Trouble

My car's idling at yet another traffic signal. I'm stuck at the red lights for the third time already. I want to whack someone, yell my lungs out at the bumbling rickshaw ahead to move his rickety ride, godammit! Traffic in Mumbai can test the patience of a saint. Just as I was thinking of new ways to vent my anger, John-McEnroe-style, there's a knock on the car's window. I roll the windows down and see a suave, criminally gorgeous fella - smile on his lips, hope in his eyes. I had a sullen look on my face and swiftly try to repair it, replacing it with mild incredulity. "Yeah?" I manage. "Are you going to Malad?" he asks me. Incredulity is now replaced with disbelief. That's the last thing I ever expected him to say. I continue to give him a dumb look. "Could you give me a ride to Malad, please?" he persists. 'Yes, yes yes!' my mind shrills. I mean c'mon! He's a Greek God, for crying out loud. I would be but a mortal fool to refuse. I began to reply in the affirmative. And then, swift as lightening, a voice creeps into my head. It is the voice cultivated out of years of education that is indoctrinated into every girl. 'You fool,' it admonishes. 'Are you out of your mind? Don't you know that thing they say about talking to strangers? This guy could look like a fashion model right off the rampwalk, but that doesn't mean he couldn't be a mugger. Or a rapist. Or a serial killer. Or a psychopath. Or a dangerous combination of all. Refuse right away! And roll up those windows. Lock your doors. Yell out loud if Greek God lashes out. Do you have a sharp object that you could use? A knife, a filer, a scissor? Nothing? ARRRGH!'

I draw a deep breath. Had I let that control-freak-of-a-voice possess me, I would have been classified as a nutty oddball and landed myself in a room full of padded walls. Instead, a calm voice takes over. "I'm awfully sorry," I say, "but I have friends to pick up at the next signal. I can't help you." Greek God looks dejected. "Its okay," he politely says and moves away to search for alternatives. I kick myself. Had I not been a girl, I would never have faced this quandary. What does that station master say in Jab We Met? Akeli ladki ek khuli tijori ki tarah hoti hai. Sad (and slightly crude) stereotype. Substantiated by countless horror stories of women being victims of brutal crimes, simply because they were careless or just plain unlucky. No matter how well trained you are in self-defense or are Wonder Woman yourself, you don't go around talking to strangers, even if it means genuinely helping a person in need. You don't take risks. That's what we are told, and most of us dutifully follow.

Not that I regret I was born a girl. It doesn't matter much whether you are from Mars or Venus, not in today's world anyway. However, more often than not, we become subjects of stereotype, which forms the basis of gender prejudice. You're a girl. So it is presumed you are weak and vulnerable. No late nights, no traveling alone, no talking to strangers. I find it highly regressive; although, it would be premature to conclude that the premise behind these restrictions is entirely wrong. Some of us may know how to take care of ourselves. There are countless women who party late at night, travel to far-flung destinations alone or can confidently handle a conversation with a stranger, without getting the heebie-jeebies. Good for them; I wish there were more of their kind. But maybe, just maybe, our parents are right Maybe that voice in our heads, control-freak or not, has some credibility. You can't push your luck too far. Its an insane world out there, increasingly unsafe for women. And sometimes, perhaps just sometimes, you need to take a step back. Even if you're raring to go. Take precautions. always. Better to be safe than sorry. After all, its only for your own good, as our parents love to say :)