The Day I Wore Shorts

(This story is a work of fiction. These events have never happened with me. I can however, with immense sadness, say that this happens with thousands of girls across the country, everyday)

I scan my wardrobe, and find the perfect outfit for the day. A white tee shirt and my favourite pair of shorts is just what I need to battle the Kolkata May heat.  I quickly get changed, and after promising my parents of staying safe, I am out of the house, to face the world. I am supposed to meet my friends at a mall, not far away from my house.

The moment I step out of my neighborhood, I notice people staring at me, mostly my legs. I ignore the various sorts of gaze, and take the auto. Just when I make myself comfortable there, I see the driver adjust the rear view mirror in such a way, that all he can see is me. Then, the man starts the auto, and instead of looking at the very congested road, he stares at me, as if he can see completely through my clothes. I feel very uncomfortable. His fixed gaze has almost compelled me to scold him. Then, the auto suddenly stops. A wave of panic surges through me, which is soon followed by relief. A man gets in the auto, and I realize that the driver had stopped the vehicle to let him enter. I breathe a sigh of relief. The three of us travel silently in the speeding auto. The driver has stopped staring at me, which has brought me relief, but he still steals periodic glances. Suddenly I feel a hand on my bare leg. "Excuse me?" I exclaim when I see my fellow passenger touching my leg. He removes his hand with, apparently no shame, and looks out of the window, as if nothing has happened. When will this ride end? I think to myself and feel the same hand on my leg, yet again. Now, I also notice the driver smirking, and his smirk is such that it can literally be translated to, "If not me, then him." I forcibly remove the hand and order the driver to stop the auto. "Stay away", I hiss at the man before leaving the ride.

I had covered half the distance in the auto, and now am walking the other half. The auto incidence has spoilt my mood, and I try my best to focus on the fun I will have with my friends. Lost in thoughts, I allow myself to smile a little. That is when I notice a bike right behind me. I ignore it and walk for some time, but quicken my pace when I realize that it has been trailing me for a long time now. I glance behind, and see two boys seated on it, their eyeballs scanning each part of my body. I start moving faster. Needless to say, the bikers gain speed. I am almost running. Suddenly I spot the familiar duo near the mall. I call out to my friends, both boys, and their wave to me is a sign for the bikers that the game is over. They move along, presumably to trouble other girls for fun, having no idea how traumatic it is for them.

I shake the thoughts of the earlier part of the day off, and focus on enjoying with my buddies. After we have watched a movie and had lunch, we are roaming around and clicking pictures, basically, hanging out. I pose for a solo picture of mine, and hear someone whistle and call out, "item".  I scan the area and see a group of boys, congratulating and patting the boy who whistled, as if he just delivered one of the best speeches in history. "Give me your number, babe!" he says and winks at me. I've had enough. I am just about to punch the jerk square on his face, when my friends do the honors. One of them has punched the Jerk and the other is shouting at him and his faithful group of followers. The Jerk punches my friend back, and World War Three is just about to start. That is when the security guard, luckily, intervenes. He warns both the teams and leaves with a stern look on his face. "This does not end here", the Jerk threatens us, and leaves with his gang, each of them giving us a you-are-dead look. "Forget him", I say, after reassuring my friends of being completely fine. We then decide to go home. As soon as we are about to part ways, I see an auto rickshaw, and the memories of the earlier part if the day, come flooding back to my head. It is dark now, much more risky, I think apprehensively. My friends sense my insecurity, and decide to drop me home. I don't protest.

We have reached my neighborhood, and are saying our goodbyes. I hug both of them, and head for my home, alone. I am in my apparently 'safe' neighborhood, now, and people are doing the things they do the best; stare, and talk. Could they ever stop? I actually see a person, who saw me hug my friends, mouth the word 'slut'. Anger surges through my veins and  the fact that I can do nothing to change the situation, breaks me down further. I walk straight home.

Will people ever stop staring? Is it fair enough for a sixteen year old girl to be called a 'slut', just because she has male friends? What exactly is the matter with the world? Our great India, specifically? Thoughts like these rush through my mind. As long as there our people in the country who try to justify rape and general misbehavior towards girls, and blame in on the clothes, these questions will remain unanswered. This act disgusts me more, and the amount of energy I have left now, permits me only to change, and sleep.

I am in my nightdress now. I open my wardrobe, and shove my shorts in the darkest part of the black hole of clothes, determined never to take it out again. Then I go to sleep, only to be greeted with thousands of stares, and thousands of shorts, in my dream.

Author's note: Please comment your views.

Also , please check out my novel, titled 'The New City'.

Thank You.