[Reproduced below are four pieces, arranged roughly in reverse chronological order.
The first one, at the very bottom, is Ghazala Wahab's charge against M J Akbar, the boss, on the ground of sexual harrassments and the passive complicity of Seema Mustafa, who, allegedly, had been the second-in-command (?). The subsequent three are Ms Mustafa's responses in self-defence and also offering her assessment of the current wave in motion. There are obviously two aspects involved and closely intertwined. One, the specific case. The responsibities and roles of the three parties involved. (Of course, M J Akbar's testimony is missing here. That's a significant gap. Nevertheless.) Two, the broader issue of MeToo, triggered by the spirited coming out of Tanushree Dutta, against rather formidable Nana Patekar. Further aided by Vinta Nanda, with her courageous stand against Alok Nath. What're its positives and what are the dark spots, if any? These are, even if intertwined, two different issues. Need be carefully segregated and evaluated. Beyond the particularity of this specific case, the MeToo is obviously a suddedn and spontaneous outburst, very much triggered by Tanushree Dutta's spirited protests and the complex responses that followed. It's by no way an organised, preplanned and coordinated set of actions. Dutta appears to have been able to remove the stopper, at least partly, of a highly pressurised bottle of pent-up emotions. Quite a few have opted to come out in the open. Quite likely, the overwhwlming majority still subscribe to the notion that discretion is the better part of valour. Never mind. It has caused a stir nonetheless. Those who have come out are all professional women, few are fairly affluent. Of course, considerably, more privileged than an average Indian woman or, even, man. But, their privileged positions also carry their own insecurities, and allurements too. That make them singularly vulnerable, to men in positions of power. Some may be even voluntarily using their vulnerabilities vis-a-vis the men in power to their own advantage, making it a *sort of* win-win deal. But there're others, who're just not ready for it. Even those falling in the first category might have not been able to escape the accompanying psychological trauma altogether. It's a struggle pertaining to a rather tiny section of the populace. But encapsulates the broader power equation in the society. Any positive outcome cannot but have a cascading effect. A negative outcome hardly chages anything. Ms Mustafa has made certain general points, for the above reasons, are worth taking note of: <<The first problem that I encountered with this movement, and that remains, is its inability to differentiate between the man who is guilty of rape and sexual assault from the man who solicited a woman with a drink, or an unacceptable text message. The movement offers the same ‘punishment’ for all. The same response, and the same reaction.>> Spontaneity, driven by emotions has its own problems. Her points as regards the elitist nature of the movement are both self-evident and, let's say, banal. It overlooks the specificity of power equations between genders, that obtains cutting across class lines. That's where the importance of MeToo lies. It poses a challenge to the reigning order. How ephemeral, or otherwise, only time will tell.] I/IV. Seema Mustafa 4 hrs I have said that I do not remember Ghazala Wahab confiding in me about the assault by Asian Age editor MJ Akbar. As I re-read her account I find that she mentioned meeting me in the Surya Kiran building where she says I was Bureau Chief in 1997. The fact is, as my colleagues now remind me, that I was not the Bureau Chief while the Asian Age was functioning from Surya Kiran building. I had a part time position and came into the office only occasionally to write an editorial when required. I did not have a cubicle of my own, though Ghazala's account says that she spoke to me in my cubicle. And that she approached me because I was the Bureau Chief. I only took over as Bureau Chief when the office shifted to Vandana Building, which is when I joined as a permanent staff member. Ghazala's account refers to a time when someone else was the Chief of Bureau.Incidentally Ghazala, as she says, joined AA in 1994 when it was launched. I joined as a part timer in 1997 and then went on to become the Bureau Chief. II/IV. Seema Mustafa 21 hrs There is finally a fight for a decisive change in the culture of newsrooms and media organisations, that have thus far accorded impunity to powerful men. While I have reservations with the MeToo movement, I have repeatedly said that this particular change is to be celebrated. Anyone who knows me can vouch for the fact that I have, over the years, been consistent in my condemnation - both on and off the record - of the culture at Asian Age, created by MJ Akbar. We were never silent, but our inability to be more vocal stemmed from the inability at the time -- 20 years ago -- of victims to publicly share the account of harassment. I do not recall anyone coming forth while I was at the Asian Age, and yet, I believe Ghazala Wahab when she says that she confided in me. Although I had only recently been confirmed in the Asian Age, I hope that when I said she should take a call, it meant that the decision to report the harassment she faced was hers to make, but she had my support if she chose to report it. Unfortunately, at the time - victims did not have the safety or security to speak out, or perhaps the support to fight it out. We did not have sexual harassment committees