So did we need a global poll to tell us ours is the unsafest nation? Indian women have long stopped sending their foreign sisters postcards saying, ‘wish you were here.’

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Now we are busy trying to migrate.

No Indian woman goes out without risking a little groping-shoping; sometime they don’t even have to go out, the groper comes home or is a family member.

The unblinking stares, lewd comments and ‘accidental’ touches from the opposite sex are as omnipresent as they are unnerving.

This male arousal is directly proportional to the levels of female disinterest. The recent killing of an army officer’s wife by another army officer is an example of this extreme optimism by men when it comes to wooing techniques.

Propelled by Bollywood tales of women saying no and nahi before cooing their assent, the desi Romeos keep pushing for a yes till eternity.

Kashmir to Kanyakumari, we have rapists in every state. They are no racists either, foreigners are seen as fair game to con, dupe and lech at.

It is an equal opportunity platform as far as the eve-teaser is concerned; he only requires you be female. Baby, grandma, white, black, rich, poor, tall, short... all are welcome.

Thanks to their dedicated efforts, India has been able to top at something. Defeating Afghanistan and Syria, we are the world’s number one nation when it comes to abusing women and keeping them guessing about their safety.

The Thomson Reuters Foundation announced this recently, stating the obvious. In terms of human trafficking, sex slavery, domestic servitude, female infanticide and forced marriages, our women have everything to fear. The National Crime Records Bureau puts sex crimes at 100 a day, with the number only going up with every passing day.

At nights when mothers tuck their kids in bed, they say, ‘sleep fast or Gabbar will get you.’ Gabbar being everyone out there – the perennial bogeyman evoked by parents to warn their little girls against predators.

Our phobia of public transport stems from this distrust; women have been raped and killed in moving trains.

We don’t want our daughters to work or study away from home; their phones are filled with missed calls from us, checking if they are fine at any time of the day.

If they ever pick up the phone we sheepishly confess that we have, er, nothing to say, just, you know, wanting to know the call will be answered.

When I see young women in malls and cafés, I say a little prayer; I never want their confidence dented by a creep. I wish I didn’t feel protective when giggly groups of girls pass me by. No woman willingly walks into a crowd. We are conscious about how we dress wherever we go. We rarely initiate conversations with strange men.

If in a lift with a man, we keep our gaze averted. Women cross fingers walking down dark streets as most lampposts have no lamps. We peer into our mobile phones if we are alone to signal how content we are by ourselves. And as we grow older that disgusted expression becomes permanent.

This then is the weather report from India at all times of the year: stay covered from head to toe if you are a woman.

Shinie Antony is a writer and editor based in Bangalore. Her books include The Girl Who Couldn't Love, Barefoot and Pregnant, Planet Polygamous, and the anthologies Why We Don’t Talk, An Unsuitable Woman, Boo. Winner of the Commonwealth Short Story Asia Prize for her story A Dog’s Death in 2003, she is co-founder of the Bangalore Literature Festival and director of the Bengaluru Poetry Festival.

First Published:Jun 30, 2018 12:02 AM IST