A Tale of an Urban Nepali Woman

PC: gaderinge.com

It was a Sunday on a cold February evening. I was returning home on a public bus after meeting a friend. The busses which cater to my part of the city ( or lets be honest, ANY part of Kathmandu) in the evenings are quite crowded. I hadn't even gotten on the bus but had already started to hate the journey seeing the horde of people who were waiting along with me. When the bus came to sight, I ran towards the bus. But my fairly long legs fell short because I couldn't grab a seat and was left standing towards the back end.
If you haven't been on a public bus in Kathmandu in the evenings, there's something you should know: they are so crowded that you can barely breathe freely. So as I got on the bus, I had a moment of irrefutable regret. Because walking all the way home would have been easier than what I was going through (it was only 8km anyway! sigh).
Another thing you should know about public transport in Kathmandu: Most of the conductors on busses are douchebags who think busses are magical vessels which can carry infinite passengers at a time as long as they fit through the door.
So as more and more people got on the bus, my standing space shrinked so much so that I could barely manage to stand upright. There was a guy standing behind me, who was wearing a black leather jacket and blue jeans, struggling just as much as I was. He was courteous enough to put a hand across my back so that I could steady myself. After a while, I just let myself go and even without any spoken agreement between us, he supported my full weight. He got off the bus a few stations before my stop and as the bus was super packed, I couldn't even thank him....or see his face for that matter. I was so thankful to that stranger for his random act of kindness that day because especially in Nepal, it is admissibly rare to come across a guy on a public bus that is NOT a pervert.

In my 20 years of life in Kathmandu, I've actually never met a girl who frequents public busses, that hasn't been sexually harassed. Take this: 100% of urban Nepali women go through such mental turmoil day in and day out. I've known stories where girls have been groped by creepy men in broad daylight. I've heard about women that have been touched inappropriately by men twice, sometimes thrice their age. Perverted men who somehow make way to get their hands on a woman's breast like it's their birthright and a zillion other stories that I cannot recollect right now.

A common question in all these occurrences is why don't the women speak up? But the thing is they do speak. Sometimes with their panicked eyes, jumpy body languages and in some cases with actual words. But somehow, the blame is always on women and their choice of clothes or their "slutty" behavior. Honestly, being a woman, there is no winning. You might gently ask him not to do it or shout at the freak, but the blame will always be on the woman. "She is too forward being a girl" they'll say.

I have been fairly lucky as opposed to an average Nepali woman regarding such incidents. I have my own ride now which means I don't need to frequently travel on public busses. And I've only ever had men brush their fingers against my chest "lightly", had men try to feel my back with their scrawny little fingers and the common occurrence where men have mentally undressed me with their filthy eyes. Like I said, I've been quite lucky.

As I hear more and more stories from other women about what they've gone though, my mind always goes back to the stranger with black leather jacket, who helped me out that day. He not only helped me stand my ground that day but also restored my faith in mankind with his random act of kindness. And for that I'll be forever grateful.

Thank you stranger!

Comments

about love

When I was 10, love was Familiarity. Love was big eyes and sweet smile, coming over to give me his share of chocolates that he got for someone's birthday. Love was getting picked to play with him first. Love was random calls to my house that my mom picked up. Love was waiting for his silly emails over long summer breaks. Love was knowing I was his best friend. When I was 14, love was a Secret. Love was staring at his pretty eyes from far away. Love was the music in my ears whenever I heard him call my name. However, love was also sly. Love was accidentally brushing against his skin while walking beside him. Love was catching him looking at me and at once looking away. Love was the crescendo of heartbeats that came after. Love was... finding out it was love. When I was 17, love was All-knowing. Love was thinking pretty eyes wasn't love at all. Love was realizing I hadn't met love yet but knowing exactly what he looked like. Love will.... definitely be taller than me....

On moving 6629km alone away from home

It was a fresh start, one that I needed desperately. Applications and documentation had taken so much of my time and sucked so much of my energy, I don't think I quite comprehended what the move was going to entail. While I was open to changes, I don't think I was aware of how much transformation across all aspects of life it would take to acclimatise myself to my new reality. I was just happy for a fresh start. Nothing else mattered. But turns out, getting on the plane is the easiest step in all of this. The amount of transformation I've gone through and learning I've done in the past couple months is truly insane, to say the least. Recently, a friend back home asked me how I was doing living alone and I thought about it. Honestly, it hasn't been all good or all bad, but the important thing has been rooting and balancing myself despite it all. Not sure if anything I've written will be groundbreaking or something that hasn't been already said 7 million time...

