India: the Story You Never Wanted to Hear

[Fieldmarshal]

India: the Story You Never Wanted to Hear

By RoseChasm | Posted August 18, 2013 | Chicago

India: the Story You Never Wanted to Hear - CNN iReport

When people ask me about my experience studying abroad in India, I always face the same dilemma. How does one convey the contradiction that over the past few months has torn my life apart, and convey it in a single succinct sentence?

“India was wonderful," I go with, "but extremely dangerous for women.” Part of me dreads the follow-up questions, and part of me hopes for more. I'm torn between believing in the efficacy of truth, and being wary of how much truth people want.

Because, how do I describe my three months in the University of Chicago Indian civilizations program when it was half dream, half nightmare? Which half do I give?

Do I tell them about our first night in the city of Pune, when we danced in the Ganesha festival, and leave it at that? Or do I go on and tell them how the festival actually stopped when the American women started dancing, so that we looked around to see a circle of men filming our every move?

Do I tell them about bargaining at the bazaar for beautiful saris costing a few dollars a piece, and not mention the men who stood watching us, who would push by us, clawing at our breasts and groins?

When people compliment me on my Indian sandals, do I talk about the man who stalked me for forty-five minutes after I purchased them, until I yelled in his face in a busy crowd?

Do I describe the lovely hotel in Goa when my strongest memory of it was lying hunched in a fetal position, holding a pair of scissors with the door bolted shut, while the staff member of the hotel who had tried to rape my roommate called me over and over, and breathing into the phone?

How, I ask, was I supposed to tell these stories at a Christmas party? But how could I talk about anything else when the image of the smiling man who masturbated at me on a bus was more real to me than my friends, my family, or our Christmas tree? All those nice people were asking the questions that demanded answers for which they just weren't prepared.

When I went to India, nearly a year ago, I thought I was prepared. I had been to India before; I was a South Asian Studies major; I spoke some Hindi. I knew that as a white woman I would be seen as a promiscuous being and a sexual prize. I was prepared to follow the University of Chicago’s advice to women, to dress conservatively, to not smile in the streets. And I was prepared for the curiosity my red hair, fair skin and blue eyes would arouse.

But I wasn't prepared.

There was no way to prepare for the eyes, the eyes that every day stared with such entitlement at my body, with no change of expression whether I met their gaze or not. Walking to the fruit seller's or the tailer's I got stares so sharp that they sliced away bits of me piece by piece. I was prepared for my actions to be taken as sex signals; I was not prepared to understand that there were no sex signals, only women's bodies to be taken, or hidden away.

I covered up, but I did not hide. And so I was taken, by eye after eye, picture after picture. Who knows how many photos there are of me in India, or on the internet: photos of me walking, cursing, flipping people off. Who knows how many strangers have used my image as pornography, and those of my friends. I deleted my fair share, but it was a drop in the ocean-- I had no chance of taking back everything they took.

For three months I lived this way, in a traveller's heaven and a woman's hell. I was stalked, groped, masturbated at; and yet I had adventures beyond my imagination. I hoped that my nightmare would end at the tarmac, but that was just the beginning. Back home Christmas red seemed faded after vermillion, and food tasted spiceless and bland. Friends, and family, and classes, and therapy, and everything at all was so much less real than the pain, the rage that was coursing through my blood, screaming so loud it deafened me to all other sounds. And after months of elation at living in freedom, months of running from the memories breathing down my neck, I woke up on April Fool's Day and found I wanted to be dead.

The student counselors diagnosed me with a personality disorder and prescribed me pills I wouldn't take. After a public breakdown I ended up in a psych ward for two days held against my will, and was released on the condition that I took a "mental leave of absence" from school and went to live with my mother. I thought I had lost my mind; I didn't connect any of it to India-- I had moved on. But then a therapist diagnosed me with PTSD and I realized I hadn't moved a single inch. I had frozen in time. And I’d fallen. And I’d shattered.

But I wasn't the only one, the only woman from my trip to be diagnosed with PTSD, to be forced into a psych ward, to wake up wanting to be dead. And I am not the only woman who is on a mental leave of absence from the University of Chicago for reasons of sexual assault and is unable to take classes.

