It’s a common enough experience shared by most women travellers across India. That is, women who travel solo or in groups of two, three or more without a man. At some point or the other, at a bus stand, in the train, at a hotel desk, at a tea shop, you get looked at in a strange way and asked, “Kya aap akele ho (You are alone)?” It doesn’t matter that four women friends are with you at that point, making ridiculous faces in an attempt to make you laugh. “No, we are five of us,” you clarify. “Hain, toh aap sab akele ho (Okay, so you all are alone),” declares the person, making it clear that no matter how many women you are, being out of the house without a male companion, you are perceived of as being alone. I’ve heard men voice this aloud, so also women.
The “alone” is accompanied by some measure of judgement and censure of the woman/women. It’s noticeable in the raise of the eyebrows, or the tone of the voice, or in the many personal questions asked thereafter. It all boils down to letting you know exactly ‘how silly, stupid and naïve you are to attempt a journey on your own, something no good Indian girl would ever want to do, given that the world out there is dangerous without a man’. In actuality, the world out there is dangerous even with a man and for a man. Any moment, you may be mowed down by a vehicle, or get caught in a terrorist attack, or be mugged and physically assaulted. Yet, men are not stopped from travelling on their own. In fact, they are encouraged to tick that next great adventure off their bucket list.
Women, on the other hand, are warned. From girlhood, they are socialised with the idea of a woman without a man being out of place. They are encouraged to occupy domestic spaces and fear the public. Madhusree Dutta’s national award-winning film, Memories of Fear (1995), beautifully articulates the impact of this imposition of fear upon women.
This is not to downplay the sexual violence and harassment that women face in public (besides what they face in private).
Every time, I’ve been on a night bus to Goa or Aurangabad, I’ve been unable to sleep because under the cover of darkness, strange men’s hands from behind my seat have attempted to grab me. At a hotel in Bhopal where I once stayed alone on a trip, I had to push a chair and a table against the door to keep it from being opened. Still, I was up most of the night, hearing men talk about me in the corridor outside my room. These are unnerving experiences shared by many women travellers, who constantly strategise in multiple ways to keep themselves safe while travelling.
But this hasn’t dented the adventurous spirit of Indian women. Travel industry statistics indicate that over the last two years, more than 35% of Indian women travellers opted to travel solo. Many have chosen challenging vacations that include trekking, camping, scuba diving, rafting, etc.
The thing that keeps them going again and again is the same thing that attracts all travellers: the dare of the journey and the joy that comes from risking everyday comfort for the possibility of finding something unique and different. For women, travelling alone or with a girlfriend, the thrill is often in crossing boundaries, both physical and metaphorical, and in challenging fears that they’ve been forced to internalise over the years.
I remember my six-week solo train trip across America several years ago. While the landscapes were beautiful, what I remember most are stimulating conversations with abject strangers. That trip taught me that strangers need not always be feared; many could be affable companions as well. Sometimes, an outer journey can bring such inner changes.
Sameera Khan is a Mumbai-based journalist, researcher and co-author, Why Loiter? Women & Risk on Mumbai Streets