Our story :)

Hey people! So, this story is here because of the special request from a few special people (Apee Regmi and Aayushma Khadka and so on..).I wrote this story some 2 years ago on Valentines day....so it revolves around the same thing. When people read this story they ALWAYS ask me if it happened for real and I say 'no'. It would be fun to have a guy like him with me but NO. This story is NOT... I'll say it one more time... It is NOT based on my experience so you can stop whatever you are planning on questioning me based on the story. Hope I'm clear about this. (sighs) So here goes the story: Young people are very excited as V-day turns up. Some are happy while others are anxious. on 2005 V-day, I also belonged to the anxious group because I was going to ask someone out on that very day, for the very first time in my life. I am Samaira. I normally didn’t believe in love but after meeting him the feeling isn’t peculiar anymore. Aryan made me believe in love, in...

(un)finished business

By Vincent van Gogh - Starry Night Over the Rhone You were a ship passing by my ship during a sunset. Ours was a chance encounter, so it was never about staying close forever Nor was it about helping each other traverse the tides together. We had both set sail to reach far away lands from different ends of the earth With our journeys laid out in front of us. But when we met amidst the vastness of the sea It was difficult not to believe that something about our closeness made sense. There was comfort and ease in existing together, A never before felt sense of synchronicity, That all was unfolding as it should. I was the first to say goodbye though, Not because I didn't want you, But because I wanted you too much and I knew we weren't on the same page. But why is it that even if I was the reason we sail separately today, I find myself thinking about you more frequently than I care to admit. Sometimes, memories of you feel like a fervent fev...

Forever, Always . . . Infinity

There are two kinds of hurt. One is immediate, earth-shattering You wail, scream Weep for the person beyond measure When the self-pity ends, You pick yourself up, Oneday. Other one is slow and steady Creeping up on you when you least expect it. And when it arrives, It leaves back nothing in it's wake. Enveloping you in darkness It neither has an end nor a beginning Only a constant rhythm of hurt flowing through your veins. I don't know which is worse.

Purple.

it all began one august day as the sky bled into hues of purple, a coy smile from me, some words spoken in the dark from you and with the silent heat of our barely there touches, the yearning turned to longing. and come september, the longing will turn to love. and all it will take is an epiphany, an unintelligible distant symphony, a moment of chance miracle and you will know, that answers were never outside but within. you’d expect it to be earth shattering but it is a mere revelation it’s a switch you flick in your own mind that surrenders your soul. no matter what other say, it was a choice then and it will continue to remain so.

Rust & stardust

There's not much to say about love beyond what has already been said But in the past, every time we fell apart I always used to find new ways To bleed on paper about you. Yet, this time has been different Because the words I spit out about you now don't make any sense Just like how we fell apart doesn't make any sense. Every time I sat down to write this, My thoughts always went back to that one time When you said I'd never be able to write anything without you in it, ever again. I laughed and rolled my eyes at you then But I knew you were right Even during the long stretches of radio silence between us, my words always seemed to find their way back to you. You were sometimes the hero in my stories Sometimes the villain And yet, you were there Car...

The Chasm

I remember how easy it used to be Closing my eyes shut And, at once, seeing their names On the back of my eyes Painted in bright hues of red Always so close to feel To dream To touch With 'I love you's Gushing out of my lips Faster than I could remember to breathe. Always, All I did was love, love and love again With never present people Setting myself to rot In the chasm they'd build Out of lies and disguise Naïvety or Delusion? I could never figure. Until one day, I realized I was the liar Falling in love with feelings Never people. Setting myself up for loss every time Because despair was a feeling too And I'd rather feel sad than empty; Misery than nothingness.

How it all started :)

As I start my very own blog from today.... I'd want to commence by stating how I started writing stuff ...have fun reading, even though, it's my very first piece of write-up here...And I'd love it if you comment on how it went. Thank you :) Writing is not something that I started doing from a very young age and yet I just love how it makes me feel every time I do it. As of now, It has spread inside of me as a poison because even if I try to fall out of this habit now, I just simply can't! It all started out some 5 years ago when my very first piece of writing was published in 'The Himalayan Times', in the 'Schoolpost' section, for the very first time. The encouragement and appreciation I got at that moment made me want to try my hand at this....and now I am what I am today all because of the feeling of being appreciated It was not that I started to write out-of-the-blue. Since a very young age, my father used to take me out to...

...I speak my mind =)