Describing the conservative and unsavoury mind-set of the society, somebody rightfully quoted that a girl’s character is judged by the length of the clothes she is wearing. At the age when figures in our exam scores should have been more important that than those signifying our ripening puberty, there were people who decided what type of clothes looked morally appropriate on us.
My mother replaced my single pieces and frocks with jeans and tops. My grandmother told me to sit like a girl and speak like a girl in contrast to the customary shouting that was the preferred way of communication in my family.
All the men could roam around bare-chested in a precipitating 42 degrees temperature. Whereas, women wouldn’t go out without concealing their feminine with an extra protection of a dupatta or a veil. Thankfully, in our parts of the city nobody wore a burqa in that metal-melting heat though, I rarely felt that offered any protection from the piercing gazes of lust and immorality.
It happened recently that I was flying from my hometown to the city where I work. An elderly couple approached to occupy the seats beside me in the plane. Since the lady had some medical issues in her knees they wanted me to sit in the window seat, so that she could sit in aisle seat and stretch her legs towards the aisle when needed. The older man sat next to me in the middle seat.
We had a small conversation, where he told that he was from Leh, his son was an IITian and he owned a famous restaurant in Kargil. He offered me his contact details and invited me to visit his hotel in case I was traveling to that part of the country and promised a discount. He asked me a lot of questions during the flight, which I didn’t find intruding because I lied most of the times.
I prefer not to disclose my identity while traveling. Our not-so-small conversation involved him asking me questions about my studies, my dad’s profession, and telling about his wife’s knee operation and some vague things. When we were about to reach our destination, he told me something that I regret hearing and not responding to.
We had a small conversation, where he told that he was from Leh, his son was an IITian and he owned a famous restaurant in Kargil. He offered me his contact details and invited me to visit his hotel in case I was traveling to that part of the country and promised a discount. He asked me a lot of questions during the flight, which I didn’t find intruding because I lied most of the times.
I prefer not to disclose my identity while traveling. Our not-so-small conversation involved him asking me questions about my studies, my dad’s profession, and telling about his wife’s knee operation and some vague things. When we were about to reach our destination, he told me something that I regret hearing and not responding to.
His words were, “I will tell you one thing. You should wear clothes with full sleeves. Till here.” And he pointed towards his wrist. I remember propping an immediate ‘why’ in response with a smile and an urge to question his beliefs more than his words.
The reply he gave was— “because, it is too sunny, and sun isn’t good for the skin. “. There was no doubt the plane had a roof, and no sunlight came from the window to burn my skin. To his statement he added that he was a father figure to me and that I should listen.
I was gobsmacked. That was sudden and struck me, initiating a mix of emotions and anger dominated all of them. Instead, I controlled myself, responded with an ‘hmmm’ and continued reading my book, though I could hardly concentrate.
My thoughts when back to my school days when wearing short skirts to schools was a habit wherein students had their fun, which teachers wanted them to shun. Morning assembles for praying to the almighty in unison was conducted with the purpose to filter out students who were uniform defaulters. Sometimes, a student with a raised collar, an unpolished shoe, a missing tie and even missing shorts below the skirt was looked upon with wrath.
In one such incident, I remember, my bilingual French teacher made an announcement for girls to stay back after the assembly. When the boys left the prayer arena, all the girls were asked to come closer and form a circle around Ms Jayshree.
In one such incident, I remember, my bilingual French teacher made an announcement for girls to stay back after the assembly. When the boys left the prayer arena, all the girls were asked to come closer and form a circle around Ms Jayshree.
We huddled towards the centre encircling our teacher, but maintaining some distance from the about-to-be-epicentre. When we were close enough so that no one from the surrounding floors dropping an ear over our conversation could catch even a word out of it, she finally spoke in a normal but stern tone.
“Those of you who are not wearing shorts under their skirts, please step forward.”
Since I knew this was going to happen considering my bad luck that I skipped the daily routine of the new addition to our uniform, I pretended I couldn’t hear her at first.
“Those of you who are not wearing shorts under their skirts, please step forward.”
Since I knew this was going to happen considering my bad luck that I skipped the daily routine of the new addition to our uniform, I pretended I couldn’t hear her at first.
“What is she saying?” I asked a friend standing beside me.
“She is asking if we are wearing shorts, if not we have to step forward. Thankfully, I am wearing it today. Else… ” my friend gave a known look that meant trouble straight ahead.
Else what? I thought, was she going to take us to the principal telling him that we is not wearing shorts underneath our skirts? Or will she call my mom and complain to her about it. Will mom still understand that it was too hot to wear so much clothing?
