The Guahati girl and the average Indian bloke

Sometime in late summer 2012, a girl was molested in the heart of Guahati - which is the capital city of the north-east Indian state of Assam. A viddy did the rounds - apparently there was a photojournalist nearby and he captured the entire shameful incident for posterity. Following the ground rules of the society of bloodsucking leeches, he did not stand up for the woman or do anything at all which would require testicular fortitude.

A couple of weeks later, and other news items have displaced this in the public consciousness: the Olympics, the Great Indian Load Shedding (contrary to what you may think, this has nothing to do with our national habit of mass defecation: this merely refers to the rolling blackouts that have plagued North India in late July, ya' know - population, summer, India, power thievery, a superannuated powergrid, yadda, yadda.) But I digress.

So, the Guahati incident. What are the things which we know?

1. Girl molested, video out there.
2. Cops and politicos say that she had been drinking and that she was not properly attired. Observe that such comments are now considered normal when such incidents happen. Such incidents are also quite normal. The video makes this one special.
3. Some people (NGOs?) capture stills of the faces of the offending men from said viddy and put them up all over the city of Guahati.
4. Furore.
5. Some arrests.

There is of course, much regretful shaking of heads and well, that is pretty much it. So let me try to articulate my feelings about this. GENTLEMEN AND LADIES, YA'ALL NEED TO GROW SOME BALLS.

Allow me to explain. Women are not chattel. They are not unpersons. You know what, forget it. This stuff is so basic that everyone should know this. It shames me to think of the many Indian blokes I know who have this deep rooted and sometimes quite well hidden hatred for girls. Eff-ed up, right? I mean, horny bastards on one side, future wife-beaters on the other. And all these fabulous medieval prejudices nicely coiffed up with an MBA (or a PhD, lets not discriminate) from some fancy school.

Takes a lot more guts to look a girl straight in the eye and risk your ego getting shot down. Much better trying to cop a feel as she tries to squeeze past in a crowded bus, amiright? And when its a (slight sloshed) girl dressed with (gasp) some leg showing, then (whee!) its like Diwali, Christmas and a winning lottery ticket rolled into one for our courageous Desi Boyz! C'mon ya'all, titty grabs an' everything - and we don't even have to pretend with flowers and chocolates. For shame, you sods. For shame.

I can't talk much sense into most Indian blokes. They have their heads shoved so very far up their own arseholes that they are deafened by the sound of their stomach gurgles. That is, they are not listening. So let me put this to the (unfortunate) women who will end up marrying my peers. Firstly, commiseration. Secondly, if you are to beget boy children, will you please, please try to bring them up to be decent men? To not be insecure douchetards who get their jollies from hurting women? Please, won't you try?