Understanding my pain has helped me own it, if not relieve it. PTSD strikes me as a euphemism, because a syndrome implies a cure. What, may I ask, is the cure for seeing reality, of feeling for three months what its like for one's humanity to be taken away? But I thank God for my experiences in India, and for my disillusionment. Truth is a gift, a burden, and a responsibility. And I mean to share it.

This is the story you don't want to hear when you ask me about India. But this is the story you need.

 

[President]

well there are lot of stories everwhere ..if a foreigner goes to a different place..leave aside different place..even in one country a big country for example..if a person is not of local area..he or she can be bullied..haraassed...etc..pakistanis can post all bs they like..first think about freedom to their own women in their own country..burka system is basically make females a weaker section of the society as compared to giving equal oppotunities to them

 

[Dandpatta]

INdia certainly has a problem. But no one talks about the other rape capital of the world. When you have a horse that you can see and beat, you beat it. The horses in the horizons are too far off.. so you don't touch them.

 

[Icewolf]

Wow, masturbating to someone in public. I cant believe thats sanctioned by indian culture and society as shown on this threads comments

 

[Anurag Rathore]

Smiling sisters shot dead for dancing in the rain: Pakistani girls, 15 and 16, killed along with their mother for making video which 'stained the family honour'
Noor Basra and Noor Sheza were playing outside their home in Chilas
The clip was circulated via mobile phones but caused outrage in the town
The sisters were shot dead last Sunday alongside their mother
It is alleged the girls' step-brother planned the attack with four accomplices to restore the family's honour

MULTAN:
A man was arrested in Muzaffargarh on Monday for raping a woman whose throat he had slit on resistance.

He was spotted by some residents of the area, beaten up and handed over to the police. Police said he had confessed.

They said the 30-year-old peasant, a resident of Rohinlawali, had been dragged into a field on her way for work. When she resisted the suspect, he injured her by slitting her throat. He then raped her.

Some passers-by saw him and beat him up. They took her to district headquarters hospital, where she was pronounced dead. Doctors who carried out the post-mortem said she had passed away before she was raped.
The deceased was a mother of three.

Some residents of the area later protested against the police alleging that they were planning a settlement with the suspect, Shahid, who they said, had the support of a landlord.

Station House Officer Muhammad Husnain told The Express Tribune that the suspect would be treated in accordance with law after. He said a detailed report from the chemical examiner was awaited.

He said an FIR had been registered under Sections 302 and 334 (murder and intentional hurt).

Brutality: Woman dies during rape – The Express Tribune

 

[Anurag Rathore]

India: the Story You Never Wanted to Hear

By RoseChasm | Posted August 18, 2013 | Chicago



When people ask me about my experience studying abroad in India, I always face the same dilemma. How does one convey the contradiction that over the past few months has torn my life apart, and convey it in a single succinct sentence?

“India was wonderful," I go with, "but extremely dangerous for women.” Part of me dreads the follow-up questions, and part of me hopes for more. I'm torn between believing in the efficacy of truth, and being wary of how much truth people want.

Because, how do I describe my three months in the University of Chicago Indian civilizations program when it was half dream, half nightmare? Which half do I give?

Do I tell them about our first night in the city of Pune, when we danced in the Ganesha festival, and leave it at that? Or do I go on and tell them how the festival actually stopped when the American women started dancing, so that we looked around to see a circle of men filming our every move?

Do I tell them about bargaining at the bazaar for beautiful saris costing a few dollars a piece, and not mention the men who stood watching us, who would push by us, clawing at our breasts and groins?

When people compliment me on my Indian sandals, do I talk about the man who stalked me for forty-five minutes after I purchased them, until I yelled in his face in a busy crowd?

Do I describe the lovely hotel in Goa when my strongest memory of it was lying hunched in a fetal position, holding a pair of scissors with the door bolted shut, while the staff member of the hotel who had tried to rape my roommate called me over and over, and breathing into the phone?

How, I ask, was I supposed to tell these stories at a Christmas party? But how could I talk about anything else when the image of the smiling man who masturbated at me on a bus was more real to me than my friends, my family, or our Christmas tree? All those nice people were asking the questions that demanded answers for which they just weren't prepared.

