I was returning home from a family friends house in Bandra, in split decision I told the auto driver, not to take me to Bandra Station, but rather to Khar Road Station. It was a little closer but other than that, there was no reason for me to have taken the auto down there.
I got to the station, paid the driver, considered looking at the cheap glasses frames that were on display before deciding to punch my tickets and get on the train. I passed my coupons through the machines, and with the buzz of the printer, my train ticket was ready.
I walked up the stairs to the elevated walkway to get to my train on platform 4, I had to catch a Slow train to Churchgate where I'd eventually get off at Mahalaxmi. I spotted that the train was already there, and that meant that it was also about to leave the station, so I hurried.
In my hurry, I almost missed the woman and the man fighting.
The walkway I was on, connected to another, slightly higher walkway which eventually descended into a rather shady looking region. On this walkway, brightly illuminated, visible to everyone around, was a man and a woman.
The man wasn't particularly tall, nor was he built. Just the lean build you'd expect from someone who probably had to work hard every day of his life.
He held the woman's arms and was pleading with her.
I stopped, aware that my 5 second delay was costing me the train home. Nevertheless I stood and waited, unaware whether I had just caught a couple in a bad moment, or whether I was in the front row of a abuse case that would never be covered.
I stood and waited, not because society has been for the last 2 years, compelling people like myself to make a stand but because I wasn't able to dismiss it as a lovers quarrel, or an abuse case.
He held her arms and pleaded with her, I couldn't tell what he was saying, nor would I have understood it. Ignorant me, I don't know enough of the language, despite being from India and having lived in Maharashtra for four years.
She struggled back, telling him decisively that he should let go of her hands.
It had been three minutes and another train to Churchgate carried on below me. It had been three minutes, and a hundred different commuters had walked past the same scene unfolding before me.
I saw a ray of hope, two men, dressed in khaki's, one of them carrying a lit torch. They had to be from the railway or from the police, someone with power who could do something about this!
So I moved closer, up the steps, hoping that these men would notice my attention and notice that they weren't alone on that platform, but rather that a man and a woman were having an argument and that something needed to be done. But they didn't they moved on.
I was committed now, I had stepped onto their platform, I was no longer a bystander, I was someone who can and should do something.
But what should I do? Imagine that he's her husband, imagine he did something wrong and he's begging forgiveness. Imagine that she's his wife, and she's tired of dealing with his shit and wants to leave. Do I have the right to intervene in that private matter? Do I have the right to label him as an abuser and get aggressive with him?
Once again, failing to find an answer, I resolved to remain silent.
She shook free his grip, and tried to move away, but he wasn't having any of that and grabbed her again. She once again told him, extremely calmly, to let go of her. I stepped in, thinking that if anything I could tell him to let her go. That would be enough, yes.
He looked at me and let go of her hands, she tried to move away, but he immediately moved with her, like a defender in a basketball game, covering her every shift with a counter.
I followed, I had raised my voice and said something, I was now part of this process. I had to see what happened.
It is now when I am writing this that I am reminded of the Pulitzer Prize winning photograph by Anthony Roberts "Fatal Hollywood Drama" from 1973 (No. 7) Roberts was armed with his camera, as was I, but he also had his fists, his own strength and his own voice. He took a photo and created a commotion, but the result of that was that a person lost their life.
I was in the same position, I could have taken a photograph in that very moment when he was clutching her hands. I could have taken one even when he pushed her back and she sat down making him sit down as well.
I didn't take the photograph, but continued to watch. Understand that in Roberts scenario, there was direct violence happening, here it just seemed like she was sick of him and he wanted to get through to her.
He raised his voice, causing me to once again get his attention and remind him that I was there. A passerby walked passed me and asked what I was doing, I turned to him and said 'Doing something, could you do something also?' The passerby stood for a bit, like me, just watching, and when the man got angry he asked him what was wrong.
While he never got an answer, he did get him to realize and to hold back. With both of us there, the man decided to let her go, and the woman rose and walked down the stairs. The passerby left, and immediately the man followed after her.
As I'd mentioned, that area was considerably more shady, there were no trains stopping and thus, no people.
Again, I felt that it was possible that the situation might have been resolved, because it became clearer that she knew this man; she never ran, she never screamed, she never hit him and neither did he.
I stood and watched from the overpass, simply because the thought of being alone, could have emboldened him and possibly make him do something.
The third train to Churchgate went, and this time, another train moved in the opposite direction on the same platform that the man and the woman were on.
As the passing train cast them into shadow, I could see that he was either trying to grab her or hold her back, as her yellow sari waved chaotically.
I ran down the stairs, as the two of them moved down the platform, shouting once again to get his attention, so that he knew that he was being watched by someone who wasn't going anywhere.
This scenario had now moved from the overpass to the platform. On the opposite side, was a desk that is generally occupied by police, I looked there, hoping that at least now, someone would do something. That maybe there would be a cop sitting there.
