A Coach of One’s Own: An Ode to the Ladies Dabba in Delhi Metro

A young girl wearing skinny jeans and a top, with a casual bag and a little junk jewellery gets off the rickshaw and enters the metro station. She gets herself frisked at the ladies security check, uses a prepaid smart card to check-in, and waits at the ‘women only’ side of the platform marked in pink before entering the ladies coach.

On the face of it, this is how I as a middle-class woman have experienced the DMRC almost every day to travel for my education and work since the last four years.

In an attempt to follow my past interest in locating gender in public transport, I took part in undergoing a field trip with my Literary Journalism class. This assignment made me realise that the ladies coach has been more of a personal life coach for me. All the puns intended.

The day was 6/9 and news had just broken out that Section 377 of the Constitution has been repealed. As my class was waiting at Gate No. 7 of Kashmere Gate metro station, I instinctively congratulated our instructor upon the SC’s judgement, only to be met with a pause. After reverting back the congratulatory wish to the entire class, he looked at me and said, “Celebrate yes, but don’t let it deflect your attention away from other things.” Oh, so maybe the world doesn't really change overnight for women and other genders.

As we make our way inside, to go to the last station of Escorts Mujesar on the Violet line, I enter the ladies coach out of habit despite mentally psyching myself earlier that day to enter the general coach on the pretext of the assignment. I find a seat near the periphery of the two coaches, and take out my little spiral notebook to jot down anything and everything I find worthy of thought and reflection.

The DMRC ladies coach accomodates around 361 commuters (43 seating and 318 standing).* However one can generally find more than 43 women sitting, even in a congested way as they do not have to worry about minding the body distance as they do in the presence of men. While we were moving towards progressiveness with 377 being out now, but a woman must still look left and right before taking a seat in the metro.

Soon an old lady appeared clad in a saree with her pallu covering her head. She was accompanied by a little girl no more of 10 years of age. I ask her if she wants to sit, preparing to get up. But she held out her hand and politely refused with a beaming smile. Her face contrasted with that of the entire coach who looked as morose as a child whose parents didn't let them adopt a puppy.

The lady next to me got up as her station had arrived, and the old lady sat next to me, and the girl standing near her lap. The little one saw me noting down the logistics of our trip with the corner of her eye. I bent a bit to reach her height and playfully asked her what she’s looking at. She giggled nervously and shook her head.

Photo Credit: Veni Ethiraj

“Aap school jaate ho?” my inquisitive self had awaken in this field trip. She shook her head in the negative. “Kyu?” I asked softly. I saw her smile fade a bit, and she just looked at me for a while before turning away. After two minutes, when I again saw her stealing glances at my notebook, I promptly opened the last page which was blank and held out the pen in my hand out to her. “Chalo main aaj aapko drawing sikhati hu.” I smiled and offered. Much to my dismay, she instantly gave the same reaction she’d been giving me all this while: giggled, refused, and now buried her face in the lady’s lap who I learnt later was her grandmother. Wondering if I’m scaring her with all these big questions, I decide to give it a rest for a while. I just remarked to the lady that I too was equally shy as the little girl when I was a child. The girl looked up to her grandmother, they locked eyes and smiled warmly at each other.

Photo Credit: Veni Ethiraj

As the train moved over-ground and the bright afternoon sunlight lit up the inside of the coach, I felt the mood of the people in my coach lighten around me. The girl had started acting playful around me, although it was still difficult to get her to talk to me. But I was very quick to realise that even initiating the conversation (whenever the rare time occurred of me doing so) was something I was only capable of doing in the ladies coach with other women. This kind of a community formation is something I cannot really imagine with a random man unless I had a very good and formal reason of doing so, otherwise the fear always lingers that it would be misconstrued in the wrong way. I wonder how and if the same applies when the genders are interchanged.
 

Meanwhile, I noticed a group of college girls that came in front of my seat and happily chatted away with each other- talking about boys while sharing a small packet of Kurkure. The ladies coach is no stranger to this little glimpse of sisterhood away from the male gaze. Of women gathered around each other, sitting on the floor laughing unabashedly, sharing food, and pouting for selfies without any hesitation; even doing their makeup or breastfeeding in peace. The ability to do all these things without being self-conscious lends to a casual atmosphere.

“Aurat hi aurat ki sabse badi dushman hoti hai.”? #NotAllWomen

But some men are definitely guilty of raining on our parade. Just four days after my field trip Hindustan Times published a report of how in 2017, 2081 men were caught travelling in the designated women’s coach despite there being a special security force unit employed at prime interchange stations like Kashmere Gate, Rajiv Chowk, Noida, and Inderlok to manage the crowd.

That is in addition to at least three pink floral signage on the platform. There is also a regular announcement in the coaches where male passengers are "requested" not to board the coach reserved for ladies and that “doing so is a punishable offence”, which amounts to Rs. 250 as specified in the information boards at the station.

I feel dismayed that how amongst all the other numerous coaches practically dominated by men, I often find the coach right beside the women’s coach the most crowded especially on the Red Line. Even if they don’t enter, one can always find men standing on the border of the ladies coach continuously staring at women to pass their time and a crowd of men spilling right into the first car on crowded days.

                              

 Wall Art outside Malviya Nagar Metro Station.

Artist Credit: Unknown

But why this unconditional love for the ladies coach and this protectiveness from these space invaders, you ask? Because this is a rare moment of a private space for women in the public transport, the first in Delhi if I may say so.

I remember how while returning back home, a woman requested me to tie the strings of her backless kurti which had come undone. And how another woman removed her jacket and just stretched her arms out in a noodle-strap crop top after a long tiring day. Yes, there was the occasional aunty who peers at you with moral judgement, and I find it irritating. But it is nowhere near the absolute threat of when a man looks at me. After all, there is a threat and there is the threat.

The first car in the moving direction is reserved for ladies, and I am so glad it is. Maybe it is called 'Reservation' because so many people almost always have their own reservations about it. 

But it is in this very space where I found my capacity to vocally protest as a woman for the very first time in my entire life. Yes, not in a street protest, not in a classroom setting, but in the ladies dabba. The ease and unprecedented authority with which I found myself routinely policing any male sightings for entering the ladies coach felt so extraordinary.

Stronger Together GIF by Laura Salaberry

But how is this different from other transport like a bus for example which also has the affirmative action of reserved seats for women? While travelling by bus, even protesting harassment is difficult. Since the co-passengers are mostly men, the female victim is not lent much support and it becomes more of an embarrassment than an effective means of redressal. Also, the offenders in a bus could easily make a dash for the road and run away out of our catch. In this sense, the metro is relatively a more controlled space with gun-toting guards present at every entry-exit point. The efficiency, well, is up for debate. But the mechanism is nevertheless there.

While it is also not always the case that other women echo the concerns of the victim in the metro, but in the ladies coach, they’re always in the majority. With these male passengers being a minority amongst all these other women, I get to experience what being in a dominant group feels like and the kind of strength it lends you.

This is probably how the men of the world feel all the time, I realise, as they majorly occupy most of the public spaces at any time of the day.

Though it is an artificial space as we have to eventually de-board and participate in real life gender dynamics, but the provision of the ladies coach and the momentary symbolic power it lends has translated into something more tangible: it has made me a little more bold to stand up for myself as a woman even on the road now, and a little less fearless to loiter around the city. 

 

*Shelly Tara, 'Locating Gender in the Delhi Metro' (2011) EPW.