The ‘Safe’ Zone
Yesterday was a cruel reminder for me w.r.t what it means to be a woman in this country, especially when you are dealing with (how ironic) the police.
When I got out of work yesterday at around 5.15pm, I discovered that my car had disappeared. After some harrowing moments spent to discover exactly what had happened to it, I discovered that it had been towed away from this apparently contentious parking space, of which none of the parking attendants had a clue about. After some running around, I found out that it had been taken to the ‘nearby’ police station. So there I was, sitting in a cycle rickshaw, making my way to this dingy, really shady police station in the back of beyond of Gurgaon.
There were 4 people holed up in this one room at the police station – 2 of them in uniform. It was my misfortune that I was alone. Thankfully, with some haggling and smart talking, I got my car released for Rs 400/-…
More thankfully, nothing happened… except for the fact that I got ‘checked out’ by the cops in the most creepy manner. I remember cringing inside as these men, one after the other, repeatedly checked me out. I remember making a mental check of the clothes that I was wearing and reaffirming that there was nothing revealing or ‘tempting’, so to speak, about them. But I don’t think I have ever felt more unsafe, more insecure and more vulnerable than from the time I entered the police station.
It’s crazy – the very institution that is supposed to keep you safe can cause you to feel like this. Or is this the price you pay for being a woman.
When I got out of work yesterday at around 5.15pm, I discovered that my car had disappeared. After some harrowing moments spent to discover exactly what had happened to it, I discovered that it had been towed away from this apparently contentious parking space, of which none of the parking attendants had a clue about. After some running around, I found out that it had been taken to the ‘nearby’ police station. So there I was, sitting in a cycle rickshaw, making my way to this dingy, really shady police station in the back of beyond of Gurgaon.
There were 4 people holed up in this one room at the police station – 2 of them in uniform. It was my misfortune that I was alone. Thankfully, with some haggling and smart talking, I got my car released for Rs 400/-…
More thankfully, nothing happened… except for the fact that I got ‘checked out’ by the cops in the most creepy manner. I remember cringing inside as these men, one after the other, repeatedly checked me out. I remember making a mental check of the clothes that I was wearing and reaffirming that there was nothing revealing or ‘tempting’, so to speak, about them. But I don’t think I have ever felt more unsafe, more insecure and more vulnerable than from the time I entered the police station.
It’s crazy – the very institution that is supposed to keep you safe can cause you to feel like this. Or is this the price you pay for being a woman.
posted by Wandering Soul at
10:40 AM
1 Comments:
Some years back, my car was also towed away. It was in South Ex and it was a freaky moment. Anyways, I did manage to figure out what had happened and managed to pay the fine, without haggling. The incident was actually hilarious 'coz I was with a mate, whose imagination for the worst made her face contort in a very clowny way. During the adventure, I was meant to put on a serious face and converse as if someone dear had passsed away...anyways sorry to hear about your affair at the Cops House.
Also, it has nothing to do with wearing revealing clothes, because there is no correlation between revealing and tempting. But, the fact that probably these in-house cops don't get out much, hence are starved of visual stimuli. I mean,
when you get pulled over by a traffic cop, he doesn't check you out, but rather gets to the point - That'll be Rs. 500, mam!
By
illusions, at November 02, 2006 3:29 PM
Post a Comment
<< Home