Sunday 6 August 2017

TROUBLING QUESTIONS

So my friend from another city texted me in the morning saying that she’ll be in my town, and would I like to catch up for coffee? I of course, jumped at the opportunity. Well you know, living like a cavewoman for four months now, completing my dissertation and all, I could do with a bit of fresh air and actual face-to-face talk. I texted her saying, ‘Definitely! What a lovely way to wake up J’. I looked up from the screen of my mobile phone, at the clock on my study table that told me that in another three quarters of an hour it would stop being morning, at least in my part of the world. I had slept fitfully, my mind plagued by dishonest words and my spirit weighed down by broken promises.

But today was going to be a glorious day! As I stretched, dang! My eyes fell on my legs. Or were they really mine, they certainly did not look the part. There was thick fur on them and I’m not exaggerating. The white skin which we Indians are so proud to possess and flaunt, was covered in hair so thick that I could braid it. So what do I wear now? All my custom-made summer dresses that I had brought from my recent trip to India, were wallowing in neglect in my cupboard, when day after day I had pulled out a comfortable pair of pajamas and a sweat-shirt, my work clothes for getting all the writing done. Believe you me, when I say that 5 denier stockings did nothing to conceal my body hair and add an unnatural sheen to my legs. Besides it is summer, I cannot, to save my life, wear denser tights. No amount of make-up can hide the hair of my face too, that is why I change my profile picture the day I get a bleach and threading done.

Living in India, I had taken these things for granted. It was always easier and cheaper to look freshly scrubbed and squeaky clean. Had I been in my city now and meeting a friend for coffee, I would be wondering if my dress was appropriate or would it get me undue attention, and god knows what trouble? Because last night I came across a newspaper report that talked of a woman DJ being chased by drunk men at midnight, in my very own city. A Facebook post urged netizens to show support for the woman and somehow prevent the influential men walking out scot-free. It’s that easy, sadly but true.

So while living here(Durham, UK), the matters that drive me up the wall are about my body hair and looking civilised, women in my city are tackling questions if it is safe for them to leave work a little later?

A realisation dawned upon me and I texted my friend, ‘But all the cafés close by five in the evening.’ She replied, ‘So, we’ll have a drink.’