On being a damsel in distress

Foreword: I have been wanting to write this for two days now. Even as I landed in the airport after two days of barely any sleep, this article was on my mind. Even as I hit the bed and instantly fell into an exhausted sleep, fragments of sentences swirled around in my sleep addled head, phrases begging to be penned down, paragraphs beseeching me to bring them to life. But I still hadn't figured out how to write this diplomatically, without offending anyone, and to attempt that in a state such as I was would have been folly. Hence I waited, albeit impatiently, till I was in a more cognitive state. But today it strikes me, no matter how delicately I go about this, it might still end up being controversial, because that is the very nature of strong opinions-- there will always be someone who sees otherwise and thinks I'm wrong. Therefore, I will go ahead and make my points, with the disclaimer that I have no intention of offending anyone by writing this, but these are my very strongly held convictions. And with that, I will take you to revisit my experiences of the weekend!

It is that phase of life where everyone in my circle--acquaintances,friends, strangers even--seems to be tying the knot. Every month I get a wedding invitation, and I am left hunting for new clothes, braving Bangalore traffic, and trying to be invisible amidst hundreds of shiny-shimmery wedding guests. (I have no right to sulk about people getting married though, since I myself did recently!) All that aside, I make it a point to attend the weddings of my really close friends, because of the universal thought that it happens only once in a lifetime(hopefully ;) ) and that it is meant to be shared, witnessed and cherished by the ones you love.

The most recent invitation I received was from one of undergrad friends and I definitely considered her to be in my inner circle. Now this one presented a novel conundrum: it happened to be in a city in North India that had an infamous reputation. I will leave it unnamed for the purposes of this article, because as my readers might already be aware, I do not like reinforcing stereotypes, even if there be some truth to them. Bangalore, with all its problems is one thing, and a city in the other end of the country is quite another altogether, as I would come to realize. And so, my gang of 7 friends who were supposed to attend, instantly dwindled down, citing their parents' refusal to let them attend or other miscellaneous reasons.

In the end, there were just two of us left and we pondered over it. We had never attended a true "North Indian" wedding. And as my friend rightly pointed out, it was likely that we never would, because we weren't close enough to anyone else to warrant the journey and everything else that accompanies an out-of-town wedding. (We would probably politely decline or make an excuse, as is the socially acceptable way in these things.) Hence, we decided that we would go. After all, we reasoned, what could go wrong? We would fly in on Saturday afternoon, check in to a hotel, attend the wedding which would be post-midnight, and fly back out on Sunday morning. The city might be unsafe, but it's not like we'd be wandering around alone in the middle of the night. Little did we know what we had signed up for.

Also worth mentioning is the fact that I'm still savoring the newfound freedom that my marriage has brought me, because of the following:
1) My parents have miraculously lessened fretting about me, possibly assuming that the responsibility now falls in my husband's realm-- although I hope this isn't true, and that they worry lesser because they have more confidence in my abilities to deal with the world now.
2) My husband isn't the least bit controlling over where I go or what I do and gives me a free reign over all of this, although he does laugh at my naivete from time to time.

Both of these amalgamate to the fact that I no longer have to ask for "permission" to go anywhere and only have to "inform" people of my proposed whereabouts. That fact that my decisions are now completely my own, boy, that feeling is exhilarating, even if somewhere deep down I'm aware that the responsibility of all the consequences of those decisions are also mine. Anyway, I made up my mind to go, and my friend told her parents that she would be going with me, which was one of the factors that earned her an instant approval from them. ( I'm parent approval material looks like :P)

We booked our flight tickets, my friend the bride booked our hotel rooms, and we left it at that. A week earlier, as the event drew closer, we started poring over the tiny details. My parents anxiously tutted, warning me to be very careful and painting pictures of unfortunate incidents that could befall me. My husband was a lot less foreboding, but he repeatedly told me that it wasn't another Bangalore I was going to, and that things would be very different from what I was expecting. Well, both of them were right to some extent, but you can't blame me, because Bangalore is the only place I've lived in and known, and I've only traveled to 3 states in India(metropolitan cities mostly), and at that with parents. So my worldview is bound to be biased and limited by my experiences. My friend had a very similar background.

