two policemen on the bike. They slowed down, thenu00a0 stopped and gave me the dirtiest look possible. I cringed, thinking all kinds of dirty thoughts about my identity were probably running through their minds. They asked me in Kannada who I was. This was not the time to test my broken Kannada and I requested them to speak in Hindi or English. Soon I learnt they were more interested in knowing what I was doing there rather than my name and address. Their stares made me feel so uncomfortable that I decided to flash my press card.u00a0
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That did the trick. As if by magic, there voices sobered down. In fact I would not have been very amazed had one of them bowed low. I told them I was expecting friends, who would soon arrive. He gave me a sly smile and asked who these friends were, and I asked them to wait with me for some time so they could also meet them.
Something in my voice probably cautioned them. They advised me to be safe and moved on. Suddenly I realised these so-called protectors were just not bothered about my safety. They had just stopped by to harass me. So I politely said, 'You were so concerned about my welfare but now how come you are leaving me here.'
The policemen gave me a worldly-wise smile and said that area was perfectly safe because of their presence, wished me all safety and sped off.u00a0 Soon my colleagues came and I just pushed these thoughts away.
Sometimes, when I recollect the incident, certain questions continue to bother me. What would have happened if I did not have a press card? Why is an Indian girl scrutinised like this if she is spotted on the road at some odd hour? Are the police truly there to protect us?
I don't know what the answers are, but that day it made me feel ashamed to face a glare which seemed to say: 'You are standing here now! We know what kind of a girl you are? Please don't cite professional reasons, we know it is rubbish.'
At the same time it makes me feel like asking, 'When shall we grow up?'
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