Uncomfortable T.O.U.C.H

For years, I (we, women) have been commuting in crowded buses, hopping into cabs, shopping in busy malls, visiting temples, and going with our daily lives. Hundreds of strangers, countless journeys, and never once I felt uncomfortable. I never gave a second thought to the people around/crowd me. But today, something was different.

I boarded the bus, settled near the window seat, and glanced at the empty seat next to me. After a few stops, a man sat beside me. At first, I didn’t think much of it. He seemed like any other commuter or stranger, lost in his phone, fingers scrolling through social media. 

But then,

Something didn’t feel right.

It looked subtle at first—the way he sat, just a little too close, the warmth of his body against mine. I shifted, but it didn’t help. He made his move again, and the closeness persisted. His elbow brushed against me repeatedly as he typed on his phone. My heart began to race, and questions flooded my mind.

Is he doing this on purpose? Or is he unaware? I wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. My mind was screaming that SOMETHING WAS NOT RIGHT!

I moved to the edge of my seat, hoping he would get the hint that I am uncomfortable. I kept my eyes forward, my face blank. But despite my efforts to distance myself, he was still so close. 

I didn’t want to raise my voice and make a scene, especially if he was simply unaware of what was going on. It was a sensitive issue, and the last thing I wanted was to make him feel guilty over something he might not have even realized.

Why is it that we, as women, often find ourselves in situations where we feel uncomfortable but don’t have the space to speak up? Why are we expected to suffer in silence, choosing discomfort to keep the peace?

But in that moment, I knew I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I had been sitting there for nearly thirty minutes, sweating, trying to pretend like I was not bothered. But then, as he tried to make another move, another touch — this time more deliberate — something inside me snapped. I turned to him, locked eyes, and gave him a look that spoke volumes. My gaze was sharp, cold, and it conveyed everything. 

Two things would happen at that moment: 

If he was intentional, he would back off. 

If he hadn’t realized what he was doing, he would be confused, unsure of why I was staring at him like I wanted to burn him with my eyes.

He flinched. Then, he shifted, moving a little further away from me. It was as if he feared I would scream and expose him.

That was the end of the uncomfortable situation. Or so I thought.

But as the bus continued its journey, I thought about the men in my life—friends, colleagues, partners—the one I trust, and how I longed to share this situation with them, to feel lighter. 

Yet, even if I had the courage to confront them, I knew deep down that I would be blamed. If I told them what happened, I already knew how they would respond: 

“You are overthinking it.”

“You could have just moved away from him.”

“Maybe you are just being sensitive.”

"Why did you even get into a crowded bus in the first place?"

Excuses, ignorance or worst of all, SILENCE. 

And then, I realized. This is the culture we live in. The victims — whether we are talking about uncomfortable situations, or just straight disrespect — We are made to feel like they are the ones at fault. We are often silenced, made to feel as though our discomfort isn’t valid. 

As I sat there, I realized that this isn’t just about one uncomfortable bus ride. It’s about the countless times women have felt unsafe, vulnerable, or disrespected, only to have their feelings invalidated. 

It’s the reality many of us face every single day - The discomfort, the fear, the hesitation...