Forced Interactions

Yesterday, I was in the market close to home, picking up some fruit and other odds and ends. My mum came with as well, as we’d decided to make a day of it. Now, I don’t usually leave her side, because she is somewhat wobbly on her feet. But as we were crossing the road, and standing on the road divider, we happened to be a few metres apart.

And that is the only reason I don’t have a murder scene to clean up today. Because my mum didn’t see this entire interaction unfold.

I stepped into the road, intending to cross as a car made a u-turn. However, I quickly jumped back because a bike rider swerved in the space between the car and the divider, and proceeded to speed ahead. I was directly in his path, and I would have rapidly become roadkill if I hadn’t moved when I did.

First of all, I was annoyed that he was being so ridiculous and rude. And then, as he drove past, he leaned over to me, and sang into my face.

I’m the first to admit that I have no clue about human psychology, apart from what little I read or see firsthand. But this? This was aggressive. Unnecessarily so, in my opinion, because apart from a hurried backward skip and maybe a frown, I didn’t react to his swerving in any way.

At first, I thought it was merely cheek. Then I recounted the story to a few people, and quite a few of them seemed to think it was because of my appearance. Great. Because THAT brings back WONDERFUL memories. :-\

[Post from old blog. Many of my views have changed in the interim, and I was too embarrassed to write the whole story out even then. But the incident remains disturbing nonetheless.]

Disturbia

My opinion of guys in India is no secret, in fact, I have a sneaky suspicion Akshay is slightly resentful of that opinion. Hardly surprising – he falls into the category – but he isn’t creepy. Creepiness is my number one complaint for the great unwashed (men) of India. And this time, I have an incident to prove it.

I have to open a DEMAT account, so I decided to trot along to the nearest branch of ICICI and open one. The person in charge wasn’t available, so my number was duly noted and I was told that a representative would get in touch with me. So far, excellent. I got a call later that afternoon (wow!) and the rep explained that he could come over and I wouldn’t have to go to the bank to fill out the forms. Great. I asked him to come the next day, and I needed to collect the necessary documents for the application.

The next day, he showed up. I handed over the documents, signed half a million times and was told this part of the process was over. For extra points, credibility-wise, they wanted a copy of my passport. I had the identification page photocopied, but not the address page. So the guy said I could hand it over to the rep who came to verify my address. Fair enough, I thought, although I was slightly annoyed that he didn’t tell me this before.

The next day, the guy calls up again, saying he needs that photocopy. I still hadn’t got the copy, so I asked him to give me an hour before coming (I also happened to be out at that time).

He came, right inside (which was odd since he had to merely collect one paper), and proceeded to make a big deal about the whole thing. After he ran out of excuses to linger, he finally got to his real point.

He turned to me, and said (in Hindi) that I was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Also, yesterday when he saw me, apparently I blew his mind. I kept him awake all night with thoughts of me, and he is in love with me.

[blank stare]

All this sounds awful in English, but it’s typical movie dialogue in Hindi.

I was petrified.

I’ve had some horrendous experiences with perverts and touchy-feely guys, and this exchange made my blood run stone cold. I gathered my wits long enough to ask him very politely to leave, and that I was very uncomfortable with this situation.

I was terrified till I closed the door, on his parting words of ‘I love you’.

Some notes:

– The Akshay in the story is my ex. Not the most recent one, but one relationship I certainly regret with every fibre.
– I no longer think that Indian guys are creepy. I just have lost faith in humanity overall. I am exaggerating of course, but these sort of happenings don’t help.
– I was living alone at the time. There was no one else in the house except for me. My parents were in another city, and the boyfriend was too. My best friend had moved to another city recently, and I had just chucked up a job. If something were to have happened to me, exactly no one was going to know for at least 10 hours. My mother and I spoke every day, but that was in the evening. No one knew that this guy was coming over today, because I had told them that the process was over the previous day.
– A lot of people asked me why I didn’t complain about this guy to the bank. Mainly, it was because he didn’t threaten me. My fear was based on my poor experiences previously. Also, I was terrified that since he knew where I lived, I would face repercussions. And, he was handicapped. Must have been hard enough for him to get this job, with a stammer and double thumbs on both hands. No idea if I did the right thing, but that was my thought process at the time.

C’est la vie, eh?

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