When I went to India, nearly a year ago, I thought I was prepared. I had been to India before; I was a South Asian Studies major; I spoke some Hindi. I knew that as a white woman I would be seen as a promiscuous being and a sexual prize. I was prepared to follow the University of Chicago’s advice to women, to dress conservatively, to not smile in the streets. And I was prepared for the curiosity my red hair, fair skin and blue eyes would arouse.

But I wasn't prepared.

There was no way to prepare for the eyes, the eyes that every day stared with such entitlement at my body, with no change of expression whether I met their gaze or not. Walking to the fruit seller's or the tailer's I got stares so sharp that they sliced away bits of me piece by piece. I was prepared for my actions to be taken as sex signals; I was not prepared to understand that there were no sex signals, only women's bodies to be taken, or hidden away.

I covered up, but I did not hide. And so I was taken, by eye after eye, picture after picture. Who knows how many photos there are of me in India, or on the internet: photos of me walking, cursing, flipping people off. Who knows how many strangers have used my image as pornography, and those of my friends. I deleted my fair share, but it was a drop in the ocean-- I had no chance of taking back everything they took.

For three months I lived this way, in a traveller's heaven and a woman's hell. I was stalked, groped, masturbated at; and yet I had adventures beyond my imagination. I hoped that my nightmare would end at the tarmac, but that was just the beginning. Back home Christmas red seemed faded after vermillion, and food tasted spiceless and bland. Friends, and family, and classes, and therapy, and everything at all was so much less real than the pain, the rage that was coursing through my blood, screaming so loud it deafened me to all other sounds. And after months of elation at living in freedom, months of running from the memories breathing down my neck, I woke up on April Fool's Day and found I wanted to be dead.

The student counselors diagnosed me with a personality disorder and prescribed me pills I wouldn't take. After a public breakdown I ended up in a psych ward for two days held against my will, and was released on the condition that I took a "mental leave of absence" from school and went to live with my mother. I thought I had lost my mind; I didn't connect any of it to India-- I had moved on. But then a therapist diagnosed me with PTSD and I realized I hadn't moved a single inch. I had frozen in time. And I’d fallen. And I’d shattered.

But I wasn't the only one, the only woman from my trip to be diagnosed with PTSD, to be forced into a psych ward, to wake up wanting to be dead. And I am not the only woman who is on a mental leave of absence from the University of Chicago for reasons of sexual assault and is unable to take classes.

Understanding my pain has helped me own it, if not relieve it. PTSD strikes me as a euphemism, because a syndrome implies a cure. What, may I ask, is the cure for seeing reality, of feeling for three months what its like for one's humanity to be taken away? But I thank God for my experiences in India, and for my disillusionment. Truth is a gift, a burden, and a responsibility. And I mean to share it.

This is the story you don't want to hear when you ask me about India. But this is the story you need.

MY WORST EXPERIENCE AT PAKISTAN CONSULATE,BIRMINGHAM UK

I would like to share awful experience i had yesterday with Pakistan consulate Birmingham UK

I needed to attest power of attorney and get the NICOP card.I telephoned all the consulates (London,Birmingham,Bradford and Glasgow) as per the number given on the website but to no avail.I had been ringing them for few days and did leave a email couple of months back.They did not reply at all.Finally somebody from Bradford and Birmingham took the call and give the conflicting information.Even then i decided to go in person as the matter was urgent.i chose Birmingham as it was nearest city(the consulate is not in the city where i live).

When i reached the destination i found the place smaller than the house i live. their was queue to the door and people were just standing on the stairs.it just split between left and right.No body was there to welcome or give information regarding NADRA/ passport services whatsoever.After waiting in the queue having realised this was not right place i went up to the office braving the queue.Got my token and was told to make 3 sets of copies of documents i have got for attestation. i recognised him from the voice and told him you did not ask me to get 3 sets of copies on phone day before yesterday.He was rude and started shouting.He then pointed me to the direction of photocopy machine. I did not want to get into argument and decided to be patient.

i put few coins and the machines turned out to be not functioning at all.No staff to be seen who could assist with the obsolete machine.I had to jump on next machine without recovering my money which got wasted.Photocopies were also costly.

even though i had the token number people who came after me were seen before me.Senior member of staff came all of a sudden from nowhere,shouting at the colleague who was serving me.This should not have happened.He just embarrassed him in front of all people.On my submission of documents,I was asked to come for collection at 4 pm even though their was just one stamp needed.I had 5 hours to kill.I could not possibly go back to another town and then expected to comeback.I took a day off from work.

