by Vani Viswanathan
“It’s 11pm!” she squealed. With joy. “AND I’M OUTSIDE!”
I smiled; it was something I had taken for granted, but for this fresh college graduate, it was something. And then I remembered – it was my first night in Mumbai, having landed from Singapore only a few hours earlier, and I was amazed to be out on the streets at 11pm too, with someone I’d known for a couple of hours. My friend squealing didn’t seem so strange anymore.
Over the next few weeks, I discovered the surprises that being out in Mumbai late in the night meant, thanks to her. Being out late in Singapore meant nothing more than the public train service not being available and a higher taxi rate. Here, it was a whole other world.
It was about rediscovering Marine Drive: that you could safely sit there even in pouring rain, even at 4am, play cards even as the wind threatened to drive them into the sea, lie across the pavement and look up at the clouded Bombay skies. A group of girls cackling loudly, clicking photos, eating candyfloss, and sometimes taking a few puffs.
It was about discovering train journeys: the pleasure of dashing across the long corridors of CST to buy tickets for the last train, jumping on to a moving train after confirming it does go to your station, rushing into the women’s compartment. It was about seeing who got the better seat, and who remembered first to stand by the door. It was about hanging on to the pole and leaning out to feel the salty wind – and the occasional sweet stench quintessentially Bombay – on the face. It was about looking occasionally at the male guard stationed to ‘protect’ the women, and sometimes feeling reassured by his presence. It was about singing songs full throated one really late night for a game of antakshari. It was about being told by the guard to not lean out late in the night because some truant boys would pelt stones at the coaches, and soon enough, hearing a few sharp clanks on the train walls.
It was about begging cab and auto drivers to take more than the allowed number of people. That the smaller girl would duck if a policeman came in sight, and the occasional tense moments and unnecessary ducking due to false alarms.
It was about waltzing into campus long after the gates closed, and entering (often random) names, phone numbers and room numbers in the register, and the few moments of controlling laughter and the joyous moments of eventually bursting out laughing at the names she entered. Of sometimes hoping to walk by without being noticed and asked to enter details in the register, and those occasional victories when it actually happened.
It was about being found alone near one of Mumbai’s dingy local train stations, desperately hoping for an auto and wishing those leering men would go away.
It was about drinking beer where it wasn’t allowed, and dropping off the friend in the other hostel, giggling all the way.
It was about late night walks, clandestine hugs, outpourings and long phone calls, swatting at mosquitoes all the while.
It was about holding out placards on women’s empowerment while waiting for a bus, after walking at a rally.
It was about realising that you had the right to be you, no matter where, and at what time. It was about reclaiming the night. It was about getting the freedom to loiter. And telling the world that being a woman had nothing to do with it.
It was about rediscovering freedom. Freedom that I had so easily got as a 17-year-old being redefined as I turned 25. All thanks to a screechy she.
Vani Viswanathan is often lost in her world of books and A R Rahman, churning out lines in her head or humming a song. Her world is one of frivolity, optimism, quietude and general chilled-ness, where there is always place for outbursts of laughter, bouts of silence, chocolate, ice cream and lots of books and endless iTunes playlists from all over the world. She is now a CSR communications consultant, and has been blogging at http://chennaigalwrites.blogspot.com since 2005.
Pic :http://www.flickr.com/photos/
A perky, gutsy write…that’s how a woman should discover freedom and still feel safe! I enjoyed reading this.