Women’s Safety in India Should Be Beyond Politics

Indian women walking in front of a graffiti image

Recently, a slew of rape cases have emerged in Delhi. It made think – can we, collectively as women, demand better protection for Indian women from governments across the political spectrum?

Rape cases in Keralam (where I am from) are also increasing each year. This year, up to July, Kerala Police had recorded 1538 cases. Even little boys are being sexually assaulted.

But somehow, no one seems to take sexual violence seriously enough.

This is not a political game where we pull out data to show that only women in BJP-ruled states are getting raped, or that only women in Congress-ruled states are getting raped. Rape is a serious issue that needs to be addressed in India, regardless of which state it happens in or which political party is in power.

I’m sure there isn’t a single woman in India, even in Keralam, who hasn’t had some kind of bad experience.

And I’m not saying India is the only place where this happens. I have had bad experiences in other countries too, involving locals.

Change Should Happen Within Families First Before Society Adopts It

I think my most mind-numbing experience happened when I was 16 or 17 because it involved someone I considered my own brother.

I used to be very comfortable around him and quite physical in the innocent way you can be with someone you completely trust. I would hold his arm, playfully hit him and behave as I normally would around someone I considered family.

Until one day, he crossed a line and groped me.

I know the feeling of shock that goes through your mind when something like that happens. You can become completely paralysed for a moment because your brain simply cannot process what is happening.

But I somehow found the strength to push him away and get out of the situation.

After that experience, I became much more conscious about physical contact with men. I only touch someone if I feel completely comfortable around them. Otherwise, I instinctively recoil.

Another experience happened when I was learning to drive.

I remember the man teaching me repeatedly placing his hand on the steering wheel right next to my breast. At the time, I thought he was doing it accidentally. So I would simply place my hand there to prevent it from happening again.

Looking back now, I realise how naive I was. I instinctively believed that people were good and that there had to be an innocent explanation for their behaviour.

And that’s the thing about sexual harassment and sexual assault. Sometimes these experiences don’t happen with strangers. They happen with people we know. People we trust. And sometimes, even people we never imagined we would have to protect ourselves from.

Women’s Safety Cannot Be a Political Game

Ideally, I would love to see women in every state demand better protection from both the central and state governments. This is something I feel very intensely about.

There are already stringent laws against rape in India. But having laws on paper is not enough. Their implementation remains a problem in many places.

The central and state governments need to work together to ensure that existing laws are properly enforced and that survivors have access to justice and protection.

Unfortunately, sexual violence has also become another opportunity for governments and political parties to blame each other in India.

But what does that achieve for women?

How does it make a woman feel safer?

And how do we prevent sexual violence when there are still people who believe that a woman’s body is somehow their property?

Sex Education Is Part of the Conversation

Society also needs to change, and one way to start is through proper sex education.

Yet even parents in my age group sometimes respond with, “Cheee, little kids don’t need to know all that,” whenever sex education is mentioned.

Many people seem to think sex education means teaching children “how to have sex” or something. I’m not joking.

But age-appropriate sex education is also about teaching children about boundaries, consent, inappropriate touching, body safety and the fact that they have the right to say no.

If we struggle to have these conversations among relatively educated urban families, imagine how difficult it must be to introduce them in more conservative or rural communities.

This is exactly why conversations about sexual abuse and women’s safety in India cannot be limited to one political party, one government or one election.

Change is needed from so many different sides if we genuinely want to reduce rape and sexual violence in India.

It’s not easy. But it should be done.

Delhi’s Reputation for Women’s Safety

Delhi also has a very bad reputation when it comes to women’s safety, regardless of which government is in power.

There seems to be a sense of status quo around it, both among some people and within the political system: “It’s unsafe, and it will remain unsafe.” If that attitude didn’t exist, wouldn’t there be a much stronger public reaction every time a rape case occurred?

I was recently watching a YouTube video of a Nepali woman visiting Delhi. The comments were overwhelmingly along the lines of, “Be careful, Delhi is not safe,” instead of simply saying, “Enjoy your trip.”

