How I survive Delhi or A Practical Woman's Guide to Delhi By Shutapa Paul I wanted to shift to New Delhi soon after finishing school way back in 2002. I remember my Kolkata-born and raised mother throwing a fit. She refused to eat, talk or even look me in the face. My father was charged with encouraging his darling daughter's silly ambitions. My mother didn't want me to study in the 'rape capital' of India and, by the way, was perfectly alright with me pursuing my acting dreams in Bombay (ahem!). Thankfully the latter didn't fructify. Instead I offered mom an olive branch, studied English in Kolkata and then took off to study journalism in the country's best J-school based in Chennai. But Delhi was destined, one way or the other.
New Delhi is the heart of the country. Love it or hate it, you must, must, live a few years in it. Especially if you are a journalist. Not that you actually make much of a dent in the decision-making, but when you do, that high is hard to define. The city is a curious, delicious melting pot of people from different backgrounds, habits and behaviours that stand out because of their varying degrees of loudness! Delhi is a loud city.
But it can also be creepily dark, lonesome and silent. I have travelled to all the major Indian cities and only Delhi can boast of being the worst lit. If as chief minister I had as many cases of violence against women in my city, I would seriously start with better illumination of street corners and roads. But that's for another blog post.
I have survived almost six years in the capital divided between two stints. Save for one recent incident of my bag being snatched from a moving auto, I have had no untoward incidents. (I'm inclined to use the cliched 'touchwood' and I will) You survive Delhi, the actual living comes later. It's a harsh city with extremes of weather and an overdose of testosterone. So why did I not face any assault? Was the city safer for me? Not really.
May be I have been lucky, but I think it's mainly because I learned very early on how to survive this city. This was during a short vacation to Delhi over a decade ago. I had taken a bus along with my best friend to go to Connaught Place for lunch. It was a completely empty bus with couple of other passengers.
Since it must always be told what the girl was wearing...I was wearing a sleeveless top and jeans. A burly man who looked like he hadn't shaved for days stood next to where I was seated. He reeked of stale alcohol. Within a few minutes, he started brushing his crotch against my bare arm. I thought it was an accident and moved closer towards my friend. He did it again and again. This time I shouted and asked him to step back and stop what he was doing. He looked at me menacingly, smirked and brushed his crotch against my arm again. I stood up and called out to the ticket collector and complained. The TC did nothing. My assaulter, a perverted excuse for a human being, went to the back of the bus for a few minutes and came right back to his earlier position and action. My friend and I got off the bus with me almost in tears. That day was my 18th birthday and I'll never forget it. I thought I would never return to this strange, crude place. But I did a few years later, if only to exorcise the ghosts of my Delhi fears.
Years have passed and now I am a journalist in Delhi and I often keep unearthly hours. I'm also a single woman living on my own. For the last six months I have had a car and feel much safer but having a vehicle is hardly a deterrent. Look at what happened to Soumya Vishwanathan. Mind you, I'm fiercely independent, a vocal advocate of women's rights and freedoms but I'm also practical. In a place like Delhi, and in fact in most parts of the world, practicality works better than bravado or foolhardiness. So I have my list of do's and don'ts.
1) I'm careful about where I go and with whom. I plan my travel and (unfortunately) also what I wear. Even if I have a car, I always carry a stole or a shrug or a jacket if going to a party. Yes, it's one extra thing to carry but trust me, it helps. 2) I never ever fall asleep in the car, no matter who's dropping me, a cab driver, my own driver or even a friend. 3) I don't trust mobile-app only cab services. The dirt cheap rates haven't enticed me. I choose my safety over money and have booked cabs from the registered radio cab list or from my neighbourhood 'kaali-peeli' or yellow taxi service where I know most of the drivers. 4) I stay away from unknown parts of Delhi and its hinterlands. If it's going to be a late night, I pay my driver enough to ensure that he stays back with me. And yes, my driver, maid, ironing guy, cleaning staff have been verified by the police. I don't see the harm in it. After all, even I have been verified by the cops as a bonafide tenant. 5) I speak to friends or my mother over the telephone in case I'm unsure of the driver. 6) I follow google maps and keep an eye on the road that the driver is taking and more often than not, at night I insist he take the route I know rather than a short-cut. 7) I click taxi number pictures and send to a designated friend. 8) My friends keep a tab on my movements in case they know I'm travelling alone. I do the same for them. 9) My next door neighbour has become a good friend and we keep an eye on each other's homes. 10) I carry a pepper spray on most occasions.
As a kid, my mother always asked me to look angry when I am travelling alone. That'll keep the no-gooders at bay, she said. So at times I have a don't-mess-with-me-else-I'll-crush-your-b***s look. (Not sure if this works) But just for good measure, I know a bit of karate too.
Women have to exercise caution till they get a level playing field. Till that happens there are steps that can protect us especially when the police and administration fail us. Why exactly do we celebrate Women's Day? We are not free yet. So tread cautiously, ladies.
