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For little girls, it is extremely important to tell the good from the bad and to raise hell even at the slightest hint. In patriarchal societies like India, a lot of effort must be made to take the shame out of the circle of the victim and plant it at the door of the accused.
Little girls must be told that danger lurks everywhere - from the closest of quarters to the farthest - from an oft-visiting Uncle, a favourite cousin to the School bus conductor, a teacher; further on to a passerby, a man met casually at a mall etc. etc.
From leaving lasting lessons imparted little by little in the course of a day to showing by example, Ma made sure I grew up with a steely spine. Ma and Dad brought us up in a way that one grew into a strong woman, able enough to protect her own rights, sensitive enough to what could be wrong for either sex, strong enough to chin up and give a good fight and sensitized to gender equality to the extent of giving space and respect to both men and women.
When I was very young, I must have sensed how Ma brought in barriers where required, sent out chaperones or stood guard herself or asked Dad to step in where the need arose. When I grew up to be six and seven and eight, she would tell me not to sit on laps of uncles if so invited. She explained to me the different types of hugs or hand-holding or shoulder patting or a peck on the cheek and so on.
Another time, I was in college in Doon. One fine morning I was taking Ma to the Sub Area Command to take care of an official task. The timing matched with that of the labour force that sets foot outside at that hour to seek work. We found a group of rowdy young labourers speed up with me on their bicycles while I zipped on my moped. One of them, the most villainous of the lot, brushed against Ma's legs as she sat pillion behind me, attempted to tease me wildly and gesture profanely. Ma told me to put the brakes in time to stop the erring lad too, caught him by his collar and gave him a resounding slap across his right cheek, then two. She then, in the sternest of her voice, reprimanded him and put the fear of God in him.
I marvel at how Ma dealt with all this, in her time. She put me in a co-educational school, made sure I had a healthy equation with the boys and girls, yet she was always guarded about how I could be exploited. Today I feel so deeply indebted to Ma for all this.
Years later, a similar scene played out with my niece at Dilli Haat. I made sure the lascivious lout who had touched her inappropriately was caught in public and that the niece got the satisfaction of delivering instance justice by slapping him as hard as she could.
My parents' lessons stood me in good stead even at my workplaces when faced with a male colleague who wanted to play dirty in office.
With little boys, one has to be more mindful and teach them lessons on two levels. The first that they cannot be perpetrators of such abuse and damage to women. That it is morally, principally and ethically wrong to take advantage of the other sex. Further on, it is unlawful and of criminal intent to engage in any foul practice towards women.
The second aspect is to teach the boys about the bad touch that they may face themselves. And we know that boys face it too. And that they may, due to social conditioning, find it even more difficult than women to open up and share their trauma.
Several schools these days are picking up on the "Good touch, Bad touch" initiative. But of course, like in most cases, the most important lessons are imparted at home.
Sow the right seeds. Make the soil conducive and fertile at home. Nurture the young plants such that they grow to be giant trees that will always give root to a healthy society.
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