For Indian women, transport is something of a trial; right from when we announce our plans for an evening out and we are barraged with questions, “Where is it? Which part of town? Are you going alone? Is there a need to go alone?” It’s a common response to our wanting to go full Eat, Pray, Love wherever we live, and being mediated by our social media feeds fuels this intra-city-wanderlust.
Rethinking nostalgia
Having lived in India for almost a year now, it’s hit home just how much I, among many, have to meticulously plan out commutes in order to ensure a fulfilling day out. Women need to think twice before stepping into a taxi, be it Uber or Ola. Do the driver, license plates and vehicle match the one in the app listing? A mental comfort is the SHE Teams around the city who have helped defend the safety of women.
One thing that saddens me is that taking an auto-rickshaw as a kid no longer has the same novelty as taking one as a young professional. There’s a liberation about them: the open sides providing an up-close view of the busy streets, and when the driver happens to brake next a chaat bhandar, you can enjoy a quick bite without even leaning out of the vehicle. But now lugging around a laptop and other various things you never had to as a kid inhibits that.
East vs West
Upon discussing this with a friend who’d moved over from the States, she expressed similar sentiments, “I think it’s also the fact we’ve returned to the nest, and our parents also can’t help but watch the dramatic shows such as those on Life OK. These incidents do spore in our minds into something fearful and we can’t avoid it.”
This discourse made me look back upon the other modes of travel I’ve taken and how times have affected the way women on a larger scale go from A to B. A virally-spread 2016 blog post in Motto by Time delineated why women should travel alone and how beneficial it is. Instead of outlining potential dangers and how to be mentally prepared, the writer pointed out the emotional aspects of travelling alone, namely loneliness. Considering our slowly changing status quo, it’s more acceptable for women of the West to travel alone and take on the ‘finding yourself’ path, but it’s unthinkable for women of the East to do so because of the implications, “Are her parents are okay with her just wandering around? Surely she can find herself at home?” So that brings this issue back to intra-city travel, simply because... act locally, think globally.
Previous travels
It’s another story with London’s Underground — it did, however, have its own share of inconveniences: gropings, people taking pictures of women eating and even the mortifying ‘under the skirt’ shots. However, these occurrences were rare; with the Overground being a lot more hazardous in those aspects. And with the city in general being exorbitantly expensive in terms of, well, anything, the most favourable way of commuting — in spite of the constant irritating drizzle — was walking. Residing in the steel and glass wonders of the city, my 45 minute walk to campus in a largely pedestrian city provided Instagram-worthy scenery. London’s colour palette is, to this day, extremely accommodating to the grey hues of the skies.
Botswana, a largely matriarchal society, is one of the places that, in the late 90s and early 2000s, was a great place to commute by foot, and taking a combi, multi-passenger taxis, was a no-brainer and an extremely cost-effective solution. Sharing a van with 13 other people and the driver, all chatting away with the air-conditioner drying your eyes out made for a cheerful and safe ride. But now, I look at the beautifully safe city in which I grew up hit by economic troubles, ultimately leading to less safety.
It’s noteworthy that in spite of the size of a given place, one will retain the same concerns— our world is rapidly becoming more homogenised with the globalisation of travel. It isn’t what it used to be, and I find myself, at 25, starting my sentences as my grandparents used to, “In my day...”
