Are Anjali and Ankita the cautionary tales of 'Ghar Waapsi' keeping Indian women out of the workforce?

In case you missed what I think is one of the best web series that came out of India in 2022, _Ghar Waapsi_ ––a nuanced and endearing show that’s at once soothing and enlightening––do watch it. It’s not unlike the story of many young people who leave their hometowns for greener pastures only to find that family is where the heart belongs. I remember leaving my incredibly well-paying job in Switzerland at the age of 25 and returning to Mumbai, because I missed my family and friends. This was much to the horror of the uncle’s and aunty’s whose judgement of me was derailed only because of my brother’s concurrent decision to become a stand-up comedian, whereby the trial-by-society directed their ire onto my parents who had raised such ‘deviant’ children shunning foreign salaries and becoming ‘stand-by comedians’. Leaving a regular paycheck to return home is one thing, but what justifies 25% of Indian women dropping out of the workforce? Do the blood-curling stories in the news have anything to do with it? Every day we hear of young working girls like Anjali Singh , who was mowed down last week after work by five drunken men, her body dragged for 12 kms until even her brain matter couldn’t be found. Or Shraddha whose body was chopped into 35 pieces by her live-in partner Aftab Poonawalla. Or the recent case of 19-year-old Ankita who was murdered in a resort in Rishikesh by the owner Pulkit Arya for refusing to indulge in prostitution as part of her job. The most brutal of brutal crimes in the rarest of rare cases, and the one thread they have in common––young working women. Sorry, young working vulnerable women, some of whom were the sole breadwinners of their family. Look around and ask any woman in India. We women have spent every second of our lives trying not to get raped, molested and killed by the men around us. Fear is our constant companion if we are out after dark, out on the roads, out of our homes, and especially out of our hometowns. And it’s not just the fault of the perpetrators, but also the fault of the judiciary, the police, the politicians, and the parents who raise their sons badly. The only reason why Anjali, Shraddha and Ankita are dead and we aren’t is due to luck. That’s it! That’s the only thing keeping us safe so far. Not the law, not the police, not society, and definitely not humanity, or the lack thereof, that this country seems to suffer from when it comes to women’s safety. What is the narrative being spun for working women in India? These are the women thrown off cliffs, mowed down and dragged under cars, chopped into pieces, raped, mutilated, and brutalised. Why? Because they went to work. Not only are these young women becoming cautionary tales with parents and in-laws using their example as an excuse to not ‘allow’ their daughters and daughter-in-laws to go to work, but they’re also classic tales of women being seen only in binaries. Women seen as dayins i.e. women with their own bank account and identity, who once they pay the price with their life, are immediately hailed as devis. But we women don’t want to be your devi or your dayin, we don’t want to be reduced to a mere statistic of horrific work environments for women, another number adding to the dwindling female workforce. We want to be normal empowered women who can go to work and contribute to the economy without paying a price for it. Paid work is supposed to present new avenues for women and increase our representation, not amplify sordid inequalities. The victim shaming of these girls is also another real shame. Even if claims that Anjali was drinking and partying are true, does that mean she deserves to be dragged underneath a car for an hour by monsters? Even if Shraddha didn’t leave her abuser in the name of love, does she deserve to have her body strangled, mutilated, and sawed? This build-up of a perfect prototype for victims must stop if we want true justice. Ergo: Instead of giving women moral science lessons, give men these same lessons. Instead of teaching women to fear the dark, teach men to fear the system. Instead of shaming victims, shame the bloody perps! All I’ll say is––ladies, let’s not be afraid. Let’s not be afraid of chasing our dreams, going to work, stepping out after dark, or occupying public spaces. Let’s own what also belongs to us. If we’re going to be killed, let us at least be killed for being brave enough to pursue our dreams, and not because we were cowards who let our dreams be wasted on people who don’t deserve an iota of our time. If we quiver now, if we get bullied, not only will we undo all the hard work of the women before us because of whom we can leave the kitchen, but also spoil the future of the women after us who will be forced back into the kitchen. Let’s stay the courage, my working friend, and let ghar waapsi happen for the right reasons. In an era where we fetishize opinions we don’t own, the weekly ‘Moderate Mahila Mandate’ presents unadulterated and non-partisan views on what’s happening to women in India today.  Meghna Pant is a multiple award-winning and bestselling author, screenwriter, columnist and speaker, whose latest novel BOYS DON’T CRY (Penguin Random House) will soon be seen on screen.