I went back downstairs for NICOP and queue up again at the front door where the queue was moving at the snail pace.There was no waiting area.we were all standing on the stairs for hours and hours.I felt bad for 2 white ladies.One was told after couple of hours standing in the queue that she did not have all the documents.The other one was in front of me with 4 kids.

Now the NADRA facilities was all in one room( reception desk,photograph,data entry) smaller then the room you would expect in any house.It was fully packed with people.Since their was not waiting area,people have to confined themselves to that room for next stage of the application.

It was a cash only services.Luckily i had exact (£42) gave to him for 6 weeks postal delivery.This fees could not be justified given the duration of the service.The guy was contradicting the information given on the website. I asked a question for my friend ,whether the students are exempt from the fees?He said he was not aware of.Instead he made it up that 'it would be only for scholarship students' which was not true.He put the money in his pocket and was gone without explaining the further procedure.I had to wait and try finding things written on the wall if it could help.

Since the small room was fully packed their was no data protection and confidentiality.I waited long for picture to be taken and then another hour for data to be entered as their was only 2 staff members who was dealing long queue leading to the from door.By that time it was 4 pm and their was another queue for collection of documents.I had to join them and once i got my documents i did not look back. Just wanted to go far away from this horrible place.

To conclude this place was absolute shambles mucky,small,people were running like headless chicken with no body to assist.The staff was unprofessional(not even educated),find it difficult to communicate.They were bunch of ignorant morons who don't know how to speak to humans.The staff is very rude, don't explain things properly.completely useless.They have been employed to facilitate overseas Pakistanis but they pretend they are doing us a massive favour.The website is not updated fora decade.Their is no facilities such as parking,waiting room,air conditioning,heating. Don't expect them to answer your telephone call.Elderly/disable people are also made to wait on the stair case. No confidentiality everyone knows your business in there No data protection your photo's and finger prints are literally taken in front of everyone.Oh be sure to make a few trips there as they never know there own requirements they always seem to forget to tell you something.

It was worse than i would have ever imagine.You would expect to get good service in country like UK.I realised that service in Pakistan was not that bad.I would NOT recommend anyone to go there.

What kind of message they are giving to the overseas Pakistanis.

GET RID OF THEM ALL !!!


See man every country has short comings ,I agree delhi also has it but u tag them publically to show sarcasm,then pakistan will have more if i target them on targets.
I hope u get it what i am saying
Peace
Better del this thread

Wow, masturbating to someone in public. I cant believe thats sanctioned by indian culture and society as shown on this threads comments

Eeryone knows we have cultural freedom and if i target pakistan on same thing u will end up reading them

 

[acetophenol]

Wow, masturbating to someone in public. I cant believe thats sanctioned by indian culture and society as shown on this threads comments

No one sanctioned public masturbation in Indian culture, neither did any one support it in this thread.

 

[anant_s]

I'll narrate a small incidence that happened last year.
I was travelling on Western railways sub-urban line where some tourists were also present. Between Bhayander and Nalla-sopara (northern suburbs of mumbai) we saw some boys passing lewd comments on the ladies, which we chose to ignore. However after one point it become beyond tolerable and we could see the ladies getting uncomfortable. at this point an elderly person pulled the chain and shouted at the idoits afer which people moved into action and gave the Romeos a good beating before handing over them to Railway police.
I don't defend my society, some shameful events happen everyday everywhere, but please donot generalize this for the mindset of whole country.
perverts are everywhere, but then so are good people.

 

[Badbadman]

Wow, masturbating to someone in public. I cant believe thats sanctioned by indian culture and society as shown on this threads comments

"Wow you getting crazy over, atleast he didn't shot her in the head. That's what your society sanctions. That's what land of pure is defending. Amazing how you can come and post crap when half of your country is out of your control. And amazing how prime minister of land of pure got afraid of the threats by TTP to his family, when he stops hanging of one of them at the last moment. These are just few STORIES you don't want to hear. Take it easy anyway.

 

[indiatester]

It actually points to a breakdown of law and order. When small incidents are ignored, they embolden the anti-social elements leading to larger problems. It reflects badly on us. Leaders who steer the course of the country towards a better path are badly needed.