There were two men sitting on the bench, neither one was in uniform. My hopes fell a bit, was I to have to intervene? and if so, what would I do?
One of the men from the bench stood and shouted across the railway lines. The man looked back, he had once again found her hands and was holding them tight.
The voice asked him to let her go, but being so far, the impact of the words were lost. The man from the bench jumped down and moved towards the two of them. He hoisted himself onto the platform we were on and told them to get lost.
Here's the interesting part, while the man held the woman's hands, he'd never hit her, not even once. Yet, the first thing the man from the bench did, was strike the man across the face. The first direct act of violence, came not from the two involved parties, but from an external source.
The man from the bench told them to leave and he led them back up the steps of the overpass, I followed behind him.
He turned and asked me what I was doing, and I told him clearly that I saw them arguing and I wanted to make sure no one got hurt. The man from the bench said that the argumentative man was drunk, as if that solved everything.
I asked him who he was, and he replied that he was a police officer.
My mind was relieved, because I had done what I had to do, I made sure no one got hurt and I made sure the matter didn't escalate and I similarly had managed to see that a police officer was to take charge of the situation.
However this all was bullshit.
The couple walked out of the station, the same way I had originally come in from, the police officer walked back down to his bench and I walked down to the train going to Churchgate.
The entire ride back, my hands shook. My mind was on fire. This incident concerned me.
This is not the first time such an incident has happened in front of me, however this is the first time I couldn't say if I should intervene or not.
I could go on about the alternatives to this event could have been. The fact is that he was drunk, she was not willing to deal with his shit. He could have lost his temper, she could have been assaulted. The thing is that nothing did happen.
Now is that because I was there? I was minimally intrusive, so I doubt it was me. It was because it was a public place? Nope, out of everyone who walked past, only a handful stood to watch, and I was the only one who involved myself. It was because the police got involved? The cop only relocated the matter, he was the only person who actually assaulted anyone. If the man was drunk, and if there is a law on public intoxication, he should have been arrested on the spot and that's it.
What I'm getting at, is that there's a chance that the problem that was visible, may have not been a problem at all. The problem I see, is that we're being conditioned to view events like these and explode them into potential rape cases or abuse victims and charge into the matter without a moment's thought.
I don't know whether what I did was right, or wrong. But I do know that I didn't judge him like society expected me to and I know that I wasn't going to shield someone today, when I very well wouldn't be able to shield her tomorrow.
This is a potentially unpopular opinion.
I got to the station, paid the driver, considered looking at the cheap glasses frames that were on display before deciding to punch my tickets and get on the train. I passed my coupons through the machines, and with the buzz of the printer, my train ticket was ready.
I walked up the stairs to the elevated walkway to get to my train on platform 4, I had to catch a Slow train to Churchgate where I'd eventually get off at Mahalaxmi. I spotted that the train was already there, and that meant that it was also about to leave the station, so I hurried.
In my hurry, I almost missed the woman and the man fighting.
The walkway I was on, connected to another, slightly higher walkway which eventually descended into a rather shady looking region. On this walkway, brightly illuminated, visible to everyone around, was a man and a woman.
The man wasn't particularly tall, nor was he built. Just the lean build you'd expect from someone who probably had to work hard every day of his life.
He held the woman's arms and was pleading with her.
I stopped, aware that my 5 second delay was costing me the train home. Nevertheless I stood and waited, unaware whether I had just caught a couple in a bad moment, or whether I was in the front row of a abuse case that would never be covered.
I stood and waited, not because society has been for the last 2 years, compelling people like myself to make a stand but because I wasn't able to dismiss it as a lovers quarrel, or an abuse case.
He held her arms and pleaded with her, I couldn't tell what he was saying, nor would I have understood it. Ignorant me, I don't know enough of the language, despite being from India and having lived in Maharashtra for four years.
She struggled back, telling him decisively that he should let go of her hands.
It had been three minutes and another train to Churchgate carried on below me. It had been three minutes, and a hundred different commuters had walked past the same scene unfolding before me.
I saw a ray of hope, two men, dressed in khaki's, one of them carrying a lit torch. They had to be from the railway or from the police, someone with power who could do something about this!
So I moved closer, up the steps, hoping that these men would notice my attention and notice that they weren't alone on that platform, but rather that a man and a woman were having an argument and that something needed to be done. But they didn't they moved on.
I was committed now, I had stepped onto their platform, I was no longer a bystander, I was someone who can and should do something.
But what should I do? Imagine that he's her husband, imagine he did something wrong and he's begging forgiveness. Imagine that she's his wife, and she's tired of dealing with his shit and wants to leave. Do I have the right to intervene in that private matter? Do I have the right to label him as an abuser and get aggressive with him?
Once again, failing to find an answer, I resolved to remain silent.
