Trigger Warning: This story discusses themes of workplace harassment and safety concerns in healthcare settings, which may be distressing for some readers.
Unveiling Reality: Personal Experiences on Navigating Safety in South Asian Communities
From Saanvi’s Perspective
I never thought I’d have to fear for my sister’s safety when we both decided to become nurses. Purvi and I grew up wanting to help people, to make a difference. Our parents were proud of us, especially as we both ended up working at the same hospital, albeit in different departments. I work in the mental health ward, and Purvi works in the children’s ward. We’ve even swapped shifts a few times—sometimes I work nights while she covers the day shifts, and other times we’re both working at the same time but in completely different corners of the hospital.
But after what happened to Moumita Debnath, everything feels different now.
Earlier this year, the story of Moumita, a nurse like us, spread like wildfire. She was attacked in the middle of her night shift. That incident changed the atmosphere in the hospital. It wasn’t just the patients or the workload we had to worry about anymore—it was the very environment we worked in.
Our parents became terrified. They’d always been cautious, but after hearing about Moumita, they wanted Purvi and me to stay home, safe from whatever lurked in those hospital corridors at night. They didn’t care that we could arrange to work only day shifts, they just wanted us far away from the danger.
Samar, our younger brother, even though he’s just ten, has always been incredibly mature for his age. He begged us to stop working nights. I saw the fear in his eyes, a fear no child should have to feel for their older sisters. I knew it wasn’t fair to keep brushing off his concerns, especially when he understood more than we ever gave him credit for.
But Purvi and I made a promise to each other—we wouldn’t let fear rule our lives. That’s why I always remind her to stay safe. Every time she leaves for her night shifts, I tell her to be cautious, to be alert. And she does the same for me when I’m the one heading out into the dark.
It’s not just the nights we have to worry about, though. There are people at the hospital—patients and even staff—who make others uncomfortable. You hear whispers about certain workers or patients behaving inappropriately, crossing boundaries. It’s not just stories, it’s real. We’ve both felt it. A hand that lingers too long, a comment that’s too personal.
A few months back, Purvi told me about one of her colleagues who would stare at her just a little too intensely. She didn’t say anything at first, because that’s what we’re taught, isn’t it? To brush things off. To not make a scene. But eventually, it got to a point where she couldn’t ignore it anymore. She told me everything one evening when we were both home, and that’s when I realized the weight we were carrying.
After what happened to Moumita, there was no more brushing things off. Our hospital even tried to tighten security, but you and I both know that a few extra cameras won’t make a difference when someone’s intent on doing harm. Purvi and I have become more vigilant. We text each other constantly during our shifts, checking in even when we’re too busy to breathe.
Our parents still haven’t fully accepted that we’re not going to give up nursing. They try, though. They understand that it’s not just a job for us, it’s a calling. But I see the fear in their eyes every time I walk out the door for a night shift, or when Purvi leaves before the sun rises.
Their worry only grew when our neighbor’s daughter, who used to be a nurse, told them about her own experience. She had narrowly avoided an attack during her shift and was so shaken by it that she quit her job and became a teacher aide instead. Our parents started questioning if maybe it was time for us to do the same—leave nursing for something ‘safer.’ But the thing is, safety isn’t always about where you are. Sometimes it’s about how you carry yourself, the precautions you take, and the community you build around you.
Purvi and I have talked about it endlessly, and we’ve promised each other that we’ll look out for one another. We’re arranging to work more day shifts, but in a hospital, that’s not always possible. There will be times when we have to face those nights, those eerie corridors, and the unsettling silence that hangs over everything.
But we won’t let it stop us. We’re strong, and we’re prepared. We’ve learned to be careful, to trust our instincts, and to speak up when something doesn’t feel right. Most importantly, we’ve learned to lean on each other.
We can’t control the world around us, but we can control how we navigate it. For Purvi, for myself, and for every other woman out there who’s had to face fear in her workplace, we will keep going. We will keep fighting.
And no one—no man, no threat, no dark corridor—will take that away from us.
Picture Source: Pinterest
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