Somewhere Between Innocence and Awareness
I Wasn’t Born Careful. I Was Taught. There was a time when the world felt… simple . I remember walking into shops with my parents, distracted by colors, lights, random things I didn’t need but desperately wanted. I remember running around at family functions, not caring who was watching, because the idea that someone could be watching in a certain way didn’t even exist in my head. I remember wearing whatever I liked—not thinking about necklines, lengths, or “appropriateness.” Back then, being a girl didn’t feel like something I had to manage. It just… was. If one had asked me then, “What do you hate about being a woman in India?” I probably would’ve stared at them, confused. Maybe even laughed. Because what was there to hate? And then, slowly—quietly—that innocence started changing. Not all at once. Not in one big moment. But in fragments. It began with small things. The kind you don’t even realize are shaping you. A stare that lasted a little too long. A comment that didn’t sit...
