Like many intelligent, confident women who will probably die alone surrounded by (jungle) cats, I maintain an extensive personal list of Men Whom I Would Like to Castrate.
Wait, don't run away! At least give me a chance to explain! (No? Okay, fine. Your loss.)
Since I've arrived in Delhi, this list has swollen exponentially, and perhaps (I'll admit) unfairly. For example. Not all men who unzip their pants to take a piss wherever they please, including streets, doorways and the grounds of the Taj Mahal, deserve to be on the List. Some of them might have families.
Also, not all men who spit in public places, including in bubbly delight right in the spot where I unthinkingly stepped, deserve to be on the List.
Probably not all men who "accidentally" murmur indecent things while walking too close to me on a rainy day deserve to be on the List.
Some of the guys who decide to pilot their overloaded, three-to-a-seat motorbikes right beside me on an otherwise empty road: maybe one day I'll remove them from the List.
Even that corrupt cop who laughed in my face when I told him that a strange naked man was chasing young women through the forest, while masturbating, might not deserve to be on the List.
The ignorant men who came up to my blonde, 16-year-old guest at the Taj Mahal and kept harassing her to take "just one picture" with them to send to their friends in the village, well, they couldn't even read the List, so it seems a bit unfair to put them on it.
But I will not compromise on one category of Listees: the public gropers. All of us, men and women alike, should join in the quest to castrate them and make the world a better place.
I have not been witness or party to these unwelcome events, but apparently they are common. Here's a bit of advice for young foreign women in India, who are often preyed upon by fly-by gropers. Don't waste valuable time staring in dumbstruck shock, feeling lingering traces of caveman guilt, trying to find the right words or pretending it may have been an accident. Go for the groin. Ideally with a knife.
If unarmed, scream and shout. Enlist the aid of passers-by. Some of them might be able to throw stones, others boiling oil. Mount a Crusades-worthy defense of your person, engage in Bond-esque market chases. Bawl and wail. "Groper! Groper!" It doesn't matter if people don't understand the exact words, they will catch the spirit. Some of them might even join your cause. Others might report you to the police. Either way, you can't lose.
But for God's sake, don't take pity on these men and de-List them. Don't blame yourself. Don't sit back. Make a fuss - that's how Indian girls do it. They fight for their rights, even if means their mortal remains will one day be savaged by the jungle cats that roam their self-imposed wilderness exile.
A mere whisper of a postscript, for those who have stuck around for the alarming entirety of this post: The vast majority of Delhi's men seem to be nice and law-abiding people. This post is obviously not about them.
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