or social media, and the only course of redressal was to file a complaint with the cops. This was perhaps the reason that journalists of my generation were forced to fight sexual harassment directly or remain silent. I am glad women finally have the space, security and support to call out perpetrators of sexual violence, and demand a necessary shift in newsrooms and media organisations. I stand by my article in TheCitizen.in that was written before Ghazala's story was published. In the article I have written on the culture at Asian Age in detail, and then later added that I support and stand by Ghazala and the others coming forward. My reservations with MeToo should not be misconstrued into a support or defence for MJ Akbar and other perpetrators of violence. III/IV. https://www.thecitizen.in/index.php/en/NewsDetail/index/7/15213/Whoa-MeToo-Hold-Your-Horses SEEMA MUSTAFA | 10 OCTOBER, 2018 Whoa #MeToo, Hold Your Horses… Whoa #MeToo, Hold Your Horses… Note: This article was written before Ghazala Wahab’s disclosure on MJ Akbar and has been updated since. It refers to the work culture at the Asian Age of the time, that is between 1997 when I had just joined till my resignation ten years later. Following a misleading campaign on Twitter, that misconstrued my reservations with MeToo into a defence for MJ Akbar, I have clarified my position in a status and in this subsequent article. At the very beginning let me make two facts clear. One, I am writing as a journalist who has spent a lifetime on the side of the oppressed, and this includes women, particularly those in the rural areas. And hence come into the #MeToo debate with some reluctance, but as a person from the same side of the fence, fully opposed to patriarchy in all its forms, and flying the flag for gender equality, justice and rights. This is for those who might not be conversant with the work I and many other colleagues have done, walked the roads, been hit by water canons, attacked by goons in the fields for covering rape of Dalit women, social oppression et al. And it is after much thought and discussion I have finally reached the conclusion that I have a problem with the tone and tenor of the MeToo movement on the social media. Maybe, as feminists have noted in their writings for newspapers like The Guardian, it is a generational gap, or perhaps the trial of both --- the accuser and the accused --- on the social media is too unsavoury to digest. For the girls are also being attacked by the usual patriarchal mindset for doing little more than sharing experience. The first problem that I encountered with this movement, and that remains, is its inability to differentiate between the man who is guilty of rape and sexual assault from the man who solicited a woman with a drink, or an unacceptable text message. The movement offers the same ‘punishment’ for all. The same response, and the same reaction. It also seems difficult --- for me at least as my years in journalism were spent in the backwaters of the Hindi belt mostly --- to accept a movement that is so exclusive and by its very nature is confined to the upwardly mobile elite in a couple of big cities with no resonance whatsoever in the smaller districts and villages. Well that is not the intention, others might argue but then can such a movement in a country like India where the majority is excluded --- including the girls working under harrowing circumstances in regional purposes --- actually carry legitimacy beyond a point? And be successful in confronting patriarchy in the manner intended? These are questions that come to mind, and are not condemnations of the movement itself. At the same time I am convinced and impressed with the argument of the supporters of MeToo that it has succeeded in placing the onus on the man for acts of sexual harassment; two it allows women to speak in the security of larger support on the social media and three, creates an environment where the victim does not have to suffer from the insecurity of being a victim. But to come back to the critique in the hope that the questions and issues raised here will be factored in to better what is clearly a powerful weapon discovered by women across the world. In most cases the stories shared here are old, even decades old, that the woman bottled up and seemed to be encouraged by MeToo to share. This is a big achievement to my mind, but at the same time, engaging with criticism -- especially from those on the same side of the fence -- will only strengthen a movement. Me Too has allowed journalists the space to name and shame predators in their work environment, and ensure action. And several names have emerged, some have gone quiet, some have protested, and some have lost their jobs or stepped down pending enquiry. As I write the demand for the sacking of Union Minister, and former journalist MJ Akbar has reached a crescendo. I worked with Akbar in The Telegraph where our boss in Delhi was Kewal Verma, and he was that entity who flitted in and out of Delhi. We met him sometimes, and to be frank he did not seem to be particularly interested in any of us in the Bureau. In fact, rather antagonistic for the most part.After serious political differences with him---he had become a Rajiv Gandhi bhakt midway, stopping my reports (I was covering the Congress party)--I went to Aveek Sarkar and resigned. By the way, Akbar stayed in a hotel when he came to Delhi, and used that for interviews and meetings. I was interviewed at the hotel, and so were some colleagues who did not report anything unusual. Incidentally I met Sarkar also in his