CW: mentions of street harassment
Keep Walking By Anannya Musale | Graphics by Mia Dugandzic
Cloudy afternoons, busy streets, Gloomy skies with a hint of drizzle. Distracted from my study, I stared out the window as if it were a puzzle. ‘Maybe I deserve a break,‘ I said Ducking out of the window, I tasted the puzzle with my head. It was a puzzle even as I closed my eyes. Tiny droplets felt like a mischief in disguise. They trickled down my cheeks, I could feel them race Soon they began to tickle me, and I tried to brush them off my face. I opened my drenched eyelids only to watch The light drizzle now pouring into seas. I moved away from the window, letting out a sneeze. ‘Close the window, you’ll catch a cold,‘ Said my grandma with a cup of hot tea in her hold. ‘You know what these showers remind me of?’ She began to ponder. Excitedly, I leaned in, Only to hear the thunder. ‘We were walking to school, my friend and I, And it rained the same, it rained the same, As we walked along that lonely lane. I suddenly felt a jerk, as if someone had pulled my hair, And I turned around to a see a grown man, Acting as if it was only fair. I freed myself from his clutches, Ran away with my friend. Realising he didn’t follow, we reached a dead end. Looking back, we laughed and we cried; this became a famous tale. We told everyone our little experience with the rain and hail.’ Grandma left me wondering how a shower so rough and so violent Could be dismissed and made silent. I thought to myself, I have nothing to fear, The rain won’t be so cruel to me, It won’t make me shed a tear. I also walked along a lane, although now a memory lane. I was little, I was scared, I was small and golden haired. A similar gentleman tried to ‘brush’ his hands past my knees, Giving me a smile, with utmost ease. I kept walking and caught up with my mother, He didn’t seem to follow; he didn’t want to bother. Then, too, it rained the same, It rained the same with a hint of thunder.
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