Pink Buses……

The bus was jam-packed with people. I wondered where the whole wide world was heading on a lazy Sunday morning. I’d rather they stay at their homes and spend time with families. 

The hot summer air and stuffiness in the crammed bus was getting onto my nerves. But what irked me more was the presence of men sticking onto me; by chance or by choice, I’d rather not speculate.

 The destination was still an hour away and I happened to be one of those lucky folks who got a seat. As I sat there lost in thoughts and playing out my version of the day ahead in my head, I felt something on my arm. (I was wearing a half sleeved top.) In a flash of a second, my imagination ran wild, thanks to the record of experiences I have had on public transport buses.

 Trying to figure out what’s touching my arm, I looked at the man standing close to me. Nothing. It was just the flap of his shirt below the last button. He stood facing me and the forces in the bus pushed him to stand so close to me. I twitched in my seat, tried to move in, move forward to the edge. Each time that piece of cloth touched me, I’d get the jitters.

I kept looking up at his face from time to time…also at the part of the shirt making me feel uncomfortable.      

  

The entire journey passed with me counting every tick of time. The bus reached its destination, also mine…Majestic bus station. I stepped down into yet another “testosterone-charged” environment which tickled my senses and hormones within me behaved weirdly, none of which felt good. I wondered why is it that the sight of opposite gender, their massive presence annoyed me. No answer. Or maybe, no single right answer “jisko lock kiya jaye”.

I met my friend. And we continued our journey and conversations together.

Me: You know what I’d do first, if I reached a position of power where I could change things in the city or state? I will introduce buses exclusively for women.

My friend looked at me with the least amount of respect I’d ever seen on his face for me. Not that I was expecting him to pat me on my back and appreciate my efforts for the “greater good” of my gender, but this was the most unexpected response.

He: I will be the first one to stone that bus.

Whoa!! Now that was not what I was looking for.

He: why do you want to start a bus exclusively for women?

I had my answers clear and sorted out this time.

Me: Because I want them to travel comfortably, without having to put up with hands that can’t stay put and x-ray vision eyes that glare at them.

He: Just because you cannot deal with it, you cannot run away or introduce buses for yourselves. This is not revolution, this is ESCAPISM.

“ESCAPISM” !!…that word kept ringing in my ears. Every cell in my body screamed.

I swear if it was not him, I would have hit this guy sitting next to me, throwing shit at my self-esteem.

Me: If you had a daughter, would you say all this to her?

He: Of course, I would say the same to my daughter. If she doesn’t face it, she’s not my daughter.

For the person I knew he was, I was sure he meant what he said. I respected him for that statement.

I tried to lighten it up and stood firm on my decision to roll out buses for women.

Me: So, you’ll stone one of my buses. What would you do if I bring out a fleet of buses for women?

The response was instant. He never had second thoughts, I guess.

He: I’d buy a quarry for myself and keep stoning all your buses!!!

I broke out into laughter. I’m not very sure if I was a little irritated with him, but I laughed my hearts out.

……………………………………………………………………………………

On the bus journey back home, I thought about what he’d told me. Is it escapism? A faint voice inside me agreed it truly was escapism. The voice inside me raised a question, “Why do we have to move away to separate buses? Why is it that we cannot share the space with men? We do not have to move away or compromise because somebody else can’t get their hormones and thoughts sorted out.”

Well, agreed.

Bingo! I got another idea. I messaged him.

Me: I’m not going to start buses for women. I’m going to start self- defense classes and encourage girls and women to take it up. What say?

He: that’s more like it J

So, there ends my aspiration for buses for unfortunate women who cannot give it back…there ends the saga of my “pink buses” even before it began.

I’d rather we share the same public space and fight back when it is encroached upon…not move away comfortably. What say??