So here I am, peacably walking home again. In the less-frequented stretch just before my colony, a bike came at me from the wrong side. A common enough sight that I thought little of. The bike came close and I could see the man: strong build, trim beard. He looked at me and spat.
It hit my arm. I wiped it off and walked on for a few steps before pausing to look back. I was unafraid, because the gates were a few paces away, and I could run in and scream for the guards.
He was standing a distance away. I stood there, wanting to show that he hadn't scared me, and after a while he moved away.
I have no idea what irked him. I don't think I had seen him before, unless he was the same man on a bike I had passed on the road a short distance back. He was in my way, and I walked around him, there being no footpath to walk on. I was even dressed in salwar kameez - or perhaps he took offense at my bare arms.
If this - or the last incident - had happened when I was even a year younger, I would have been shaken for hours. I would have raved, probably cried. It must be a combination of my feminism and the stabilising presence of the Guy that I shrug and move on.
But I wonder how safe it is to continue to walk home at night?