Ritambhara Dhungana
Throughout my childhood, I longed to be a grown-up person. Now that I am in my teens, I consider myself grown-up enough to roam around freely in my city.
After SEE, I started going out alone more often. Before that, somebody would always pick me up, drop me off, and guide me. I never had to worry about the roads, the crowds, or the chaos. I thought that once I got my “freedom,” everything would feel lighter and more exciting. Throughout my childhood, I had been longing for “freedom”, the mere thought of which filled my heart with a feeling of empowerment.
The harsh truth is, in reality, it felt nothing like that.
I finally realized how busy Kathmandu is; not just with vehicles and people, but with pressure, tension, and fear. The city doesn’t slow down for anyone, especially not for a dependent girl like me.
I have reached a point of realization that freedom doesn’t always feel like freedom. Sometimes, it feels like fear. Let’s embark on my journey to this realization.
It was a gloomy day. I was walking home alone after my coaching classes. The weather had been unable to impart even a bit of its shade to my heart. I was cheerfully walking on the otherwise silent pavement when I heard somebody calling me from behind. Unable to fathom anything sinister, I turned around. The man approaching me from behind began asking me where I was heading. Since I did not know him, I thought it better not to answer him and increased my pace. But he kept following me. My heart was racing. I crossed to the other side of the street. So did he! Then, my patience started giving up. I thought of following a different road away from the one I had to take. After about fifteen minutes of being followed, I entered a crowded grocery store and remained there for what seemed to be ages. The man was seen in front of the store for a considerable time before he left. I am unsure of his intent. However, the chase was scary enough to get etched in my heart.
Phew! So much for freedom!
Since then, I have started checking behind me every few minutes. I plan my outfits around whether they will be comfortable enough for a run, if needed. I avoid empty sidewalks and pick routes with lots of people, even if they take longer. Despite all, I never really feel safe.
I vividly recall yet another case. I was waiting for a bus to my home at the bus stop. The road traffic was mismanaged due to an ongoing demonstration in another part of the city. After a long, unsuccessful wait, I hopped around the place in search of a vehicle. During my search, I had deviated significantly from my usual route. As a result, I was trapped in a complete disorientation. A stranger helped me find my way, but then he started asking personal questions that made me uncomfortable. He began asking for my contact number and pleaded with me to maintain further acquaintance. Even when someone tries to help, it does not always feel safe; sometimes I wonder if I am just alone in this. It feels like the whole world is against me.
During my journey of exploration, I have never been able to gain a sense of achievement or confidence of any sort. I’ve been followed, called names, and mocked when I chose not to respond. I’ve had to pretend to talk to my “dad” on the phone, just so that someone would think twice before doing something worse. I’ve felt my heart pound at the sound of footsteps behind me. I’ve held my breath, mustering up courage until I reached home.
Going through this day-to-day dread is again complemented by a busy road with swarming motorbikes, tightly packed public vehicles, the absence of traffic lights, and almost non-existent road signage such as zebra crossings.
Traveling is a nightmare almost every day. Public tempos fill up in minutes, even when they are empty at first. I get packed in so tightly between strangers that I can’t even see outside. The heat, the noise, the pushing; all of it crushes me. On days with strikes, sometimes there are no vehicles at all; I am left stranded, exhausted, and scared, with no way to get where I need to go. When I take a Pathao bike, I have to sit on the very edge and hold on tight because I need to be careful enough, otherwise it might cause problems. Even in that tiny space, I don’t feel safe. But, in any case, this should never be the notion of “freedom”.
I don’t want to be that child who clings to someone’s hand everywhere she goes; but honestly, I don’t want this kind of “independence” either; especially the kind where I have to walk alone in a world that feels unsafe, where I have to shrink myself merely to survive and never feel free. All I want is to feel safe, but that seems impossible. It feels like walking on broken glass. I carry fear quietly because apparently, this happens to everyone. I’m tired. I’m scared.
And here’s the thing no one likes to admit: it’s exhausting. It is not just about the fear, but the fact that the fear is NORMAL is very disheartening. It is very well perceived that I’m supposed to be careful, instead of asking why the world isn’t safer for girls like me.
I want to walk under the stars without feeling like I’m inviting danger. I want to run in ecstasy, not always listening for footsteps.
But for now, it does. Freedom feels like fear, almost akin to shrinking myself to stay safe. I hope one day it won’t. I hope we’ll build a world where girls can walk free, not just be brave and daring.
Until then, I keep walking. Because my fear doesn’t mean I’m weak. It means I’ve learned how to survive. But I dream of more than survival. I dream of real freedom.