That is a shame for India as a whole. Shaming one place in India is, in a way, equivalent to shaming the whole country for me. I have never once thought, “Oh, she should visit Keralam instead because it’s safer.” Instead, I feel bad that anyone visiting India might have to worry about their safety in the first place. I want India as a whole to be safe.

Even Justice Becomes Political

There is another problem.

Even when someone is found guilty and strict punishment is imposed, activists and people from Opposition parties often come forward questioning the evidence or saying, “There’s no proof.”

Then the government, whoever is in power, ends up caught in another political battle.

And when everything becomes a political fight, governments become reluctant to act decisively because there is no obvious political “win.”

This is precisely why the Centre and the states should work together on women’s safety and tackling sexual violence.

Let the critics say whatever they want.

Let political parties argue about everything else.

Some things are bigger than politics.

The safety of women and children should be one of them.

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Photo by Shiva Kumar Reddy

If You Were Locked in a Room with 10 Men for 10 Days

I came across this post on Reddit recently. It immediately made me think about my own experiences.

At the end of the day, it really comes down to energy, doesn’t it?

When I was in the North East, and it started snowing heavily, I stepped into a small shed with a heater. The shed was full of North Eastern men, including my guide. I was the only woman there at that moment.

And yet, I did not feel unsafe even for a second.

That moment stayed with me because it showed me something important about how we perceive safety while traveling or being around strangers.

Now imagine a similar situation somewhere else in India. There are some men I know personally, even a few colleagues, with whom I would feel uncomfortable being stuck in a small space. Not because they have ever done anything that could be complained about. Nothing like that. But the energy they give off simply does not make me feel comfortable.

Safety often has less to do with whether we know someone and more to do with the vibes they give off and whether we are comfortable with those vibes.

Many women will relate to this. We tend to have strong instincts when it comes to unsafe environments. Research often suggests that these instincts developed over time as part of human evolution. Women had to learn to read subtle cues in order to stay safe.

That is why sometimes we feel calm around complete strangers, while at other times we feel uneasy around people we already know.

If women were allowed to choose the people they would spend those 10 days locked up with, most of us would probably make the right call about who we feel safe around.

The real problem arises when that choice is taken away from us, and the men we are to be locked up with, whether known or unknown, are chosen by someone else. When that happens, the chances of discomfort or even unsafe situations naturally increase.

For me, that snowy day in the North East was a reminder that safety is not always about familiarity. Sometimes it is simply about the energy people carry, and the signals our instincts quietly pick up.

Haq: When a Film About Muslim Women Speaks to All Women

For the most part, Haq is not a story only about Muslim women. It is a story about women in general. Almost all of us know someone, married or unmarried, who has been cheated in love. We have seen that heartbreak up close, and we understand the emotional toll it takes.

When Shazia feels betrayed, we feel it too. When she wants the best for her children, that emotion feels familiar. When she fights for her rights, it resonates deeply. And when her father stands by her without hesitation, it reminds us of our own fathers and the quiet strength that support brings. These are emotions that are universal to women, cutting across religion, culture, and background.

The narrative becomes specifically about Muslim women only when the legal issues come into focus. That is where the real differences emerge, and the film clearly highlights how laws and systems can shape a woman’s fight for justice. It is to be noted that soon after the Triple Talaq ban was implemented in India, many Muslim women began approaching the courts to seek justice. While there was no open praise for the current government for such a ban, there was a quiet acceptance of the relief and protection the law offered them in real life. Many Muslim men, however, continue to view the ban as an insult to their faith rather than as a legal safeguard for women.

Getting back to the movie, Yami’s final monologue is powerful and leaves a strong impact. Emraan feels completely natural throughout and never once seems like he is performing. Sheeba Chaddha is equally convincing and brings depth to her role.

I especially want to credit Emraan for choosing to act in a film that openly talks about Muslim women’s rights. It takes conviction to support a story like this, especially as a Muslim, without dismissing it as Islamophobic. The film is clearly not that. Instead, it focuses on real issues and lived experiences, and his decision to back the narrative adds credibility and strength to the message being told.

