Stalked in Bombay

(image source: www.youtube.com)

8 pm. CST railway station, Bombay. I was standing in the queue to buy tickets to go home to thane. Around twenty people were before me. Rains appeared to have set on Bombay after what seemed an eternity, with people, in the last few days, only looking up at the sky for divine intervention from the heat and of course, in the hope for rain to fill the reservoirs; ultimately, the buckets and make their taps function at their homes.

As is the only job of every world citizen today (next only to breathing) I was peering into my mobile phone. Suddenly, I felt a push, a very mild push at my back. In India, a queue is firstly a luxury as you have people cramming any counter all over. Where you have semblances of queues, it would be a straight line of people who are almost at the toes of the person in front of them. So, I ignored it dismissively. Around ten seconds later, the same mild push. "Sorry.."

A third time, after a minute got me slightly annoyed and I turned around to have a look. A man, presumably in his thirties, dressed in a gaudy pink shirt and jeans, with a peculiar overpowering stench of perfume. "Sorry.."

Again? "Peeche se dhakka....." (some one's pushing from the back) he said, sheepishly.

I turned around to read on my mobile phone once again. The crowd in the front did not appear to move an inch. People buy their train passes in the same Queue and consequently, longer waits result. The other queues seemed longer, making even the thought of changing lanes not result oriented.

The next time, there was another push or a semblance of one. Now, I have had my pockets picked twice on Bombay local trains and buses and am hence very guarded when I reach a station. Once bitten, twice shy. Twice bitten, always shy.

So when someone gets close to me on a train, the first thought that occurs to me is that he is out to pick my pocket. So, with one hand holding the mobile and the other in the pocket housing my wallet, I turned around and asked him, "What do you want?"

"Sorry, " he muttered. "there is a crowd.." In English. A flash. I realized that he was speaking in English to me. "Why don't you stand a bit behind? You need not bump into me every time."

"Sorry "

After a few seconds, he continued, "Do you work? Where do you work?"

In India complete strangers become acquainted in minutes. It is a very Indian thing to give out varying bits of personal information sometimes even very private which would be considered as an intrusion into privacy in most other countries and leave them aghast.

I take time to open up and I have learnt to do a complete 'no-no' to strangers. I continued to pore onto my mobile phone. Then he continued, 'I work for Vodafone'. Once again, I pretended not to have heard him.

"Where are you going? "

Something in me replied, "Thane"

The crowd was inching ; 15 more to go. "My office is in Ballard estate".

"'I stay at Kanjur marg (an intermediate station on the central line) . Where are you working?"

"'I work for the government'

"'Where?"

" BKC"

Now, that's a semblance of a conversation. Significantly, this is where it went next. Thirty seconds or so later... 

"'Nice shirt"

 "Oh. Thank you."

 Why did that 'thank you' come out? Sub consciously? Ah, No one doesn't like praise. 

"'I have a similar shirt with me, but of a different color."

"Oh"

 Ten more to go in the queue. Time doesn't pass when you want it to, but rushes when you don't.

 Then it came. Out of nowhere.

 "What perfume do you use?"

 Startled, I turned around."What?"

 "You smell good"

 I had left home at 7:30 am, travelled to BKC in a bus for more than an hour, from BKC to Bandra station in an auto in the afternoon, from Bandra station to Churchgate station by train (standing in the midst of a crowd),  walked to Fort area to the advocate's office and then took a taxi to CST station. Close to 12 hours. And a deo still stays?

 He had a smile on his face.

"'I wear a 'boss'"

'Sorry?"

" I wear a boss perfume"'

"Oh"

"Can you smell it?"

 Well, that was a stunner. I did not reply. It took time for my pounding head to realize that this conversation was getting somewhere. It took a bit longer to realize that it was not to a place I liked.

"Is the perfume good?"

 I felt mildly offended and snapped back, with a smirk, "It's all over the place, isn't it?"

 I did not know if it hit him. But what he did next hit me.

 Four more people to go. A Mild drizzle outside. The intensity of the crowd was not dissipating any minute. The person at the counter was arguing with the person in the line. Everyone seemed to be renewing their rail pass or arguing with the ticket clerk.

 He put a hand over my shoulder. "Too much crowd"

 I took his hand off. I realized he was becoming very friendly. I also realized that my left hand was not guarding my purse pocket anymore and thrust my hand back into it. What I did not realize was that he wasn't after my purse.

 My turn came, I took the ticket and turned to the platforms. The next direct train to thane -  not going beyond thane, that is - was a good 20 plus minutes away. It is difficult to get out of trains going beyond, with a wallet and phone to protect and hence I always take a train that terminates at thane.

 I was waiting and there he came again, our friend in a pink shirt. "Waiting?'

No watching for elephants!  What else do you do at a platform at that time of the night? Sigh.

 I did not reply.

"'Are you taking the Kalyan train to Thane?"

 I got perturbed.

"Why do you bother?"

Before he could answer, I continued, "You have to go to Kanjur Marg isn't it? There are multiple trains. Go ahead".

" I want to speak with you"

"What? What is there to speak?"

"We can be friends."

"Excuse me? I barely know you. Please go away"

The continuing noise of train announcements, trains flitting in and out, the traffic on the road, vendors and not to mention the passengers - the decibel level was something.

 He came a bit close to me and put his hand on my shoulder.

"Why are you..... We can be friends. You look nice. You can come to my house.."

Ah, that's where it hit me. 'Look nice'? Well, beauty indeed lies in the eye of the beholder. Lo, and behold!

"Just go away." I grew slightly livid.

As I have stated multiple times earlier, my tolerance limits are too high and the 'anger' button is located so deep inside me that I now don't even know where it exists.

 I walked away and stood separately. He waited for some time, a few fleeting seconds, perhaps and started advancing towards me.

"We can be friends"

 Again?

With my head pounding,  I turned and gave him a hard look."Are you gay? I am not. Just leave."

Then a train approached the platform. It was indeed a Kalyan train, one that went beyond Thane. I jumped in. I did not get a seat, but stood deep inside. One eye was on the doorway. The next three minutes really did make me have my heart in my mouth. The train left. No sign of him. A relief. I had a hard time getting out at thane, but that was endurable when compared to being chased. 

I don't have a problem with people being gay and all that -  it is their orientation. But in a country where it is frowned upon and taboo, these are ways in which things happen. It becomes a niggle zone when you are approached.

This is not an isolated incident. In December 2002, on a local train to Kalyan, a middle aged man got too friendly with me touching my head, shoulders and all that. I had to tick him off and he chased me all the way to the end of the station. It was a nightmarish experience. He was also talking about 'being friends'. You get the drift? 

On another occasion, a man tried to thrust his 'you know what'  onto my butt on a western railway local train. I had to push him away.

And yes, a couple of times when I could feel being 'groped',  again on Bombay local trains. I don't know if I am a male sex symbol by any means, but yes, it has happened few times.

These incidents stay on your mind forever as they are very impactful. They have been isolated, but if they happen, they leave an undelible imprint.

With trains brimming with so much crowd practically at any time of the day thanks to a never ending floating population, where you cannot even see the person in front, back or the sides, having to protect your wallets, mobile phones and bags, Bombay local trains are ripe grounds for such mild orgies.

I just think of poor women folk who have to endure all the ogling, leching, inappropriate physical contact and propositioning by the great Indian male. On a regular basis. On buses, trains, stations, offices, shops, roads - you name it. Where not! Poor ones who are forced to work because of an ever widening income-expenditure gap. For survival. Mine was nothing, I believe. In their cases even safety is a big issue.  Salute the Indian working women folk!