I’m Shagun (Shah-goon). It’s ironic, isn’t it? I’ve worked hard—pushed myself through three degrees, landed a job in this industry, a space I thought would be challenging yet rewarding. I was prepared to give it my all, but I was not prepared for this reality. Every day I step into that office, it feels like walking into a place where the very idea of respect has gone to die.
The culture here is nothing like I’d imagined; it’s as if the men see women as nothing but “kotay-walis,” like some tragic scene from Devdas. The looks, the comments, the lingering stares—they’re a constant reminder that in their eyes, I’m an object, not a colleague. I’d never been so hyper-aware of my own discomfort, my own vulnerability. I dreaded going into work every morning. Some days, I’d try to stay as long as I could in the little café adjacent to our office, just to avoid that space. But even that wasn’t really an escape. One of the men from my department, Sameer, would often come by to grab his coffee. His eyes would lock onto me, like I was just another item on his morning checklist. No space felt safe.
This wasn’t why I’d worked so hard. I didn’t become a triple graduate to be ogled at or treated as some cheap thrill. I refused every attempt the men made to talk or flirt or whatever they thought they were doing. When they realized I wasn’t interested, their attitude shifted quickly from charm to dismissal, even resentment. Not one of them showed respect to me or the other women in our office. Some of the others accepted it, feeling they had no choice, but I couldn’t.
So, I made a choice. I stopped waiting for it to change, and I took a step of my own. I began documenting every instance, every comment, every look that crossed the line. I connected with some women outside our department, those who’d faced similar treatment, and we compiled our experiences. Finally, we presented it to HR—not that I had much faith in them, but there was power in making them confront it
If there’s anything other women can learn from this, it’s that silence doesn’t protect us; it only fuels their behavior. I hated every moment there, but I hate the thought of another woman facing the same more. If we want change, we have to make our voices heard, even in spaces that don’t want to listen.
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