TRAVEL MEMOIR

I Threatened to Kick a Guy in the Balls on an Indian Train While My Man Said Nothing

And little me intimidated more people than just the man in question

As a solo female traveller, I have had to learn a thing or two about defending myself from harassment or worse.

Being alone as a petite western woman outside of my own culture hasn’t always been easy, and developing a “tough” side seemed to be essential to survive. Though it has to be said that I haven’t actually had to use it that much.

Which is why it was even more surprising that I found myself threatening a man on a train when I wasn’t even alone but travelling with a martial arts expert for a boyfriend.

India can be a challenging place for women to travel. Getting groped in passing isn’t fun. Having my bum pinched on a crowded train platform was insulting. Having a taxi driver reach out to touch my boob had me spitting with rage.

But, in all honesty, I don’t think I suffered half as much as the men I have travelled with, on occasions. For some reason, the behaviour of these idiot men we encountered seemed to have a far worse effect on them.

With this particular boyfriend, T, it got so bad that he really seemed to be losing the plot, and I was concerned that he wasn’t going to cope with our planned stay for the next several weeks.

For New Year, we had headed to the island of Diu, off the coast of Gujarat.

Goodness only knows why we thought it would be a good place to spend New Year. I think we only thought about beautiful beaches, not everything else that the island offered.

Let’s see… It was a popular tourist destination for Indians. It had easy access from mainland Gujarat and plenty of accommodation. Oh, and alcohol was allowed on the island since it is officially in the state of Maharashtra. Not Gujarat, which happens to be a dry state, i.e. no alcohol is available or allowed.

Combine that with New Year holiday season and you get a load of drunk Indian men riding around the island on motorbikes, or sitting on benches overlooking beaches where western women wear bikinis, holding a pair of binoculars to their eyes.

“Just birdwatching.”

And there was nowhere to go to escape them.

T got so wound up by them that his fraught state of mind was starting to really get to me too. So I suggested that we travel back to Delhi together so I could get him on a plane home (and have some peace with which to enjoy my weeks in India). But he had another idea.

“Just get me to Pushkar and I will be fine,” he said.

I hesitated. I wasn’t sure if I believed him. Plus, I wasn’t sure I could cope with him losing it for another twenty-four hours while we travelled there, only to have to potentially put up with more tension once we arrived.

But I made a decision.

“Okay,” I said. “I will agree to that but on one condition. That you speak to no one for the duration of our journey. Keep your trap shut. Hold your tongue and let me deal with people.”

And he agreed.

He kept his promise, too.

After an initial journey in 3rd class, we changed trains and found seats in an unreserved carriage. We were surprised that there were seats available since there were plenty of people standing, but we didn’t question anything and sat down.

Ten minutes later, a bunch of men came down the carriage, demanding money for the seats. They weren’t wearing any kind of uniform and certainly didn’t look like they were official train representatives so I concluded that they were opportunists using threats and intimidation to bribe people to pay them for the privilege of sitting down.

Well, I wasn’t paying anyone for a non-reservation in an unreserved carriage, and I made it clear to the gang leader. He didn’t speak English but “no” is a simple thing to communicate across language barriers. T, meanwhile, kept nice and quiet, like the well-behaved boyfriend he was.

Still the man asked for money and I repeated my answer again and again.

He wouldn’t go away. I tried to ignore him but he just poked me in the shoulder, gabbled at me in Gujarati, and then held out his hand in front of my face for 50 rupees or whatever was the price he was asking.

There’s only so much of this a girl can be expected to put up with before it’s time to put a lid on it. Initially, however, I wasn’t sure how to make him shut up and leave me alone..

And then I remembered my chunky Doctor Marten boots.

My chunky Doctor Marten boots with the rock-hard steel toecaps.

And they just happened to be on my feet at that moment.

And so, the next time he started poking me and demanding money, I turned to face him, lifted my foot up, gave the toecap a nice, hard knock so that he could see — and hear — how hard it was, and then pointed from there towards his balls with a menacing and determined look in my eyes.

And that was the last we saw of that group of men.

In that carriage, there was a family sitting opposite us. The wife couldn’t take her eyes off of us and kept looking from me to T and then back again.

It really must have looked quite odd that he wasn’t saying a word while I was threatening men with violence, and she appeared to be trying to comprehend the situation.

My behaviour was also a very unladylike way for any woman to behave by Indian standards, so she appeared to be somewhat intimidated by me. For the first hour or so of our journey, she avoided my gaze and tried not to engage in conversation.

However, we had six hours or so on this train with her and so, eventually, she relented. Realising I actually wasn’t actually the Hindu warrior goddess Kali come to slay evil men and that there was no need to be frightened of me, she eventually smiled and began chatting.

Soon enough, as seemed to be the norm on trains in India, the husband and wife were pulling out their packed meals and snacks and offered us a little of everything. They are very kind and generous people.

I even, eventually, allowed T to speak on that leg of the journey since they were such lovely people and there was nothing to get wound up by.

We did, finally, make it to Pushkar with our sanity intact and we had a very enjoyable month there. T survived with no further issues and even lightened up a fair bit.

But I can’t help but wonder how long that poor woman spent pondering on our strange and unusual balance of power.

Here are a couple of other stories from that time:

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