I was in the women's washroom of my office an hour ago. Since I work for a European consulting major, they make sure employees have the swankiest of facilities. So the washroom has an automatic air-spray that keeps any unpleasant odor away. Two female attendants are constantly supervising the floors for water droplets left behind by users. We have moisturizing handwash dispensers at every basin, ejaculating pink floral perfumed crème into our hands for sanitary purposes. Mirrors line the long walls adjacent to the long polished granite basin stands. And a long mirror graces another wall for dressing purpose.
I have often run into women huddled together over make-up kits, applying lavish amounts of foundations, lipsticks, eye-shadows and every other kind of cosmetic color on their faces and necks. Sometimes I have come across teams of disgruntled girls, discussing the “bossy” boss or the “bitchy” friend. Character assassination done in a group, serves as a great unifier, so I have seen – drawing collective solace in dissecting someone’s marital life, or wondering why so-and-so is not getting married yet.
No, don’t get me wrong. I am not an eavesdropper.
I am just an observer of people. I like looking at people’s hands while they speak animatedly. I love watching people watch other people, as their faces change lines. I love looking inside people's homes when the curtains are slightly permissive. But only, while I have no thinking to do. I am usually a thoughtful person – not in a positive sense at all. I mean, I think a lot.
So my next door friends, Kakoli and Tintin often accuse me of not noticing them passing me by in the neighborhood, even when they have made every effort to draw my attention. Yes, I am often lost in my own thoughts. So, do not assume that I am a nosy parker.
Accidental observations, who can help? But yes, when I am watching, I am paying good attention. And I am smart (or so I think) and the likelihood of me missing a detail is very slim. So as I was saying, the washroom of my organization makes for some interesting themes.
Only today, I witnessed something disturbing.
Sobs.
Yes, sobs - in gulps, in gurgles, in sniffs. Uncontrollable. Coming from inside of a pristinely white wash cubicle. I tried to pay attention to my hands. I was getting ready to go down for lunch. My friends were waiting outside. Please note, I have more male friends than female, so they do not have access to the washroom that I use. So we do follow the daily ritual of cleansing our hands in gender designated spaces before going down to eat. And I had got in to do just the same. I turned on the stainless steel tap in full force, so that the sound of the water would drown the one that was coming from inside, as I thought hard.
Should I wait for the person inside to come out and make an appearance? Not of course, because I want to identify the face for future gossip reference, but just in case she needed help. I washed my hands. Plucked a cleaning tissue from the Kimberley Clarke contraption on the wall, I wiped my hands clean and waited. I texted my lunch-mates to go ahead to the cafeteria, citing a toilet emergency as excuse. After a while, the sobs stopped. I heard the click of the door and looking at the mirror, caught sight of a red-eyed girl emerge. She was so engaged in her misery that she did not notice me staring at her reflection. She was still taking sharp short breaths, clearly in shock.
“Are you alright?” I asked.
“Yes, I am, thanks.” she said managing a weak smile. “I am sorry for being so silly.”
“No, you were not being silly. Just human. Do let me know if you need any help”
It is a strange but a common trait among women that you can suddenly open up to a stranger in a washroom. And so she did. She told me of a boyfriend. A guy who works as a software engineer.
“He is a good guy. Loves me a lot.” Her shy smile stretched her lips into a beautiful upward arch.
“I am sure he does.”
“He is just so possessive that I cannot talk with any other guy. I wore a tight pair of jeans yesterday and he was still lashing out at me for flaunting my legs to the public. And, oh yes, he doesn’t let me wear lipstick. He says, only whores wear lip colors. Whores, who get raped and very deservedly, he says. Of course, he has my best interest in mind. With so many rapes happening around, why attract further attention? So i don't blame him but I just got a little emotional in there.”
She said all that in one long breath, or so it seemed to me. Too quick in her beau’s defense.
I stood there. Motionless. Wordless.
I leaned on the basin pedestals for support.
I was looking at a victim.
Of what?
Domestic abuse?
Too much love?
Of best intentions gone sour?
What was I looking at? A fresh engineer out of college, who had dreams of setting up home with a man. Happiness and freedom. Comfort and respect?
But this man? Surely not?
I decided not to speak a word. I patted her back and said: “Things will work out, one way or the other. And oh yes, one more thing. Tell your boyfriend that whores are women with a profession just like you and I. They do not deserve to get raped.”
As I walked out to be met by a very worried looking crowd of my male colleagues, who demanded to know what was wrong with me or if I needed any medicine, I shook my head into a silent ‘no’. We marched toward the glass door.
For my friends, who are right now in an abusive relationship that apparently parades as a “caring” one, or are witnessing someone else go through this, I am posting a few links.
Please, please take a moment to read.
It is about making your own choice. Not letting anyone else make yours.
Be it a lipstick or a backless top.
Note: All images sourced from the internet.
