Whatever happend to sisterhood?

Sometimes I lose faith in the world.  When a woman who is old enough to be my mother sits on my lap trying to get into a seat that she is not entitled to; when a fat woman tries to push me out of the way to sit in a seat my friend vacates; when an old woman with cataracts asks me to get up, and when the seat next to her clears she tries to seat her daughter and grandkids in that seat; when that daughter tries to leap over two other woman and me to get to that empty seat; when a bus conductor pushes women like cattle to get through the bus, and when I ask  him “What the fuck do you think of yourself?”, he turns around and swears, while all the women titter and giggle; when womanhood fails and woman does not stand up for her sister, when race and language take precedence over fairness and fair play, where women laugh and share seats with men who joke and stare and spit and grope, I think I am entitled to lose faith in that world.  This failure of womanhood is rural Karnataka.  Will the world really be a better place if women rule it?  I doubt it.

Of ladies seats (08/09/07)

The bus driver was rocking out to a Kannada song on full blast and speeding down Mysore road towards Kumbulgudu.  The bus was moderately filled; since men had occupied most of the ladies seats, there were about ten women standing, Leah, Debi and myself included.

These men, in addition to occupying ladies seats, dared to shoot looks at Leah, a ‘Chinky’ as she calls herself.  She got pissed.  “What are you looking at?” she demanded.  “Can’t you see so many women standing?  Why are you in the ladies seat?”

Debi deadpanned, “They are women, that’s why”.

“Oh, you guys are women huh?  Get a bindi and a sari!”  If Leah’s looks could kill…

It was funny as hell. 

But I am for equality; if the men got there first, they deserve the seat—I am as fit as the next guy to ride the bus standing.  The only people entitled to the seat, in my opinion, are the old and infirm, people with kids, and anyone else unable to endure the bus ride standing.  But every rule has its exception.

It is a different matter when the bus is crowded.  Then, I would do anything to escape that crush of bodies—men, women, children all jumbled together in what feels like a continuous human sculpture of sweat and arms and legs, all rocking back and forth in rhythm with the bus driver’s Kannada song as his foot twitches on the brake pedal.  Then heaven help any man who sits in my ladies seat.