Overall, I liked the film. The background music could have been better, and Yami is not fully convincing in a few scenes. Still, she more than makes up for it in the final act, which stays with you long after the film ends.

Haq is now streaming on Netflix.

An Ode to Feminichi Fathima

Feminichi Fathima is a Malayalam movie I had been waiting to watch for a long time. The film received strong appreciation at several film festivals. Many critics also spoke highly of it in their reviews. Now that it has finally released on OTT, the wait feels worth it. After watching the film, I can say it truly lives up to the praise it received.

The movie is a bold and thoughtful effort by director Fasil Muhammed to explore feminism from the perspective of a Muslim woman. This is a refreshing shift in Indian cinema, where feminist narratives are often shown through a cultural Hindu lens. Films like The Great Indian Kitchen (Mrs. in Hindi) and Thappad shaped much of that earlier conversation. Against that backdrop, this film feels timely and necessary. It adds a new voice to discussions on gender, faith, and everyday patriarchy.

What’s It About?

Fathima is married into a conservative and deeply religious family in the Malappuram district in Kerala. Her husband is a usthad (a religious leader) who expects his household to follow every rule without question. Life in the home is seen only through a strict, conservative lens.

Trouble begins when their young son wets the mattress. Fathima cleans it and leaves it outside to dry, but a dog later urinates on it. Since dogs are viewed as ritually impure, her husband reacts with anger and disgust. What follows is Fathima’s quiet struggle to fix the situation, facing resistance at every step.

The film makes a strong point that a woman in religious clothing can also be a feminichi (a slur often used by Malayalee misogynists to dismiss feminists).

Thoughts

Shamla Hamza and Kumar Sunil deliver standout performances. Shamla Hamza, in particular, is remarkable throughout the movie. It is hard to believe this is only her second project, after 1001 Nunakal, released in 2022. She performs with the ease and control of a seasoned actor. Her expressions carry much of the film’s emotional weight. Shamla winning the Kerala State Film Award for Best Actress feels well deserved. The storyline is fresh and quietly rebellious, which makes her performance even more powerful.

In many ways, the film feels braver than other feminist movies. Dissent is rarely encouraged in conservative Muslim families, which makes this narrative more powerful. The story shows how questioning norms itself becomes an act of courage. That is what sets this Malayalam feminist film apart. It opens space for conversations that are often silenced. Ideally, it will inspire more Feminichi Fathimas to speak up and stand for their rights.

Even though the subject is heavy, the movie never becomes overwhelming. It avoids melodrama and keeps emotions grounded. Light comedy is woven into the narrative. This balance makes the film feel surprisingly breezy. The pacing is tight and engaging throughout. You can easily watch the full 1.5 hours in one sitting without needing a break.

I would call this movie a must-watch for anyone interested in meaningful Malayalam cinema. Feminichi Fathima is now streaming on Manorama Max. You can also watch it via Amazon Prime with a Manorama Max subscription. English subtitles are available.

Short Film Spotlight: Anuja

I was craving to watch a slice-of-life drama. Something simple, not too heavy or filled with dread. I honestly thought Anuja would be intense, given how the synopsis sounded. Plus, it’s a Hindi short film that was an Academy Award nominee.

Now, why would I mention the Academy Award nomination like it’s a bad thing? I have my reasons.

To be honest, Oscar nominees have rarely worked for me. In Malayalam, we call such films “award padam.” The kind that feels too abstract or complex for ordinary viewers (like yours truly). There was a time in my life, long ago, when I pretended to enjoy such films just to seem intellectual in front of my then-partner. But I couldn’t keep up the act, and that image fell apart the moment that relationship ended. Now, it seems I’m making up for that lost time. All I want to watch are feel-good films.

So when I saw that Anuja was an Oscar nominee, it didn’t excite me enough to hit play right away. It actually made me hesitate. After all, the Oscars have a reputation for picking Indian films that focus on pain and poverty, what many call “poverty porn,” which does not fully represent what India is today.

Still, I decided to give it a chance.

What’s It About?

A 9-year-old girl works with her sister in a garment factory in India. Despite being naturally bright and curious, she doesn’t attend school because of financial struggles. And, truthfully, she doesn’t want to either. Her elder sister, however, recognizes her potential and dreams of giving her the education she deserves.

