It was sometime in December reaching the end of 4 months in India when it all went down. I was walking back from the gym filled to the brim with that great high only exercise can bring. I felt sure of myself dodging the traffic and leaving behind confident footprints in the dusty road. I still had the last song I listened to on my Ipod stuck in my head giving me an upbeat Wisin y Yandel song to have as my soundtrack home. To say the least I wasn't preoccupied with anything going on around me and as far as I was concerned nothing could break the good mood I was in.
Then came the harbingers of doom: a group of 12-14 year olds riding two to a bike. They started up with the usual catcalls I'm more than familiar with. A chorus of: 'Hey Auntie!' 'Come to my room Auntie!' 'Come to my house!' Typical drive-by talk although this was the first time I had ever received it from someone younger than 16. Also the first time I had ever received it from someone on a bike, usually guys don't get this cocky until their ride has four wheels versus two. As TLC put it best: "A scrub is a guy that can't get no love from me, hanging out the passenger side of his best friend's ride trying to holler at me."
Here's where I finally began to apply all those childhood lessons my mom had struggled to beat into my brain many years ago. I was no stranger to teasing; my brother's favorite hobby was to see how worked up he could get me with the least amount of energy. And every time he succeeded in getting a rise out of me my mother would be there quick as a flash reminding me that if I ignored him he would leave me alone. So rather than unleash a few snappy retorts in Spanish I held my tongue and focused on enjoying my walk back to campus. I even felt proud of myself; here was a moment where I could have gotten upset and engaged in their petty actions and instead I kept my composure. I remained calm and aloof, ever the picture of effortless cool maturity.
Well so much for that. I should have realized it was pointless to use childhood lessons from America here in India, really I should have. Where as in the states if you ignore the person who is bothering you there is a high chance they will eventually leave you alone, in India if you do that they just work harder to get your attention.
The boys continued their shouting and doubled back to get in a few more comments but by this point I was starting to get annoyed so I tuned it out. As I turned the street corner I didn't see them on their bikes any longer and simply chalked it up to stupid boys being just that, stupid boys. Which was why I never saw the next part coming. Without any warning I feel an open palm slap me on the back of the head. This was no trifling tap, oh no this person had put some muscle behind it, not to mention the fact that the slap was propelled by the moving bike. They wanted it to hurt. Before I even had time to turn my head I see three boys on one bike, the one sitting at the end had his arm extended and was guffawing it up with the other two. The cool composed woman from before? Yeah she was gone. Enter pissed off Mexicana.
I didn't miss a beat after that, as soon as I saw that little bastard with his shit-eating grin (excuse the expletives) I started cussing them out in Spanish like my life depended on it. Two reasons behind the Spanish: 1) I was seeing red at this moment and was too angry to notice what language came out, and 2) I was nearby the campus and part of me realized it was better that no sweet, Lady Doak student heard me swear like a sailor.
It didn't matter if what I said was in English or Spanish, that little boy knew I was saying some nasty things and he started yelling at me in Tamil. So here we were, two people mindlessly shouting at each other across a busy intersection without a single clue as to what the other one was saying. It was all over in seconds though, as the boys were on a bike and thus made a quick getaway, which left me fuming on the side of the road ready to punch the next person who came up to me. What upset me more than anything was the cowardice in their actions; by them sneaking up on me and riding off on their bike they left me no opportunity to properly punish them for their bratty behavior. They got the drop on me and no amount of yelling on my part could change the fact they clearly got the last laugh.
My crime? I'm still figuring this part out but it seems that my ignoring them was more than just a subtle blow-off. It was a clear blow to their manhood that they couldn't get a reaction out of me and thus decided I should pay for my sins of daring to ignore someone of the male persuasion. To say the least my good mood from earlier had been completely and totally doused by these jerks and I'm still wary of young boys on bikes now when I go outside. Also all my childhood lessons? Yeah I've decided to throw those out the window because clearly ignoring does not work here. At ALL.