Ms Jayshree repeated her words, only this time she was a little loud.
Else what? I thought, was she going to take us to the principal telling him that we is not wearing shorts underneath our skirts? Or will she call my mom and complain to her about it. Will mom still understand that it was too hot to wear so much clothing?
Ms Jayshree repeated her words, only this time she was a little loud.
“Just step forward otherwise I would have to check myself who is wearing shorts and who is not.”
I didn’t know if she was actually going to do it. Images of Ms Jayshree lifting my skirt in front of everyone to check the white color of my shorts flashed before me. That can’t happen!
“Ma’am, I am not wearing shorts.” I stepped forward with a bag of honesty and an axe of dare to hit my own feet.
She got a step closer to me. But, I was sure the other girls would have thanked me for stepping forward and saving them from the wrath of the ‘Volcano God’ who would only stop unless someone’s life was offered as a reward.
She got a step closer to me. But, I was sure the other girls would have thanked me for stepping forward and saving them from the wrath of the ‘Volcano God’ who would only stop unless someone’s life was offered as a reward.
She stood a good one feet over me and stared at me before blowing away. “Why didn’t you wear shorts? Do you think your skirt should fly and boys should see what’s there underneath?”
She shouted right over my face, and believe me the closed group meeting we had was no longer a secret conversation, because the corridors reverberated with her voice. Her kohl smeared eyes moved left and right in its sockets staring me individually in each eye, as if I had done the crime of my life and had to be banished from the school. I could only mumble. The tears in my eyes approved her of my guilt, while I regretted coming forth and accepting my mistake in front of so many girls around me.
Remembering my past experience urged me to retaliate. The words that I prepared in response were—if my father doesn’t have a problem with cut sleeves who was he to question!
I noticed his wife covered head to toe, which again was driving me to ask him to apply his principals to himself and his family.
I was infuriated. However, I didn’t not respond, which was intuitive because he was an elderly person and I maintained a respectable distance between us. Secondly, I knew my response would disturb the peace of my journey and his ripened age and withering mind may have lost the ability to understand things. I chose to keep mum.
It seems holding on to the anger does more harm than good. Sometimes, I still think it should have flowed out of me there and then. I should have retaliated, but I didn’t. I should have questioned because it bothers me to think why I didn’t.
May be even Ms Jayshree would have reconsidered or felt apologetic had I approached her personally saying that the way she dealt with double-protecting our nether parts wasn’t appropriate. But, I doubt if she even had the maturity to understand that.
A girl in typical Indian family is grown up differently, where she is taught to speak less and soft, be diligent, benevolent and the kindest version of her race. This could be one of the reasons why women who are victimized never raise their voices or stand up for themselves. The roots seem to lie in the difference in the upbringing of boys and girls in our society. While it is alright for boys to shout or talk aloud, people shush girls for being too loud in their voice and approach. What kept me low and mum was my own self. May be the story wouldn’t have ended the same way for me or for any other unfortunate female to suffer their company in future, had I drawn the line.
As for Ms Jayshree, she was probably pacified when our school uniforms changed from skirts to pants during a malaria outbreak.
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Remembering my past experience urged me to retaliate. The words that I prepared in response were—if my father doesn’t have a problem with cut sleeves who was he to question!
I noticed his wife covered head to toe, which again was driving me to ask him to apply his principals to himself and his family.
I was infuriated. However, I didn’t not respond, which was intuitive because he was an elderly person and I maintained a respectable distance between us. Secondly, I knew my response would disturb the peace of my journey and his ripened age and withering mind may have lost the ability to understand things. I chose to keep mum.
It seems holding on to the anger does more harm than good. Sometimes, I still think it should have flowed out of me there and then. I should have retaliated, but I didn’t. I should have questioned because it bothers me to think why I didn’t.
May be even Ms Jayshree would have reconsidered or felt apologetic had I approached her personally saying that the way she dealt with double-protecting our nether parts wasn’t appropriate. But, I doubt if she even had the maturity to understand that.
A girl in typical Indian family is grown up differently, where she is taught to speak less and soft, be diligent, benevolent and the kindest version of her race. This could be one of the reasons why women who are victimized never raise their voices or stand up for themselves. The roots seem to lie in the difference in the upbringing of boys and girls in our society. While it is alright for boys to shout or talk aloud, people shush girls for being too loud in their voice and approach. What kept me low and mum was my own self. May be the story wouldn’t have ended the same way for me or for any other unfortunate female to suffer their company in future, had I drawn the line.
As for Ms Jayshree, she was probably pacified when our school uniforms changed from skirts to pants during a malaria outbreak.
Image Source
