A couple of weeks ago, I was in an upmarket neighbourhood in Delhi for a photoshoot. Only a handful of walkers and joggers had dared to step out in the unforgiving heat. Women walking by offered quick looks, but the men stared – every single one who passed us.
Then one went a step further. Mid-shoot, he walked up and interrupted us. At first, we smiled – out of habit, out of conditioning – thinking that he would leave. But he didn’t. Instead, his questions grew increasingly intrusive. From “What are you doing?” to “Do you have an Insta page?” and “Where do you stay?”
By then, we were irritated but when we told him firmly that he was interrupting our work, we still said it with a smile, albeit a strained one.
Did he get the message? No! He hung around before finally, reluctantly, shuffling off. This incident got me thinking.
First, the photographer, a Belgian woman, and I, an Indian woman, remained unfailingly polite the whole time. But we should not have had to do so. What we really needed to do was hold our boundaries – clearly, calmly, without guilt. Not rude, just firm. But we have been taught that even basic assertiveness in women can be too much.
Furthermore, the institutional response to gender-based violence in India has mostly been to confine women to “safe” zones – pink carriages in the metro, pink autos, pink bus tickets, pink parks, pink toilets, separate queues. It is an approach that only reinforces the idea that the public sphere belongs to men.
In the process, women are not just isolated – they are exoticised; their presence is made exceptional, even unnatural, to the point of near erasure.
What is needed is to socialise boys and men to be more comfortable around women – as equals, not anomalies. Studies have shown that a majority of Indian boys grow up without meaningful interactions with girls or any kind of education that teaches respect, equality or consent. The idea that women belong at home, in the private sphere, is still deeply rooted.
More than 50% of women in Indian towns and cities do not leave home even once a day – and only 48% of women in urban India are even allowed to leave home alone. With so few women occupying public spaces, our presence continues to feel unfamiliar – something to be stared at, questioned or interrupted.
Every time I am in a public space in India, I find myself unconsciously calculating – my safety, risk, attention, tone – even when I don’t need to. And that man’s behaviour? Just another periodic reminder of why we move through public spaces with caution, not comfort.
Nilanjana Bhowmick is a writer based in Delhi, India. She is the founder of Wednesdayonline.in, a platform dedicated to empowering women through honest, informed storytelling. Photograph: Kalpak Pathak/Hindustan Times/Getty. Read the full article here