Now that these boys had initiated me into physical harassment it seemed that India felt I was fit to deal with similar situations. Enter New Year's. I have to preface this next tale of woe with the acknowledgement that my New Year's was amazing. I spent it at a small, gorgeous Kerala beach with the wonderful freedom of being able to once again show some skin. I escaped into a paradise of bikinis, cute guys, delicious cocktails, and wonderful clear blue water. Not to mention I spent New Year's having my faith in men restored by someone who showed me that not all guys are skulking Neanderthals. Plus I ended up on the local newspaper with some friends, so how can that not turn any vacation into a badass trip? No one could do anything to change the fact that my trip to Kovalam was the perfect medicine, which I'm thankful for because it's not as if people didn't try to undo the magic.
Yet again India was determined to have the last laugh. The night of our departure (I had been travelling with a friend Hallie whom I met in Madurai) we were making our way to the train station via bus along with some new friends we had made during our trip. We all had a similar mind of needing to get to the city and thus worked together to find the cheapest option that would get us there. Upon arriving at the bus stop it became apparent that we were not the only ones with that same desire; there was already a horde of people waiting to get on.
One of the guy's with us said to be prepared once the bus came, it was going to be a free-for-all towards one door and the bus would leave whether you were on it or not. When the bus pulled up the hill and towards the crowd I decided to latch on to him because clearly he knew what he was talking about and likewise I felt Hallie latch onto me. The bus stopped, the doors opened, and chaos ensued.
Now I'm no stranger to pushing my way onto a crowded vehicle, after all I DID live in Tokyo for a year. I know what's up. But this was on a whole other level; it was like trying to push toothpaste back into the tube through that small hole. It was just as messy and just as disgusting. Now this wouldn't have been so bad, like I said I know all about crammed train cars, except that as soon as I entered the fray I suddenly felt every single hand all over my body. Even though I still had my grip on the guy in front of me it took me a moment to realize that every other guy around me suddenly had his hands on my chest and ass squeezing as though he had never laid hands on a girl before.
I'm not talking about an open-handed brush past my body either, this was pinching and squeezing to the point that it hurt. But what could I do about it? I was so focused on getting onto the bus it took me a few seconds to realize that the people grabbing me was no longer Hallie whom I'd assumed (stupidly) had grabbed onto my chest out of fear for the other people crushing us. Besides there was so many people crushed up against all of us that it was hard to tell where you weren't being touched. Once again like the incident before there was nothing I could do about it. By the time I got on the bus there was no indication as to who had groped me, for all knew it could have been every single one of them. I've never felt that many hands on me at one time and I certainly wasn't going to make my way through the crowded bus demanding who copped a feel.
That pretty much rounded up my New Year's trip and signaled to me that paradise was over; I was heading back to my everyday life. But I found that after this vacation I did feel much more at home in the city and even began to gain confidence on the streets with my scooter. The trip really did bring about a new sense of freedom, as well as escape from any more boys on bikes who might try to slap me in the future.
To round it up I never thought I would be so flippant about getting groped but when you don't have any other choice save to get over it you find that's exactly what you do. Further proof of this is the fact that I just now remembered the groping that occurred New Year's night on the beach. Almost forgot about that one, but then again it's easy to do once it becomes so habitual. This was very similar to the bus except on the beach. As guys came up to our group of friends wishing Happy New Year's and shaking our hands I quickly got lost in the crowd. The moment that happened was the moment I felt hands pinching my chest and slapping my butt. Another way of saying Happy New Year's in India? I think not. My only option was to fight my way back towards our group of friends and find the champagne bottle once more.
Though after these particularly nasty experiences it has gotten better. I'm not sure if this is because Madurai is getting used to seeing me around or perhaps my use of the scooter has made it more difficult for guys to gawk. I'm sure the next time I travel I'll find more shopkeepers who follow me around or wink, either way I'm not letting my guard down again as that seems to be when they pounce.