hotel room in Delhi, to resign. As I met several diplomats, and visiting scholars, judges and even officials. So hotel rooms were then part of work, not sleazy unless the man inside made them so. Perhaps it is different now. I did not see or speak with Akbar for a decade, and then at some point joined the Asian Age. It was here that one became aware of his growing interest in younger girls, and while many joined and stayed the course there were no complaints from the Bureau. Not a single, a fact I verified with recent conversations with former colleagues. He left the Bureau completely alone, never hassled any girl, communicated with reporters (including men) directly through me, adopting a hands off approach for all the time I worked there. I stayed because he gave me full space, did not interfere, and remained polite through the years I was there. In fact many stories he was credited for, like the nuclear deal or the Bofors interviews, were at our initiative with Akbar--visibly worried---going along. It seemed to be a different story on the desk, as all his favourites ---male colleagues included---were there. He would party with them, drink with them, mix with them while keeping a long distance from the Bureau. We were rarely invited for these parties, hosted by the young female and male sub-editors living in apartments. Akbar used the work place to hire young girls who received undue attention. We don’t have any idea---and I say this with complete responsibility and after discussion with a couple of my senior former colleagues---whether he had sexual relations with them, but yes women were promoted out of turn, brought on to Page 1 sub-editing as he handled that directly, and there were whispers about specific girls on the desk. London was a choice posting, almost reserved for girls though a couple of guys did dent this bastion, and the perception was that the sub editor (never a reporter) posted there was the current favourite. And available for Akbar when he visited London which was often. But then to be fair, often male sub editors were treated in the same manner, with the same partiality. In fact there were girls we could not criticise to him even for shoddy work, but there were also men he did not want to hear a word against. We suspected a great deal, often felt we knew a lot of what we weren’t actually able to see, but in real terms there was not a shred of evidence, ever. Not inside the office of the Asian Age at least. Solid speculation, no evidence. And that is the truth. But an atmosphere full of whispers and conjecture and speculation does not make for a healthy work place. But now I read the story of Ghazala Wahab, a case of total harassment and abuse by MJ Akbar. Out of the MeToo movement, but a strong indictment of the editor and his behaviour. A confirmation of what we thought he did, and had little by way of evidence. She says she spoke to me, and I am sure she is right. If she spoke to me she did not share the details as she has written them now. It is well recognised in the women’s movement that a boss using the work space to solicit his subordinates is guilty of sexual harassment, regardless of whether the girl agrees or not. As he uses his position of privilege to extract concessions that he might not receive in an equal playing field. Me Too is a powerful voice. But I do have a concern, which I hope other women will help me address. My problem is that the movement is too subjective, it is arbitrary. It has no responsibility. All I require is the right gender, access to Twitter, and I can level any allegation against anyone for it to be believed hook, line and sinker and for the man to be pilloried beyond belief. I am not saying that the women are lying, most will not be. But there will be the one, or the two, who would name a man for reasons other than harassment. And then what? After all old fashioned jurisprudence does warn against collateral damage, and does speak of justice as a concept where an innocent man is not framed, even if it means the guilty get away. Yes men have lost their jobs and we are proud of this success of MeToo. But on what basis? Where is the enquiry, where is the evidence, where is all that as journalists we require before we even publish a story. The point is behind every tweet there is a subjective story, and that is important in our final verdict----since we have become the mob with the power to try and hang even before the accused has a chance to defend himself. This woman against man attitude disturbs me too. In journalism most of my colleagues are men. I was perhaps one of the fortunate women who does not have a single untoward incident to report where my bosses and my colleagues were concerned. I travelled with them, in conflict situations we shared rooms, not a word, not a gesture. But yes I do have a Who’s Who list of others who crossed the line, repeatedly. But then there was no MeToo so I settled them directly. And like feminist Germaine Greer has recently said in an interview, settle them there and then. Don’t wait for years. We did that instinctively. Many of us. We read them the riot act----and believe me all powerful people. And they backed off and while some never spoke to me again, others dissolved into courtesy. MeToo is of course elite, and urban. That is the nature of the beast. It has no room for the women who many of us have interviewed in different locations of India, for whom rape in the fields is a daily occurrence. For whom the patriarch is the feudal landlord who has established a right to their bodies. Who are sick to their