This weekend, I went to watch NH10 in the theatre. For those
of you who may not have heard of the movie, it’s a story about a Gurgaon couple
on a road trip somewhere further on in Haryana, who en-route get entangled in
an honor killing case, where the goons turn on them for meddling. They spend
the rest of the movie running for their lives. It’s violent, its brutal, it’s
fascinating and it’s scary. It’s a good movie, in more ways than one.
We watched the movie, and then walked into McD for a quick
snack. And as I sat there, staring at my unsatisfactory Chicken Mc. Grill, I cried. In the middle of Mc Donalds. A very
crowded Mc. Donalds.
Just to put things in perspective, I don’t cry for movies
usually. I was laughing at the end of Kal Ho Na Ho as Shah Rukh Khan half ran
half heart attacked across the city of New York to make sure true love finds a way (Like,
hello, cab much?). And I also am not the type to get scared by gore.
But this one, it hit home. Not because it was that scary,
but because it was just too realistic. It was something, that if you have been
born and brought up in Delhi, you would’ve experienced, a little too much.
No, I haven’t intervened in an honour killing case.
But if you’re any Delhi girl, who hasn’t spent her life
being chauffeured and protected, and only visiting malls, you’ll find scenes in
that movie a little too close to your reality than you’d like.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Delhi. It's by far one of the
most beautiful cities ever, with its food, its history, its monuments, its open
spaces, huge houses, and roads that go on forever. It has the concept of
balconies and terraces and bedrooms that can fit more than just a bed for God’s
sake! And contrary to popular belief, it also has some awesome people.
But somehow, there is this other thing, this mentality, of
some other people you encounter rather often. It’s the mentality of the man who makes
orgasmic noises at you while touching his crotch as you walk past him on the
road. The mentality of the man who presses into you while standing closer than
need be on the DTC bus. The mentality of the man who slowed down his car in the
middle of a desolate road and called out to you to offer a ride in broad daylight,
as you hurriedly walked home from school. But more than anything else, it’s the
mentality of the men who snigger and giggle when they see you being eve teased
in a bus, or turn away, or condemn you for speaking up.
Speaking up…Delhi girls are learning to do that, slowly but
surely. It’s becoming a way of life now, isn’t it? Being alert, pulling up men
for misbehaving, taking them to the police station, irrespective of the crap
the police might say to you. It isn’t the easiest thing to do, nor at a lot of
times the safest, but girls learn young and they learn fast. How to survive in
the city. It’s something that you grow up with, it’s natural adaptation. And it
isn’t something that you notice or even pay attention to. Until you move out.
Maybe you think I’m exaggerating. Maybe I’ve had worse
experiences than you. But I somewhat doubt it. I know too many friends who have
been chased by goons in bigger cars while driving, cajoled by guys in a jeep
while they rode a cycle rickshaw back to our hostel, had creeping hands that
seemed to belong to nobody in crowded metros and buses, and been humiliated for
speaking up. And this is when I and all my friends have led very normal and
average lives.
I moved to Mumbai a few years ago. It’s a brutal city, not
one known to be nice to visitors. It takes the theory of survival of the
fittest to heart, and really knows how to kick your ass specially in your bad
days. And it isn’t by far a very safe city. But… it’s safer than Delhi. I take
public transport home after dark. Heck, I stay out alone after dark. And it
doesn’t petrify me. Even if I’m not yet ready to completely throw away my
pepper spray, it is now tucked away in a darker corner of my purse.
My point is, this city made me realize that there was
something wrong with my Delhi way of life. I don’t HAVE to try and make it home
before dark. I don’t HAVE to keep looking over my shoulder if I go clubbing. I don’t
HAVE to assume every guy out there is a potential rapist. There is a better way
of life, a normal way of life. And all this I realized from the not completely
safe city of Mumbai. Imagine the learnings if I had moved to Singapore instead!
I am a Delhi girl, and one day I intend to move back. My
family is there, and being far from them is a punishing routine in itself.
I am a Delhi girl, and one day I intend to move back.
But when I think of returning to a life of being scared of
the dark, and half the city’s population…
