On a scorching summer afternoon, I was boarding a bus from my college, heading to another city for some work. The sun was blazing, and the temperature was soaring to around 40°C. It felt like one of those days where you could almost see the heat waves dancing on the road.
As usual, I bought my ticket and, by some stroke of luck, found myself a seat. In a crowded public bus, especially in the daytime, getting a seat is like finding a treasure. I suppose the oppressive heat had driven away enough passengers to make this small miracle possible. I placed my bags on the overhead rack, settled into my seat, and put on my headphones, letting the familiar tunes of Bollywood music take me away.
The bus had many stops along the way, and with each stop, some passengers got off while others got on. It wasn’t long before I noticed that the bus was mostly filled with men. I didn’t think much of it at first, but then, at one of the stops, a young woman in her early twenties boarded the bus. As she stepped in, something changed.
In public transport, it's common for passengers to glance at new arrivals, a brief look to acknowledge their presence. But this was different. The moment she boarded, I realized that nearly every pair of eyes in that male-dominated bus was fixed on her. It wasn’t just a casual glance; it was a collective, uncomfortable stare. She seemed to feel it too.
She hesitated, her eyes darting around the bus, as if searching for a safe place to land. The weight of those stares seemed to press down on her, making her visibly uncomfortable. She clutched her luggage tightly and hurried to her seat, her gaze firmly fixed on the ground. She didn’t dare lift her eyes to meet anyone else’s. I could sense her discomfort, almost as if it was something tangible in the air.
That day, I learned an important lesson about the difference between seeing someone and staring at them. Imagine being in her shoes, boarding a bus full of strangers, only to find all of them staring at you. You’ve done nothing wrong, yet you’re suddenly self-conscious, wondering if there’s something wrong with your clothes or if there’s something on your face. You feel exposed, vulnerable.
She wasn’t just shy; she was made to feel small, underconfident. The way those men looked at her wasn’t just a harmless glance—it was something that stripped away her comfort and dignity. It made her lower her head, unable to walk with the confidence she deserved.
This experience made me reflect on our society. Why do we, knowingly or unknowingly, make someone feel so uncomfortable just by the way we look at them? There is a world of difference between a casual glance and a stare that makes someone feel less. We wouldn’t want our loved ones to feel that way, so why do we do it to others?
Let’s change this attitude. Let’s see everyone with the same respect and not make anyone feel bad about their physical appearance. Let’s learn to look, not stare, and let’s ensure that no one has to walk with their head down because of us. Change yourself, and you change the world, one small action at a time.