Thoughts

The film was a pleasant surprise. I loved it. It was just 22 minutes, but packed with emotions.

It tells the story of child labourers. They are presented not as helpless victims, but as resilient children who find joy even in hardship. The truth is, we often see others through our own lens and may view them as “helpless.” But for them, this is simply life. They know no other kind of life, and they’re doing their best with what they have. That’s what the movie captures so beautifully — life as they see it, not as we do.

It’s a social hierarchy. Someone wealthier might be looking at me with pity, thinking I’m suffering. Yet I’m making the most of what I have, because that’s the life I know. We suffer mostly when we lose something we once had, when we can compare the before and after, and we truly miss the before.

I’ve often felt that those not well-off often make the best of what little they have, which is why they find happiness in the smallest things, like a bag of jalebi, for instance. Anuja captures that spirit beautifully: “The present may not be bright, but we can strive for a better tomorrow.”

The film avoids moral preaching or lecturing. It’s simply about two sisters supporting each other in a harsh world.

The most moving part of the film is that Sajda Pathan, who plays Anuja, was once a child labourer in Delhi before being rescued by the Salaam Baalak Trust (SBT). She now lives at the NGO’s Day Care Center, founded in 1988 by filmmaker Mira Nair, who, interestingly, is also the mother of New York’s new Mayor, Zohran Mamdani.

Ananya Shanbhag also delivers an excellent performance as the elder sister, Palak.

I would definitely recommend the short film. Anuja is streaming on Netflix.

An Ode to Seeking Justice By Exercising Your Power to Vote

In Kerala, recently, CPM faced a sharp setback. A state known to be deeply faithful to its comrades turned its back on the communist party in the Lok Sabha Elections. CPM could secure only one seat. This was a big shocker for the party when the results were announced. It wasn’t for the people, however. The grievances were such.

What went wrong? Plenty. Fund mismanagement, corruption, hooliganism, dictatorial tendencies, lack of acknowledgment of mistakes, farmer deaths, pension delays, etc. The list seems endless. A sort of arrogance had crept in after CPM’s second consecutive term. It was reflected in their attitude towards commoners and overall leadership. People started catching on to their lies and false promises.

How did Malayalees react? Through their votes. CPM could secure only one seat in Kerala in the recent Lok Sabha Elections 2024, facing an overall 2-4% dip in vote share. They suffered a severe blow even in their strongholds like Kasaragod, Kannur, Vadakara, and Palakkad.

Kerala is a prime example of how to get your revenge against political parties if they fail to meet your standards. No freebies were promised in the state, so the votes were cast purely on the basis of the political party’s performance.

The only way a common man in India can express his disappointment towards political parties is through his votes. Yet, Indians do not show up when the time comes. Excuses pop up, “We have work,” “We don’t want to travel,” “What’s going to happen, anyway?” Due to this, the parties that were a disappointment continue to be in power.

The point I am trying to make is concerning West Bengal. The government had already shown its true colors before the election. They tried to cover up the Sandeshkali rapes and protected the party member from arrest. Police officers were attacked when they went to arrest the party member. Hooliganism was its max. Everyone witnessed it. Yet, the party won again.

Someone said if an election were to be held tomorrow in West Bengal, TMC would again win. This is unfortunate. In such cases, is the government alone to blame? Aren’t we the citizens enabling such a behavior, too? TMC’s supporters turned up en masse to save and vote for the party while the others relaxed at home in the sweltering heat. There was post-poll violence in the state because TMC members were furious they did not secure enough votes as before. Yet, somehow, we refused to acknowledge what we saw. We continued to believe the words of the party who was placing the blame on everyone else except itself. We celebrated the “saving” of democracy, unaware that the party we voted for was no better.

Indians are expressing their anger on social media and the streets now, but they forget they can do it the Kerala way too. When the time comes, hit where it hurts – through your votes. This is the only way to get a political party to introspect and correct themselves. It is a powerful tool. Use it.

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Photo Courtesy: PTI Photo/Swapan Mahapatra