Come Friday, I packed my luggage, made preparations for travel and also arranged for breakfast and travel the next morning.( Look at the contrast: You only have to tell your parents that you want an early breakfast, and it magically appears the next morning. Whereas now, I have to do the conjuring and wake up early enough to don the magician's garb. Adulting is hard, ain't it?This is one of my woes, and you can expect me to rant about it soon!) It was close to midnight when I finished my work and chores, and I floppped onto the bed and set my alarm for 5am. Saturday morning dawned and yours truly was as groggy as a bear freshly roused from slumber by a wallop on its head. I consoled myself with the enticing thought that I could crash the moment we reached the hotel and set out to the airport(which is a 3 hour ordeal in my beloved city). I met my friend, and we managed to get everything right and cleared security(this was only the second time I was flying, and I had apprehensions about several things).

We got into the flight, and somehow I couldn't sleep at all. My friend was equally tired and sleepy, and we both waited for the magical moment patiently. We landed in our destination, and clutched our valuables in trepidation, hyper-alert for miscreants as we booked a cab and waited for it. We were well aware that we stood out conspicuously as tourists, and made it a point to be extra careful. Our cabbie was quite polite, we reached the hotel without incident, which by the way looked quite normal and welcoming, and I was beginning to think all the people who'd warned me were just trying to freak me out by crying wolf.

We went to the reception, and I dug out the booking confirmation mail, starting with the typical 'Hi, we have a booking...' only to be greeted by the groom himself, who was standing next to us.
'Actually, there's a problem' he began. 'We'd booked all the rooms online, and the hotel has accepted more bookings than the rooms they have' he said.
We were still processing this. 'A couple of the bride's friends are already here. Why don't you guys go to their room and freshen up while I sort this out?' he courteously offered.
We both contemplated this. These things do happen, especially with the numbers involved in a wedding, and it wasn't anyone's fault. We agreed and went up, and rang the bell at the friends' door.

We shared the same alma mater, and had the transitive friend in common, and they were courteous, friendly people. They had landed the previous day, and looked at how tired we were, and immediately offered to sit in chairs and give us the bed to rest. We sat on the bed and made small talk for a while, but that's not something I'm good at, and soon the room was silent. Our host got a call mentioning that two more of the bride's friends were on their way, and inquiring if they could come to her room too for a while. "There are already four people here" she sounded mildly annoyed, and I couldn't fault her for it. We were both dying to fall asleep, yet couldn't, because we felt like we were imposing on these people and weren't comfortable enough there.I texted my husband, whereupon he offered to book me another well-known hotel in the vicinity. I was not so sure, because this was where all the bride's friends were staying, and I didn't want us to get isolated. There was also the fact that transport was arranged from the venue to here and back, whereas that wouldn't be the case if we stayed elsewhere. So we decided not to be hasty, and waited.

An hour passed by, and our exhaustion combined with hunger and uncertainty. We had the unshakable feeling that unless we went down, nothing would happen. So we told the other two girls that we were going to the reception to check on what was happening, and headed down. The groom was now joined by the bride's brother and a cousin, and the altercation still seemed in progress. They looked at us and asked: Why are you guys here? Stay upstairs, and we'll call you when we figure it out. But we'd already done that, and so we insisted and stay put. As we heard the conversation, it struck us this hotel did not have any more vacant rooms, and the situation was irreparable. We dug out our phones and browsed, and sure enough, there was a hotel whose brand we recognized in the vicinity. Now came the problem of conveying this to these guys without making them feel bad. We tactfully tried: You must have so many other relatives to take care of. We don't want to impose on you. We'll book a room on our own and go there...

Their refusal was instant although polite. Of course not. You are our guests. We will arrange everything, don't worry. We have already paid for the hotel rooms, we're just trying to sort it out.
The situation was getting more complicated, and I felt trapped by this obligation of not offending them. We waited five more minutes, and then the brother asked us: Would you be comfortable staying 3 in a room? We have manged to arrange one more room, and if you guys don't mind, that could be a solution...

My friend immediately pointed out that we both would be split up to different rooms by this arrangement. I contemplated this, and I was honestly not at all excited about staying with strangers, because I couldn't unwind enough to relax or sleep. Secondly, 3 people in a room with 2 beds wouldn't be comfortable at all. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to refuse outright, and I hemmed and hawed. It seems that I am a people pleaser, and saying no feels so difficult in times like these. My friend finally made it easier for me, and told him we don't want to do that.

