Unsafe City?

Unsafe City?

From Pensioner's Paradise to Garden City to Pub City to Silicon City. And now Bangalore is fast turning into Crime City. The rape and murder of BPO employee Pratiba has rattled women in the city. When they get back to work after the weekend, it is with an edgy wariness

The Hindu

Organisations like BEL and HAL have buses ferrying women. But no such incident has happened Because the drivers are employees, and therefore, accountable

Nandini Mahanta is thoroughly shaken up. A lot more worried than she already was. After reading Saturday's papers about the gruesome rape and murder of BPO employee Pratiba Srikantha Murthy, 53-year-old Nandini is worried for her own daughter's safety. She had wanted her daughter Namita (28) to quit because the night shift was affecting her health. Now the anxious mother is adamant that Namita must quit for other reasons too. Namita works for a BPO and is regularly on the night shift, coming home sometimes at 1.30 or 2.30 a.m. Living in an extension area, Namita is often the last to be dropped after her shift.

"After reading about this incident, which mother will send her daughter to work in peace?" asks Nandini. "The question of safety will always be there in the back of our minds. Whom do you trust? Colleagues too are here today and gone tomorrow because they change jobs very often. And today, it's not just call centres. My daughter tells me she'll have to work late even if she gets a different job. Late shifts seem imminent for women today."

It's not just Nandini alone who will be apprehensive for a long time to come. Pratiba's rape and murder have sent shock waves among women in the city, and only further intensified their fears for their own safety, and that of family and friends. "It could happen to any one of us," has hit everyone's mind. It has almost triggered a phobia, like most such incidents do, till they are once again buried from public view and forgotten.

A sea change in the nature of jobs and lifestyle means lakhs of youngsters are working till the wee hours. The fact that they earn well, use ATM cards at night, and carry a stash of cash, often make them soft targets for the conniving criminal.

Being a woman, professional or homemaker, comes with the heavy baggage that slams down on the toe at every corner you turn.

On the road, at any given time, they are the target of sexual harassment. "Look at her clothes: she had it coming," is the stock reply when the issue is brought up. Women travelling alone know the feeling of being undressed by strange eyes and groped in the dark. "Why can't they go with an escort?" is the retort.

An innocent morning walk can turn into a "chain-snatching incident". A shopping spree or a mundane trip to the market can turn into a "purse-snatching incident".

Women are advised to carry pepper spray, chilli powder, small knives, umbrellas, join self-defence courses, kick the attacker in the groin, be on their guard constantly. Today, trust is a word that is better wiped out of your dictionary. Arati Punwani, a 22-year-old dance choreographer, inevitably stays out late for rehearsals. She doesn't risk taking an auto at 11 p.m. "My family does not allow me to travel alone at night. Either they pick me up or ensure that a friend follows me all the way home. I haven't had problems till now. But every time I ride on a dark and lonely road, I do wonder how I would deal with any such situation." Arati says danger can be lurking anywhere, and doesn't like to call unnecessary attention to herself. "Even if you wear a sleeveless shirt, people stare at you when you stop at signals. That can be very creepy. I believe Bangalore is a safe city, but I wouldn't want to be foolish either."

Ishita Anand, a call centre employee, was on the night shift for over two years, and says she never once had any suspicions about her drivers. "I had always trusted them and the employers." Recently she opted for the day shift but ends up working late. "I do fear going by auto after 10, and my dad offers to pick me up or he asks me to call and give him the auto's licence plate number." Her parents have always been protective about her, and Ishita confesses she gave her mother hell when she partied till late in the night during her college days. "But now I understand why they felt that way, and why my mother stood waiting at the gate for me at night. I would be strict with my kids."

Joint Commissioner of Police (Crime) M.C. Narayana Gowda is quick to say that of late, with the increased use of ATMs and mobiles, cases of robbery have increased, especially involving software engineers or BPO/call centre employees who work late hours. "These employees can be identified easily because they wear their identification tags around their neck and become easy targets. Maybe women have been targeted for robberies because they may not fight back. But instances like Pratiba's of rape and murder are few and isolated."

Being a single woman can really make matters worse. Gayatri Nair, a doctor who drives herself to work, often has to take her patients' call at odd hours. "Being a single woman, the sense of insecurity will always be there. I am always on my guard. My windows are always up when I drive and I feel safe that way. And I stop for no one." She has been chased by two-wheelers and cars when she's been out at night. She just accelerates during such times. "All women have inane fears, and I have morbid fears of safety," she confesses.

Vimala K.S., a bank employee, is the State Secretary of the All India Democratic Women's Association. She turned up on M.G. Road Saturday afternoon, because she heard there was a protest by employees of BPO companies in the light of what happened to Pratiba. But she hardly found any fellow protestors. In fact, the media clearly outnumbered them. Some BPO employees who had come chose to leave when they saw the scores of mediapersons who had come with cameras and recorders. "Society in general has become insensitive to happenings. There is no sense of belonging — the feeling that my presence will create a difference." Vimala also observes how the higher paid people are, the less organised they are, and less supportive of each other. "If this had happened to a beedi-roller, there would have been hundreds of fellow workers protesting here."

She reasons that considering every facility entails a contract, there is very little accountability in the outsourcing industry. "Organisations like BEL and HAL have had buses ferrying their women factory employees for long. But no such incident has happened. Why? Because these drivers were employees, and therefore, accountable."

Shalini Pramod, a schoolteacher, constantly worries about the safety of her daughter Paawana, studying in II PUC. "She leaves home at 5 a.m. to go for tuition. It's mostly dark and the only people around are the paperboys. So one of us drops her at the bus stop and waits till she boards the bus. A few friends accompany her, so there is some confidence about her safety. Some of her friends have mobile phones, so she calls if she is delayed or can't get a connecting bus. But again she gets back by 7 p.m. and there's always tension till she comes home." Shalini confesses that if she had a son, she wouldn't have worried so much about him.

But Nandini thinks otherwise. If she worries for her daughter working in a BPO, she also worries about her son, a software engineer who works late nights at Electronics City and takes the shuttle back home. "These days, boys are as vulnerable to such dangers too. They carry expensive mobiles, wear expensive watches and are attacked often. The distance of the home from the workplace makes it so unsafe."

However, call centre veteran Lakshmi has the last word. "Security is an illusion. Anyone can get away with murder in broad daylight, equipped with the surprise element. The key is how you react to a situation. Never lose your poise or equanimity and put up a fight," is this piece of wisdom from this doughty girl.