souls, terrified and terrorised, but cannot even recognise it as otherwise they might end their own lives. These women’s stories remain imprinted on the mind. The young girl in a remote village in Banda, accessible only in a run down boat, who was raped along with her mother and her grandmother is a walking tragedy. The police are upper caste, the village is upper caste, and she along with her family suffers in silence. This is India but we in our selfishness often do not even recognise it. And if we do, don’t make it part of our own. This is the fight to be fought. Journalists don’t visit them any longer, the women's movements except for a couple, have disappeared from the horizon. As for the law, where did that ever exist for the dispossessed? And can a movement in India survive, or carry legitimacy when it is just for a miniscule population and completely, in every which way divorced from the masses? Questions that I guess only time will answer. I respect the woman who has filed a petition against Soli Sorabjee, I too was invited for Dhan Saag once but nothing happened! My full support and solidarity for Ghazala Wahab who had obviously gone through hell, and has come out of it with the courage to share her experience in a sober article out of the movement. In fact her article has given the proof of MJ Akbar’s behaviour for which he needs to lose his job. I have full respect and support for the women who have used the hashtag to share traumatic experiences and created an environment for debate and discussion. I am sure there is more out there, and I know some girls who have more to say, maybe they will find the courage. But then maybe they won’t. But the context cannot be lost, or the larger perspective ignored. (This is my personal view and not the considered editorial policy of The Citizen). (Following the misleading campaign on Twitter that has misconstrued my reservations with MeToo into a defence for MJ Akbar, I have clarified my position as: There is finally a fight for a decisive change in the culture of newsrooms and media organisations, that have thus far accorded impunity to powerful men. While I have reservations with the MeToo movement, I have repeatedly said that this particular change is to be celebrated. Anyone who knows me can vouch for the fact that I have, over the years, been consistent in my condemnation - both on and off the record - of the culture at Asian Age, created by MJ Akbar. We were never silent, but our inability to be more vocal stemmed from the inability at the time -- 20 years ago -- of victims to publicly share the account of harassment. I do not recall anyone coming forth while I was at the Asian Age, and yet, I believe Ghazala Wahab when she says that she confided in me. Although I had only recently been confirmed in the Asian Age, I hope that when I said she should take a call, it meant that the decision to report the harassment she faced was hers to make, but she had my support if she chose to report it. Unfortunately, at the time - victims did not have the safety or security to speak out, or perhaps the support to fight it out. We did not have sexual harassment committees or social media, and the only course of redressal was to file a complaint with the cops. This was perhaps the reason that journalists of my generation were forced to fight sexual harassment directly or remain silent. I am glad women finally have the space, security and support to call out perpetrators of sexual violence, and demand a necessary shift in newsrooms and media organisations. I stand by my article in TheCitizen.in that was written before Ghazala's story was published. In the article I have written on the culture at Asian Age in detail, and then later added that I support and stand by Ghazala and the others coming forward. My reservations with MeToo should not be misconstrued into a support or defence for MJ Akbar and other perpetrators of violence) IV. https://thewire.in/media/mj-akbar-sexual-harassment Ghazala Wahab 20 HOURS AGO Trigger warning: This article contains details about sexual assault and harassment which may be triggering to survivors. As the #MeToo campaign hit India, I tweeted on October 6 that, “I wonder when the floodgates will open about @mjakbar.” Soon enough, friends and former colleagues from the Asian Age, where M.J. Akbar was the editor when I joined as an intern in 1994, reached out. Why don’t you write about your ‘Akbar story’, they urged. I wasn’t sure if it was a dignified thing to do after over two decades. But when the messages persisted, I thought about it. I spent the weekend replaying those harrowing six months in my mind. Something that I had locked away in a remote corner of my mind still gave me goose-bumps. At some point, my eyes welled up and I told myself that I will not be known as a victim; that those six months in 1997 meant nothing to me and do not in anyway define my personality. I decided not to follow-up my tweet. It is one thing to discover that your idol has the base instincts of an animal and quite another to declare it to the world. But the messages persisted. Some said that maybe my account will give courage to others to come out too. So, here is my story. § In 1989, when I was still in school, my father presented me with a copy of Akbar’s Riot After Riot. I devoured the book in two days. I then bought India: The Siege Within and Nehru: The Making of India. I quietly pushed Freedom at Midnight, O Jerusalem and Is Paris Burning to one side. I had a new favourite writer. While I had decided to be a journalist even before I knew how to spell the