 "Gangrape, Juvenile, Nirbhaya, Delhi")
My flight from Mumbai was delayed by two-and-a-half hours. While I was supposed to have landed at New Delhi’s Indira Gandhi International (IGI) airport at 9:30 pm, it wasn’t until midnight that I actually did. Obviously, panic set in.
When I am alone in Delhi, I do not travel by cabs after 11 pm as a rule. But I had run out of options; my husband, a pilot, was on an all-night flight and it was too late to ask a friend to receive me from the airport. So, I took out my phone, with 20 per cent battery, and reluctantly booked a premium service of cab aggregator, instead of the relatively inexpensive option, even as fares at midnight were excessively high. I was told the premium service drivers were generally safer.
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I also switched on GPS on my phone and put it on charge in the driver’s car. Just five minutes from the airport, the driver took a wrong turn; the sign board said Gurgaon this way, my map suddenly started rerouting me. And there it was again. Paranoia! I quickly began searching for the panic button in the car. It had not been installed. Decided to press the SOS button on my cab aggregator's app but I knew it would take at least ten minutes for someone to respond. I immediately called my friend, who then thrashed the driver on phone, and stayed on the line till I reached home. My cabbie kept insisting it was a genuine mistake. Even if it was, I did not trust him and made a mental note that I would never again take night flights to Delhi when travelling all by myself – another checklist on my 'how to stay safe in Delhi' guidebook.
It's been a little over a year since I moved to the dreaded capital, a decision I had deferred time and again because Delhi had become synonymous with words like rape and unsafe. Even though I have altered my lifestyle considerably since, the city sure has made me undermine my independence.
I no longer walk the streets after 8 pm, or go to clubs or pubs in the company of less than two people. General-class travel by the Metro is a strict no and whenever I spot too many men ogling on the streets, I keep both my hands open in front of my chest to avoid getting groped. I do not hesitate in calling men out if they misbehave. I am constantly aware of my surroundings, and end up running the other side if I find the street deserted. I take comfort in the fact that my neighbourhood is gated and there is a trusted dhobi around the corner till 10 pm. I find solace in streets with vendors and chaiwala after 6 pm. Night walks have been replaced by high-intensity workouts at home and early-morning runs require a workout buddy. If travelling at night by a cab by myself, I usually call a friend and stay on the phone for the entire duration of the ride. No late-night returns by myself is another self-imposed restriction. A pepper spray and a Swiss knife are a must-buy from Amazon.
The survival guide is endless, but the point is, four years after the horrific Nirbhaya rape, women shouldn’t have to be handing down tips and warnings. Delhi by now should have moved on from being the Gotham capital. However, data show the situation is not any better. Do I feel safer today? Do I trust the cop on the road at night? Can I take a cab after 11 pm by myself? The answer is a resounding no. Even crime data show that rape continues to top the city’s heinous crime figures, with at least one case registered every four hours.
Several reforms were put in place in 2012. Even six fast-track courts were set up. Girls were trained in self-defence. The Delhi government had sought the Nirbhaya Fund for installation of CCTV cameras in DTC buses, but this file has been pending with the Centre till date. Of the 31,446 FIRs registered in crimes against women from 2012 to 2014, convictions were achieved only in 146 cases. Delhi police along with experts trained over 200,000 schoolchildren in self-defence techniques, and sensitised them about “good touch” and “bad touch”. Yet, Delhi is fighting a losing battle against rape and women are forced to bank on their wit, alertness and, of course, luck. Being alert and aggressive is the only line of defence that has worked for me so far.
Prior to moving to Delhi, I did my research. I declined job offers in Noida and Gurgaon repeatedly because the highways are known to be notorious. I did not opt for Vasant Kunj, either, because the area is secluded at night and office transport was available only after 11. That basically left me with some parts of South Delhi.
I figured I could work my way around it. After all there were mandatory “panic buttons” on phones, GPS-enabled trackers, apps that alert family members if I am in distress, countless CCTV cameras I am told. But did the promise of technology in a city where patriarchal beliefs go unchallenged and are consistently endorsed, also through our leaders, guarantee me my independence and safety? Again, the answer is obvious. Even economist Amartya Sen has repeatedly said rape and other serious crimes against women are closely intertwined with inefficient policing and judicial systems, and callousness of society.
Gender inequality and the systemic discrimination that women face in a patriarchal system limit our movement to such an extent that we just don’t have the ‘licence’ to hang around in public spaces. That’s purely a male privilege. What’s worse is that movement is restricted both in terms of time and space; we have to dress in a certain way to feel ‘comfortable’ in public.
Add to that the problem of infrastructure. Most residential colonies in Delhi are poorly lit. Even main roads, inner streets, sections of markets, areas between residential blocks and bus stops pose a threat. In fact, in a survey carried out by Jagori among 500 women in the city, over 95 per cent reported carrying things like pepper sprays and sharp objects for protection. But such individualistic solutions like pepper-spray and self-defence are not an answer to our plight. At best, this is jugaad, a make-do arrangement to protect ourselves.
Women cannot be told to find their own solution, especially when the problem lies outside. The solutions have to come from a community, where the vulnerable voices are heard and given value, or else women like me will be left to fend for themselves because, as of now, Delhi just doesn’t give a damn, and aggression is the only language it responds to.
