Quiet people have many problems and I believe one of the major problems they face is having things locked up within them until the point of explosion. Maybe I’ve reached my point of explosion and maybe that’s the reason why I’m writing this because quiet people like me need some place where we could direct our frustration. And this foolscap is merely a piece of frustration, frustration trapped within me. What’s the cause of my frustration? In addition to my university life being really tough the cause of this frustration is men.
Yeah right creepy men that I face every day while I’m walking home. I use university bus and like every other university it picks and drop me to the stop. Now the problem of creepy men doesn’t arise here but it germinates the moment I rush off the bus towards my home. Sometimes these so called creepy men scare me like zombies and I wish I had never gotten off the bus and just got away with wherever it would take me.
I was advised by my homies to take an auto rickshaw from the stop but the gaze of the zombie driving me home pierced my soul. I wanted to get off that rickshaw, that very moment but his boring eyes chained me in the place I was sitting and his eyes kept molesting me through the rear proof mirror. It’s not like I never tried using the rickshaws again I did and every time I felt the same catastrophic vehicle is the place I’m butchered in.
After being butchered in various autos I planned on walking home no matter how long the distance would be. I knew walking to c block is like a grind mill but to gain the feeling of being safe I can do anything. I think the ambience of being safe is what we yearn for our entire lives. At first walking home was hard but soon I learned how to do it and I fell in love with walking home.
I know it sounds strange but I guess we quiet people grow used to places more than we grow used to humans. I was fond of the silence of the streets; I literally beheld the beauty of silence encaged within the streets. I would walk home talking to myself, talking to moon and the stars and no one would know. Those empty streets in the cold nights became my solace. Those streets were like asylum to me. After spending a hectic day at university I would walk on and felt like nothing could bother me. But like they say it’s inevitable that everything that’s good comes to an end and the day winter ended my solace was torn away from my fragile hands by these creepy zombies.
What terrifies me the most is that who gave anyone the right to invade my solace. Those streets belong to me too. Soon walking home became tough, it wasn’t because of the summer but because the streets were piled with the zombies. What creeps me the most about these zombies that their age doesn’t affect them at all. An old creepy zombie could pass you on the street and they pass by you and they justify their perverted eyes with a Mashallah.
Sometimes there are even creepy zombies who would justify their hatred for you walking on the streets with an “Astaghfirulla”. That word sometimes stings my body and it’s like a poisonous curse creeping over my body. And it felt like it won’t stop creeping until I die. Every day was kind of usual creepy men and their piercing gaze. Felt like I could escape it. I even thought of walking away giving up and arranging door to door transport service for myself. But those small vans seemed to suffocate me. My situation wouldn’t sound much dangerous but only I know what I endured. One can only know ones stance by walking in his/her shoes. Just imagine you planted a vineyard then someone came and broke the fence and ate all the fruits and while you tried to hush them away they stoned you for trespassing. That’s what I felt. It’s just an absurd proverb it doesn’t even portray the depth of my feelings but I’m still using it to depict the idea of what I felt.
I still walk home alone. I do it every day and every day I think while walking home why am I doing this? Why not just stop and just give up? Why take the pain every day?
I got the answer to this question when I was writing this that I’m not the one who gives up. I don’t flee from my problems I face them and beat them. I guess I learned it after writing this article and that very day I showed the creepy men who had the power they or me. When one of the creeps was staring pass my soul when I was walking home I stared back at home and I kept staring until he gave up. Men would always try to suppress woman, these men who in their language just stared at me don’t even know how much depressing their gaze can be. I don’t know If men know it or not but they trespass the boundaries of my liberty to walk on streets. And it only leaves me with this thought that my mere walk home freedom is unbearable by these zombies. Is it too much to ask?
I kind of felt proud and now I know that I have to keep going. I must not stop, because if I stop what if there is no girl left with the courage to walk home alone. Even if I’m the only one I must never give up because maybe I could inspire others. I’m no less than anyone, I capable of protecting myself. And I must protect myself. Now I’ve planned to buy myself a scooty and I know there would be challenges that’ll come along with riding scooty but I know one thing that I can and I will.