word, exposure to Akbar’s books turned desire into passion. So that I did not lose focus, I enrolled in a bachelors’ course in journalism after school. When I landed a job in the Delhi office of The Asian Age in 1994, I was convinced that it was destiny that brought me there; so that I could learn from the best in the business. But learning had to wait. First, the illusion had to shatter. Akbar wore his erudition lightly. A little too lightly. He screamed, he swore and he drank in the office. ‘You are too small town-ish,’ a senior colleague rapped me. So, I swallowed my small-townish mentality and for the next two years accepted everything as part of the office culture — Akbar’s flirtation with young sub-editors, his blatant favouritism and his bawdy jokes. I heard people refer to the Asian Age Delhi office as Akbar’s harem — there were far too many young women than men. And I also frequently heard office gossip about his affairs with sub editors/ reporters or that in every regional office of the Asian Age he had a girlfriend. I shrugged all of it as office culture. I was in the periphery of his attention and remained unaffected. Credit: The Wire In my third year at the Asian Age, the office culture hit home. His eyes fell on me. And my nightmare began. My desk was shifted to just outside his cabin, perpendicularly opposite his desk, so that if the door to his room was left slightly open, I was face to face with him. He would sit at his desk and watch me all the time, often sending me lewd messages on the Asian Age intranet network. Thereafter, emboldened by my obvious helplessness, he started calling me into his cabin (the door to which he would always shut) for conversation, most of which was personal in nature. Things like my family background and how I was working and living alone in Delhi against the wishes of my parents. Sometimes, he would make me sit opposite him while he was supposedly writing his weekly column. The idea was that if he needed to look up a word in the gigantic dictionary placed on a low tripod on the far end of his cabin, he would ask me instead of walking across the room. The dictionary was placed so low that one needed to either bend down or squat to look up a word, with one’s back towards Akbar. Once, in autumn of 1997, while I was half-squatting over the dictionary, he sneaked up behind me and held me by my waist. I stumbled in sheer fright while struggling to get to my feet. He ran his hands from my breast to my hips. I tried pushing his hands away, but they were plastered on my waist, his thumbs rubbing the sides of my breasts. Click here to read The Wire’s extensive coverage of India’s #MeToo movement Not only was the door shut, his back blocked it. In those few moments of terror, all sorts of thoughts ran through my mind. Finally, he released me. All this while, the wily smile never left his face. I ran out of his cabin and into the toilet to cry my eyes out. The horror and the violation that I felt completely overwhelmed me. I told myself that this would not happen again and that my resistance would have told him that I did not want to be ‘one of his girlfriends.’ But my nightmare had just begun. The next evening, he called me in his cabin. I knocked and entered. He was standing next to the door and before I could react he shut the door, trapping me between his body and the door. I instinctively flinched, but he held me and bent to kiss me. With my mouth clamped shut, I struggled to turn my face to one side. The jostling continued, without much success. I had no space to manoeuvre. Fear had rendered me speechless. As my body was pushing against the door, at some point he let me go. Tear-stricken, I ran out. Out of the office. Out of the Surya Kiran building and into the parking lot. Finding a lonely spot, I sat down on the pavement and cried. My whole life loomed in front of me. I was the first person in my family to come out of my home town Agra to study in Delhi and thereafter work. In the past three years, I had fought several battles at home to be able to live and work in Delhi. Women in my family only studied but never worked. In small town business families, girls always settled for arranged marriages. I had fought against this patriarchy. I had refused to accept money from my father because I wanted to make it on my own. I wanted to be a successful, respected journalist. I just couldn’t quit and go back home as a loser. Also read: #MeToo Singes Modi Government as M.J. Akbar is Accused of Sexual Harassment A colleague, Sanjari Chatterjee, had followed me into the parking lot. She had seen me run out of his cabin with tears rolling down my face. She sat with me for a while. Why don’t you tell Seema Mustafa about this, she suggested. Perhaps, she can talk with Akbar and once he knows that she knows, maybe he will back off. Seema was the bureau chief then. We both came back to the office. I went into her cubicle and narrated my story. She heard me. She was not surprised. She said that the call was entirely mine; that I should decide what I wanted to do. This was 1997. I was alone, confused, helpless and extremely frightened. Finally, I returned to my desk. I sent him a message on Asian Age’s netware messaging system. I told him how highly I regard him as a writer; how this behaviour ruins that image of his in my mind and how I do not want him to behave like this with me again. He immediately called me in his cabin. I thought that he would apologise. I was wrong. He looked pained at my protests and proceeded to give me a lecture on how I was humiliating him by suggesting that