-----------------------------------------------------
1. http://www.sheknows.com/love-and-sex/articles/1008571/8-signs-youre-in-a-dangerous-relationship
2. http://www.livestrong.com/article/101671-danger-signs-possessive-relationships/
3. http://www.womansavers.com/dangerous-men.asp
I have often run into women huddled together over make-up kits, applying lavish amounts of foundations, lipsticks, eye-shadows and every other kind of cosmetic color on their faces and necks. Sometimes I have come across teams of disgruntled girls, discussing the “bossy” boss or the “bitchy” friend. Character assassination done in a group, serves as a great unifier, so I have seen – drawing collective solace in dissecting someone’s marital life, or wondering why so-and-so is not getting married yet.
No, don’t get me wrong. I am not an eavesdropper.
I am just an observer of people. I like looking at people’s hands while they speak animatedly. I love watching people watch other people, as their faces change lines. I love looking inside people's homes when the curtains are slightly permissive. But only, while I have no thinking to do. I am usually a thoughtful person – not in a positive sense at all. I mean, I think a lot.
So my next door friends, Kakoli and Tintin often accuse me of not noticing them passing me by in the neighborhood, even when they have made every effort to draw my attention. Yes, I am often lost in my own thoughts. So, do not assume that I am a nosy parker.
Accidental observations, who can help? But yes, when I am watching, I am paying good attention. And I am smart (or so I think) and the likelihood of me missing a detail is very slim. So as I was saying, the washroom of my organization makes for some interesting themes.
Only today, I witnessed something disturbing.
Sobs.
Yes, sobs - in gulps, in gurgles, in sniffs. Uncontrollable. Coming from inside of a pristinely white wash cubicle. I tried to pay attention to my hands. I was getting ready to go down for lunch. My friends were waiting outside. Please note, I have more male friends than female, so they do not have access to the washroom that I use. So we do follow the daily ritual of cleansing our hands in gender designated spaces before going down to eat. And I had got in to do just the same. I turned on the stainless steel tap in full force, so that the sound of the water would drown the one that was coming from inside, as I thought hard.
Should I wait for the person inside to come out and make an appearance? Not of course, because I want to identify the face for future gossip reference, but just in case she needed help. I washed my hands. Plucked a cleaning tissue from the Kimberley Clarke contraption on the wall, I wiped my hands clean and waited. I texted my lunch-mates to go ahead to the cafeteria, citing a toilet emergency as excuse. After a while, the sobs stopped. I heard the click of the door and looking at the mirror, caught sight of a red-eyed girl emerge. She was so engaged in her misery that she did not notice me staring at her reflection. She was still taking sharp short breaths, clearly in shock.
“Are you alright?” I asked.
“Yes, I am, thanks.” she said managing a weak smile. “I am sorry for being so silly.”
“No, you were not being silly. Just human. Do let me know if you need any help”
It is a strange but a common trait among women that you can suddenly open up to a stranger in a washroom. And so she did. She told me of a boyfriend. A guy who works as a software engineer.
“He is a good guy. Loves me a lot.” Her shy smile stretched her lips into a beautiful upward arch.
“I am sure he does.”
“He is just so possessive that I cannot talk with any other guy. I wore a tight pair of jeans yesterday and he was still lashing out at me for flaunting my legs to the public. And, oh yes, he doesn’t let me wear lipstick. He says, only whores wear lip colors. Whores, who get raped and very deservedly, he says. Of course, he has my best interest in mind. With so many rapes happening around, why attract further attention? So i don't blame him but I just got a little emotional in there.”
She said all that in one long breath, or so it seemed to me. Too quick in her beau’s defense.
I stood there. Motionless. Wordless.
I leaned on the basin pedestals for support.
I was looking at a victim.
Of what?
Domestic abuse?
Too much love?
Of best intentions gone sour?
What was I looking at? A fresh engineer out of college, who had dreams of setting up home with a man. Happiness and freedom. Comfort and respect?
But this man? Surely not?
I decided not to speak a word. I patted her back and said: “Things will work out, one way or the other. And oh yes, one more thing. Tell your boyfriend that whores are women with a profession just like you and I. They do not deserve to get raped.”
As I walked out to be met by a very worried looking crowd of my male colleagues, who demanded to know what was wrong with me or if I needed any medicine, I shook my head into a silent ‘no’. We marched toward the glass door.
For my friends, who are right now in an abusive relationship that apparently parades as a “caring” one, or are witnessing someone else go through this, I am posting a few links.
Please, please take a moment to read.
It is about making your own choice. Not letting anyone else make yours.
Be it a lipstick or a backless top.
Note: All images sourced from the internet.
-----------------------------------------------------
1. http://www.sheknows.com/love-and-sex/articles/1008571/8-signs-youre-in-a-dangerous-relationship
2. http://www.livestrong.com/article/101671-danger-signs-possessive-relationships/
3. http://www.womansavers.com/dangerous-men.asp
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