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Yesterday I hated men. But today I feel much better. But I keep imaging violent scenarios where I have Buffy-like powers and kick the shit out of the mob. But in my brief intro to marrtial arts course, I learned that the best thing to do is to run.
New Years Eve, Sasha and I went to Leopold's in Colbata, a 50-50 mix of backpackers and locals and hung out with some hilarious and sweet Brits, one of whom (a 6'4 baby-faced dreadlocked 22-year old) kept going up to tables of Indians and saying: "India is fucking amazing. I love you!!"We got tipsy, danced to rock anthems and around 1:30 we piled out of the bar with our british friends, bubbling over with drunken good will.
Outside the bar looked like a street party. Except without any women. People shook our hands: Happy New Year!!! Yeah. Then my boob got grabbed. WTF? I was stunned. Then it happened again, but hard. ANd again. I started kicking and thrashing, and mostly missing, but I throw the lamest punches, anyway. I caught up with Duncs, one of brit guys who in his drunken state had only just caught on to what was happening. I saw Sasha emerge from the crowd with her arms crossed and a disbelieving look on her face. Then we heard Abby, the blonde Scottish girl screaming. Her boyfrend and I ran back. He got to her first. The were pulling up her skirt and she was completely surrounded. He pulled her out and we walked away in a group, with this fucking mob following us closely, shouting shit, and reaching for us.
They were like a pack of puppies who think biting is a game and that scolding means play time. It was that infuriating and frightening, animal-like refusal and inability to believe that this was not a game. They looked so happy. they were having fun.
I thumped one guy hard on the shoulder and said: "You fucking touch me, I kill you." in my most threatening action movie voice. WHere did I learn to speak like that?
We turned the corner and saw a posh hotel party going on. The guards were on one side of some parked cars and the mob on the other. The guards motioned us towards to mob and away from the hotel. "No fucking way. I said. You make them go away. You call the police now." We stood with the guards with the mob on the other side of parked cars.
"Let us in!" said Duncs. the guard shook his head. I gave the finger to the crowd. They roared with pleasure. the guard looked at me like I was insane and let us in. Everyone inside was in their posh clothes eating at an outdoor buffet and dancing to Summer of '69 (they love that song here). Then the police came, and the guards came back, telling us it was time to leave.We did not have tickets. Fucking India, man.
We told the police what had happened. One translated for the others (police here speak very little English compared to the rest of the population and they also have no clue where any street is). Catch this: The policemen were smiling. I think they thought it was funny.
I am not sure how it happened, but we all ended up in a car with these men who were somehow friends with the officers. I was on one of their laps, dying to go back to our hotel and pee and cry or whatever. But the guys in the car who were being all heroic and shit were creepy too. The british guys were in agony, repeating "What the fuck! That is the craziest thing I have ever seen! Are you girls OK? Omigod, I am sooo sorry, on behalf of all men." while the Indan guy whose lap I was sitting on said: "Where is your boyfriend?" and touched my bum.He even had the clueless gall to ask for a kiss on the lips for thanks and tell to us shop in his store the next day. I moved his hand away but said nothing because the British guys were looking for someone to fight and I did not want to incite it. Fucking men.
On the train to Hyderabad last night I could not sleep. (Maybe it was all the Chikki I bought after Pune) Which is really really rare for me. I kept imaginging clobbering the guys, breaking their noses, twisting their balls in knots. It was awful to have my mind go there so obsessively and violently. Around midnight I had a long cry and a cigarette and would have slept after that but for the crying baby in the berth below.
Today I am fine. Tired. Better. In Hyderabad. Surrounded by friends and kind people. Excited by the conference at Nizam U (The South Asian Social Forum which priomises to be an unruly, awesome affair with a truly ecclectic crowd. No stuffy hotels for this crowd).
The people I have told this story to(largely to Indian men) have said these things:
1. I am very embarassed. There are some bad men in this country.
2. Shit. I should have told you to stay indoors on New Years.
3. Indian men do not know how to drink
4. you know, this is a new thing in our country.
5. It was because they were uneducated.
I will be working for a women's rights group in India. this makes me very happy today. I do not feel more scared to be here, just a bit more enlightened about certain realities. I do think/know that there are some wonderful, enlightened Indian men.
This country has so many huge and complicated issues(duh).Today I think that working on the gender issue wouldlay the groundwork for solving the others.
Feel ever better after writing this.
Happier news later.
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1.2.2003
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