An eye for an eye

The newspapers had it mentioned all across. TV channels were overflowing with the story of innocent, brave Nirbhaya. “Has anything changed for us?” I grumbled, crumpling the newspaper into a ball. Mom was quick to catch the ball. “Why do you wait for things to happen?”.

“Hmmm”…I said and rushed for work.

Fully clad in a salwar kameez, with the dupatta right catering to the modesty factor, I rushed towards the metro. “Be draped in curtains, avoid passes…what the…. Does it help?” I was grumbling as I managed the dupatta against the sudden strong wind.

I was just in time to grab the last coach. Going for women’s coach would have meant late entry in office. I stuffed myself in the coach, overflowing with people. The doors closed and the stench of cheap aftershaves and sweaty underarms made for a heady cocktail. As my olfactory senses cursed me for missing the ladies coach, something touched my derriere. I gave a slight turn thinking it would be a crowd and was lost in my thoughts when I felt it again. I turned around and saw his face.

The hand went back to his hair. He pretended to look elsewhere. I was enraged when after few seconds, I caught him looking at me. Shameless smile covered his face, as if he was a lion and me the deer. Avoid, ignore, play safe - was what I had learnt all these years. “Did it ever help?” I wondered.

The doors of the metro opened. A thought flashed my mind, “Go out and board the women’s coach in the next metro.” 2 minutes and the door closed. The decision had been made, to take things under own stride.

The next moment, I was staring him eye to eye, waiting for his next pass, waiting to strike my blow on his sweaty face. The tigress stare worked. The doors opened and he was gone.

Eve teasers beware…this time there will be an eye for an eye.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.