I Cannot Stop Worrying About 'Getting Raped’ Because I Stay In Pune

(Editor's Note: This article was written before the police investigation revealed that the suspect detained in connection with the alleged rape was the woman’s friend, and not a stranger who had gained entry by posing as a courier delivery agent. It has also come to light that it was the woman herself who took a selfie with him and typed the threatening message on her phone)

My mornings nowadays begin with fear — fear that grows with every new rape case reported in Pune. While I often refrain from reading about such crimes happening across India, it's impossible to ignore them when they occur in the very city I live and work in. As a journalist, professional obligations leave me no choice but to read, report and write numerous stories about these horrifying incidents.

Last year, I woke up to the shocking news of a gang rape at Bopdev Ghat — a scenic spot on the city's outskirts known for its breathtaking views. For me, it was more than just another headline. I had once been there with a group of friends, but I remember choosing to stay inside the car, afraid, because I was aware of the crimes that had been reported in that area.

I remember looking out at the well-lit city from that dark hilltop — a city that hosts thousands of women like me, women who think a hundred times before stepping out of their homes, because the fear of rape never truly leaves us.

Since then, victim shaming has become so rampant that I’ve started dressing conservatively, wearing kurtis and sharing my live location every time I step out after dark.

Despite the brutality of the Bopdev case, much of the public response focused on blaming the survivor, questioning why she was out at a secluded place with a man at night. Before the third accused in that case was even arrested, another rape case rocked the city. This time, the crime occurred inside a government bus at the Swargate Bus Stand — one of the busiest in the city and just a stone’s throw from a police station.

The accused in the Swargate case was not yet caught when the social media commentary began. People had already started blaming the victim — a young woman who had simply chosen to go home at 5am from the city bus stand, and happened to speak to a stranger. Because humans interact. That’s what we do.

I remember boarding a bus to Mumbai two days after the Swargate case. I was terrified. I sent countless messages to friends — “I’m boarding the bus from Swargate” — only when I reached safely could I breathe properly again. At the same time, news broke that the accused in the Swargate case had been arrested. But the survivor was already slipping into depression, haunted not just by the crime but by the relentless name-calling and character assassination on social media.

As days passed, I returned to routine life — but not without panic attacks, obsessive door-checking every night and an irrational mistrust of every man I came across. In my head, each one was capable of raping me. It may sound inhuman, paranoid and stupid, but I couldn’t stop. My thoughts kept returning to a single truth: I could be raped at any moment — and then left to wait for years for justice, alone, and blamed for my own trauma.

After that case, I added more items to my mental list of dos and don’ts — precautions I believed might keep me safe. But then came a case that shattered even that illusion. A 22-year-old techie was raped inside her own home by a man posing as a delivery agent. He tricked her, saying he’d forgotten his pen and when she turned to get one, he locked the door behind him and raped her.

And once again, society asked: “Why did she let him in?”

The truth: she didn’t. He barged in.

As a working woman, I often order things online. After the Mumbai molestation case involving a delivery agent, I began growing more cautious. I remember once closing the door on a delivery man’s face while going to get cash for a payment. I felt guilty. On other occasions, I didn’t greet them or say thank you — and felt terrible. But society doesn’t give girls the liberty to act on basic human instincts. Politeness can be dangerous. Caution can be called rude, but it is okay.

Since the techie’s rape, I’ve resumed frantically checking door latches every night, imagining scenarios of how I’d defend myself against a potential rapist. In the past 24 hours alone, although I barely interacted with any unknown men, I imagined thousands of them raping me — in hundreds of different ways. In one mental scenario, I screamed and got killed. In another, I stayed silent and “got raped,” and then society asked, “Why didn’t she scream?” But when I screamed and died, they asked, “Why did she resist? She could’ve been alive.”

It might sound paranoid. But sometimes it feels like society expects women to be prepared to be raped. While a man might leave his home thinking about traffic or meetings, a woman walks out wondering if today is the day she will be raped.

When the 2012 Delhi gang rape case happened, I was still in engineering college. I remember sitting upright for 12 hours in a government bus with my backpack on my lap, trying to cover myself. The brutal details that followed left me in depression. As people debated what the victim wore and why she resisted, two voices stood out to me.

One was Nirbhaya’s mother. The other was my father.

At 20, I asked him, “Why is society blaming her for going to a movie with her boyfriend?”

He looked at me and said, "Even if she were a prostitute who had taken money but didn’t feel like doing it, no one should touch her. If someone touches you and you don’t like it, beat him, kill him, get killed or stay silent. Do what your heart says. Because no matter what you do, society will blame you. But you’ll have one person standing behind you and that is me."

Even today, when fresh cases shake me to the core, I’m blessed with the presence of strong men in my life who protect me — and who I know will stand by me, and not shame me, if “I get raped.”

(The author is a Web Desk Journalist at The Free Press Journal. Opinions expressed are personal.)