The Memoirs of this Lamentable Mohila.

Mohila

Means Lady. Woman. Female.

I have been addressed as that quite a few times when I was around seventeen. Old and matured at my age, I somehow felt incredibly hurt when some men's eyes would slither all over me and then there would be the deliberate "brushing" against my body... even my forearms were erogenous zones. I hated the way they would comment on my newly and fully developed breasts, my bigger than average buttocks, and my ungainly looks.

"Mohilar jinis achhe guru... Mukh jodio dhuchunir moto..." (the Lady has Stuff to show, though her face looks like shit)

I would cringe sometimes. Sometimes I would try to put up an impassive face to show that they could not hurt me. Sometimes I would glare.

Tales of ineffectuality, that.

Yesterday, I'd just come back from a drive and my best friend had dropped me home. The cell phone's cash charge suddenly diminished to almost nothing, and panicking, I ran to the nearest shop. When I was returning, I found two men starting to comment.

"Jinis mama, jinis. Dekhechis?" (Stuff man, stuff. You See?)

"Dekhechi to dekhechi to.." (I see, I see!)

Comments went on. I was walking. Normal pace. No strange kung-fu stance, or anything. Inside, my body was burning up. I was seeing red as they continued to make comments like this for more than ten minutes. Finally, I decided to put a stop to this.

HALT! PAUSE! TURN!

I looked at two men. One was twenty. The other was younger.

They paused too.

Flash went my camera. Broad street. People passing by. They stared at me in disbelief as I lowered the camera phone.

"Ar ekta kotha bolle ei chhobita niye thanay jaabo ami. Nyakami hochhe?" (One more word and I go to the police with this picture. WTF?)

They begin to say something but I turned away.

I had no other options. Was what I did right? Was it?

All I could feel was my red blood boiling. And the problem was, my stupid camera phone was unable to process the request because of the light.