She shook free his grip, and tried to move away, but he wasn't having any of that and grabbed her again. She once again told him, extremely calmly, to let go of her. I stepped in, thinking that if anything I could tell him to let her go. That would be enough, yes.
He looked at me and let go of her hands, she tried to move away, but he immediately moved with her, like a defender in a basketball game, covering her every shift with a counter.
I followed, I had raised my voice and said something, I was now part of this process. I had to see what happened.
It is now when I am writing this that I am reminded of the Pulitzer Prize winning photograph by Anthony Roberts "Fatal Hollywood Drama" from 1973 (No. 7) Roberts was armed with his camera, as was I, but he also had his fists, his own strength and his own voice. He took a photo and created a commotion, but the result of that was that a person lost their life.
I was in the same position, I could have taken a photograph in that very moment when he was clutching her hands. I could have taken one even when he pushed her back and she sat down making him sit down as well.
I didn't take the photograph, but continued to watch. Understand that in Roberts scenario, there was direct violence happening, here it just seemed like she was sick of him and he wanted to get through to her.
He raised his voice, causing me to once again get his attention and remind him that I was there. A passerby walked passed me and asked what I was doing, I turned to him and said 'Doing something, could you do something also?' The passerby stood for a bit, like me, just watching, and when the man got angry he asked him what was wrong.
While he never got an answer, he did get him to realize and to hold back. With both of us there, the man decided to let her go, and the woman rose and walked down the stairs. The passerby left, and immediately the man followed after her.
As I'd mentioned, that area was considerably more shady, there were no trains stopping and thus, no people.
Again, I felt that it was possible that the situation might have been resolved, because it became clearer that she knew this man; she never ran, she never screamed, she never hit him and neither did he.
I stood and watched from the overpass, simply because the thought of being alone, could have emboldened him and possibly make him do something.
The third train to Churchgate went, and this time, another train moved in the opposite direction on the same platform that the man and the woman were on.
As the passing train cast them into shadow, I could see that he was either trying to grab her or hold her back, as her yellow sari waved chaotically.
I ran down the stairs, as the two of them moved down the platform, shouting once again to get his attention, so that he knew that he was being watched by someone who wasn't going anywhere.
This scenario had now moved from the overpass to the platform. On the opposite side, was a desk that is generally occupied by police, I looked there, hoping that at least now, someone would do something. That maybe there would be a cop sitting there.
There were two men sitting on the bench, neither one was in uniform. My hopes fell a bit, was I to have to intervene? and if so, what would I do?
One of the men from the bench stood and shouted across the railway lines. The man looked back, he had once again found her hands and was holding them tight.
The voice asked him to let her go, but being so far, the impact of the words were lost. The man from the bench jumped down and moved towards the two of them. He hoisted himself onto the platform we were on and told them to get lost.
Here's the interesting part, while the man held the woman's hands, he'd never hit her, not even once. Yet, the first thing the man from the bench did, was strike the man across the face. The first direct act of violence, came not from the two involved parties, but from an external source.
The man from the bench told them to leave and he led them back up the steps of the overpass, I followed behind him.
He turned and asked me what I was doing, and I told him clearly that I saw them arguing and I wanted to make sure no one got hurt. The man from the bench said that the argumentative man was drunk, as if that solved everything.
I asked him who he was, and he replied that he was a police officer.
My mind was relieved, because I had done what I had to do, I made sure no one got hurt and I made sure the matter didn't escalate and I similarly had managed to see that a police officer was to take charge of the situation.
However this all was bullshit.
The couple walked out of the station, the same way I had originally come in from, the police officer walked back down to his bench and I walked down to the train going to Churchgate.
The entire ride back, my hands shook. My mind was on fire. This incident concerned me.
This is not the first time such an incident has happened in front of me, however this is the first time I couldn't say if I should intervene or not.
I could go on about the alternatives to this event could have been. The fact is that he was drunk, she was not willing to deal with his shit. He could have lost his temper, she could have been assaulted. The thing is that nothing did happen.
Now is that because I was there? I was minimally intrusive, so I doubt it was me. It was because it was a public place? Nope, out of everyone who walked past, only a handful stood to watch, and I was the only one who involved myself. It was because the police got involved? The cop only relocated the matter, he was the only person who actually assaulted anyone. If the man was drunk, and if there is a law on public intoxication, he should have been arrested on the spot and that's it.
What I'm getting at, is that there's a chance that the problem that was visible, may have not been a problem at all. The problem I see, is that we're being conditioned to view events like these and explode them into potential rape cases or abuse victims and charge into the matter without a moment's thought.
I don't know whether what I did was right, or wrong. But I do know that I didn't judge him like society expected me to and I know that I wasn't going to shield someone today, when I very well wouldn't be able to shield her tomorrow.
This is a potentially unpopular opinion.