his emotions for me were not genuine… On my way back home that night, I finally accepted that the situation at work was going out of my control. I had to find another job. And so, I started to look for a job. Every moment that I spent at the Asian Age office was full of dread. Every time he called me in his cabin, I died a thousand times. I would enter his room, with the door slightly open and with my hand on the door knob. This amused him. Sometimes, he would walk over to the door and put his hand over mine; sometimes he would rub his body against mine; sometimes he would push his tongue against my pursed lips; and every time I would push him away and escape from his room. Also read: Dark Underbelly of Indian Media Revealed as Scores of Journalists Say #MeToo Then my colleague, who had by now become my guardian angel, devised a ploy. Whenever I was called to his cabin, she would wait a moment and follow me inside on some pretext or the other. She became my safety valve. But this worked only to some extent. Having realised that he was not getting his way physically, he employed emotional tactics. One evening he called me in to his office and pleaded with me to go the Ajmer dargah to tie a thread for him. Apparently, he could not trust anyone to do the job. I stayed home pretending to have gone to Ajmer. But somehow, he caught on my lie and heaped religious guilt on me. By now I was a mess of conflicting emotions – I was guilty. I was insecure. And most of all, I was petrified. Office no longer represented independence to me. It was a torture chamber, I was desperate to get out of, but couldn’t find the door. I foolishly still believed that I would be able to quit with dignity once I found another job. Since I continued to resist (in my limited way) his physical overtures, he fired another salvo to break my defences – Veenu Sandal, the Asian Age tarot card reader who used to do a weekly column. Over time, she had become Akbar’s private astrologer. After one particularly harrowing afternoon, when he shooed-off my protective colleague from his office so that he could paw me, Veenu came to my desk and told me that Akbar was truly in love with me. And that I should give him time to show me how much he cared. I was disgusted at this animal. Could he be real? Can his sense of entitlement be so huge that he employs an astrologer to pimp for him? At that point, I was no longer sure of anything. What will happen if I continue to resist him? Will he rape me? Will he harm me? I considered going to the police, but got scared. What if he gets vengeful? I considered telling my parents, but I knew that would be the end of my barely-begun career. After several sleepless nights, I figured that staying on in the Asian Age while looking for another job was no longer an option. That I must quit immediately. So, I mustered courage and told him that I was quitting. He lost his balance. He hollered while I cowered in my chair. Then he got all emotional and held me urging me not to leave him. I came out of his room shaking to the bones. This was turning into an unending nightmare which affected every aspect of my life. I lost my appetite. I lost my sleep. I lost my desire to hang out with my friends. Also read: Dear men of #MeToo: Abuse is behaviour, not a symptom of mental illness Then it got worse. Akbar told me that he was launching an edition from Ahmedabad and wanted me to shift there. All my protests about my parents not allowing me to shift were brushed aside as he started to loudly plan. I would be given a house in Ahmedabad and everything would be taken care of by the company. And whenever he came there, he would stay with me. My panic shot through the roof. In that moment of pure terror, I discovered a reservoir of calm within. I stopped protesting. Slowly, over the next few weeks I started clearing my desk, taking my books etc., home, a few at a time. So that the evening before my departure for Ahmedabad, my desk was clear. Handing over a sealed envelope which had my resignation letter to Akbar’s secretary I left the office at the usual time. I requested her to give the envelope to him only the following evening, well after it would be discovered that I hadn’t taken the flight to Ahmedabad. Next day, I stayed home. In the evening, Akbar called on my home phone number. He had taken my number from the office. He raved – angry and emotional by turns. I was petrified. What if he comes home? I stayed awake the whole night and boarded the first train to my parents the next morning. Nobody asked me anything at home. My parents sensed that all was not well. The fight had gone out of all of us. I stayed home for a few weeks. Then when I told my father that I wanted to return to Delhi to my job, he didn’t protest. All he said was, look for another job. And I broke down. In the last 21 years, I had put all this behind me. I was determined not to be a victim, and not let one monster’s debauchery ruin my career, even though occasionally I had nightmares. Maybe now the nightmares will stop. The Wire had written to M.J. Akbar on October 9, 2018 seeking his response to the accusations several women had made against him. We will inform our readers of any reply we receive from him. Ghazala Wahab is executive editor FORCE newsmagazine and co-author of the book Dragon on our Doorstep: Managing China Through Military Power -- Peace Is Doable -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "Green Youth Movement" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to [email protected]. 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