Off he went and again they discussed. Finally they came to us, and told us that they had arranged a room in another hotel that was about 600m from this one. Get your luggage, we will come there and show you to your room, they told us. The proposition brought new elements of uncertainty with it. Granted we'd have a room for the two of us. But we had no idea of how safe this hotel was. We would be the only ones staying there, isolated from the few people we knew. We were already in a new place, and these factors added to our fear. But again, we were handicapped by our conformity to authority and couldn't say a no, and went up to fetch our luggage. The other two girls were bewildered by this idea, and they strongly urged us to stay with them and not go to the new hotel. I was in a huge dilemma. Uncomfortable and safe, or comfortable and possibly unsafe? I couldn't choose.

They hailed a cycle rickshaw for us, and before we knew it, we were on the way to the second hotel, with the guys following us by bike. My friend looked up this hotel in the interim, and grew more anxious. She woefully told me: "This one looks shady, P. I'm not sure we're doing the right thing. I'm scared. What are we getting ourselves into?"
I'll admit, I wasn't very brave either, but I couldn't see what to do. Let's wait till we get to the hotel, I told her. If we still feel the same, then we'll not stay there, I consoled both of us.
We entered the hotel and felt like our fears had come true.

At the reception sat a rude surly creature, who rapped the keys on the table. A group of men clustered around, and they stared at us, as if our very presence offended us. I did not notice this, because I smelt alcohol in the vicinity, and that freaked me out enough. My friend pointed it out to me later when we were outside the room, and it petrified her: They noticed it, P. The fact that we were two girls who were going to be staying alone, the way they looked at us, I can't describe it. I don't feel safe here. Those were not good people.

The porter stepped out of the lift, and he was definitely drunk and slurred over his words. He unlocked the room and it didn't look very welcoming either- I felt claustrophobic and just wanted to run away. My friend looked at me, and I could see the same feelings echoed in her eyes. She asked the guys, Don't mind us, but how safe is this place? Are we the only people staying here?
They were quick to reassure us: It's one of the most reputed hotels here. In fact, the groom's family is staying right here(pointed out two rooms), so you don't have to worry at all.

That did not make us feel any better. We barely knew the groom, and it wasn't like we could ask his relatives for help in case something went wrong. Let's face it, they were strangers to us. Neither of us would feel safe dressing up and leaving from here, leave alone returning here in the wee hours of night. 

The moment of the truth was here. We had to say it, even if it made our hosts very uncomfortable or offended. My friend again spoke for me: Actually, we are not convinced about how safe this place is. We saw that there is this well-known hotel nearby. If you don't mind, we'd rather book that and stay there. Please don't take it the wrong way.
I don't know what out hosts thought, but they agreed. They asked us to come and have lunch at the first hotel, because they had arranged refreshments there, but we refused because we were already exhausted. We hailed an auto, thanked our hosts and apologised again, and set off to out 3rd hotel for the day.

This one, thankfully, was top notch. It was well-lit, safe and comfortable and the people were extremely courteous. I sighed in relief, familiar environs. It was a little heavy on our pockets, but if it came to the question of safety, I'd rather be safe and poor-my friend agreed. We were hungry as hell by then,(it was almost 3.30pm and we'd eaten at 6, and barely at that)and ordered a pizza, which came in half hour. Finally, stomachs full, we collapsed onto the soft bed and began to unwind. Our nerves were shot to hell, and we were borderline hysteric. Sleep was out of question. We tried hard to relax, assuring ourselves that everything was alright, and that shady creepy hotel was a thing of the past.

That's when I got really angry with myself. If you thought I wrote this article because I wanted to whine about everything that happened, you're wrong. Nor am I writing to complain about anyone or anything. Read the next couple of paragraphs carefully, because that's what I'm trying to convey.

We all have a picture of who we are. There are some variables, but we have a big picture view with some "fixed traits". My mental picture is that I'm independent, strong and decisive, with good communication skills. The last thing I see myself as is a damsel in distress looking for a knight in shining armor to rescue me. Before you jump to conclusions, let me elaborate. I am not trying to imply that I have never been in distress. I have definitely asked for and received help, several times from men. That does not make me feel powerless or weak.The difference is that I have always believed that I have agency--independent thought and the strength of mind to actualize it. Asking for help is not something I disdain, waiting around for someone else to solve my problems I definitely do.

