A woman’s reflection on safety and crime

On Sept 15, 6:08 pm, I was heading back home. A torrential downpour was imminent. I hurried to catch a bus to Narayantar. I spotted a bus that appeared to have empty seats from across the street. I rushed across the road near the Bouddha police station, using the zebra crossing. 

I boarded the bus just as the door shut, a chilling fear gripped my soul as I noticed only a few men inside, scattered throughout the bus. There were men of various ages, with the conductor seated at the front and some men in the front rows and others in the back. The door was already closed, and the bus began to move as the rain poured down. The only thought that haunted me was the terrifying and brutal 2012 Nirbhaya Delhi rape case. I was paralyzed, unable to move or react, so I took a seat by the door and opened my window wide. I saw men chatting and smiling, and once again, the horrific memories of 2024 Kolkata rape case of Moumita and Nirbhaya cases tormented me deeply. 

Should I exit the bus? I was torn, knowing I would get soaked mercilessly if I did. Then the conductor started closing all the windows one by one. The driver yelled from his seat to close them quickly to keep the water out. My heart raced uncontrollably. I steeled my heart and mind, gripping the window on my side, preparing myself defensively. I partially closed my window and kept my hand on the window lock, gazing outside the bus, hoping more people would board. I checked the door locks, counted the men inside, and held my bag tightly. 

I scrutinized the various faces of those men, feeling frozen and crippled inside, but I clenched my fists tightly, planning to jump out if things turned sour. Then a second thought crossed my mind: do any of these Nepali men possess humanity and morality? Or should I fear stepping outside in the evening, unlike in India? Such horrifying incidents like the Priyanka Reddy and Moumita cases in our neighboring country and the Nirmala case in our own have set a precedent that men wield ultimate power, and even the law, judiciary, and enforcement agencies can do little to punish these predators, demons, and vermin. They roam free, searching for their next victim. 

The rain began to ease, and some people boarded the bus, bringing a sigh of relief to my heart and soul. Thank God the men on this bus are not like those vermin outside as in the Nirbhaya case. I felt saved, thanking God and even those men for not having ill intentions toward a lone girl in the bus on this frightening evening. I expressed gratitude to my fellow countrymen, hoping they still possess some humanity. 

As my stop approached, I exited the bus, reflecting on the recent news of the sugar daddy case in Nepal, where a man posed as a sugar daddy, befriending young people in clubs, luring them, kidnapping them, and then torturing them in various psychotic ways. Drilling body parts, inserting needles, mutilating, and applying hot iron to the back. 

Just thinking about it sends chills down the spine. Why are people committing such maniacal acts nowadays? Is it due to extreme modernization or the unchecked content in the media, with the government seemingly indifferent? Each time the government changes, a new leader takes over the next morning to rule Nepal. Yet, despite the changes, no leader has taken steps to address these contemporary crimes, as we witnessed in the Nirmala Panta case. 

There are laws in place merely to show teeth to the public, demonstrating that the taxes paid by citizens are utilized on paper or perhaps in electronics nowadays. Thus, that evening's incident left me with many unanswered questions. That day, I represented the entire female youth of our nation, who harbor a constant fear of evolving crime types and a growing rage toward the leaders who claim to protect us. I would like to ask, who would protect me if I were a victim in such situations?