And here I was, my actions contrasting every bit with that mental image. I had spent three hours passively sitting while someone else attempted to salvage the situation. The very thought of it filled me with such disgust and anger. What was wrong with me? I was literate, empowered and knew what to do. I had my phone and an internet connection, not to forget my wits. Why was I waiting around waiting for someone else to call the shots? Why did I fear to speak my mind, thinking a hundred times if it would offend someone? Why did I defer authority to the 'guys', ascribing to the very notion of patriarchy I aspired to overcome? The dainty clueless damsel that I had been for the past two hours filled me with loathing.

That's when it hit me. Although my ideals were in the right place, my experiences had cloistered my independence of action. When I traveled with parents, although I made some of the arrangements, most of it was taken care of. And now my husband, has unconsciously continued that habit, and we have both fallen into that rut of pattern. There were a thousand nuances that they took care of for me, and I never even noticed them. I always felt safe, and I happily flitted around, enjoying the sights and food, oblivious to the enormous responsibility that lay underneath. 

Today, each of those nuances of responsibility were mine, and I felt the weight of them. I did not despair at that, but I wanted to bear them regally. I did not want to fall into the stereotype of the helpless woman, even if it be unwittingly, deferring to her family/husband for most of these things. I was glad I had traveled solo for once, because I now know what it takes. I am also aware of how blessed I have been this last quarter century of my life, in that my parents and husband have not only done these things for me, but also never once made me aware of it. (Although to be honest, that last part makes me a little resentful, because had they done so, I'd be more aware and independent today.) 

I realized that the prospects didn't scare me or limit me, but only wanted me to be more, do more and widen my horizons. Throughout my trip were moments like this, where I was bewildered and out of my element, and I learned immensely from them. One worth mentioning was the journey back to the hotel. We decided that we couldn't stay any longer at the wedding around 1am, and a normal cab seemed way too unsafe. We decided to ask the hotel to send one of their cabs, and that was an arduous process. I had to call multiple times, deal with explaining the location to someone who wasn't familiar with 'maps' and finally explain that we were leaving to an aghast set of guys at 3am when our cab arrived. I won't lie, I felt very patronised by their reactions, although I do understand that they could have been concerned about safety. We ourselves were a little scared, and carefully tracked the route on maps to ensure we weren't been taken anywhere else. This was the first time in my life I'd felt that way(which goes to show how sheltered it has been), where I had knew actual fear, to wonder about what it would be like if things went wrong. Thankfully, the trip ended without further incident, and I came home exhausted but enlightened. 

To all the womenfolk reading this, especially the ones who've had a protected existence quite like my own, I entreat you, be more independent. Broaden your horizons, question your mental image- Are you really everything you think you are? How well does that scale up? You might be flourishing in your current environment-- but will you be able to manage in another unfamiliar one? If these questions make you uneasy and restless, and leave you feeling inadequate, then it's time to up your game. Start by doing everything on your own. If you defer to an authority figure, shadow them and observe what they do and how they go about it. Take over the reigns every now and then. Do not sit around passively waiting for someone to be your knight. What do you need a knight for? You are all you need- a woman is a synonym for strength and not weakness. But unless you get out of that shell of protection and love and comfort, you will never realize your fullest potential and the patriarchy of this world shall continue to suppress you. Your key to freedom is your independence and your agency. I urge you not to give that up, even if it be to someone you love. Be your own person!

I have something to say to all the men and parents out there who shelter women too. I know your actions are out of nothing but good intentions. But in doing so, you leave us unequipped and clueless for the battles of the future. Start by making us aware of all that you do, point out the nuances to us. After a while, those of us so inclined will offer to take up those responsibilities. Do not refuse us then. Let us grow into truly empowered women. We both deserve that.

P.S: This trip, as I said, has been quite enlightening. I am very glad for all that it has taught me. I shall endeavor to be more responsible, to fit more closely into my mental image of who I should be. I would like to thank my parents and better half, for making my life so very easy by shouldering all this responsibility up until now. I now know how much it takes, despite how effortless you guys make it seem. I aspire to be that way one day--experienced enough that what I now see as an ordeal becomes effortless. Here's to that day! :)

P.P.S: A special mention to my husband for not freaking out instantly when I texted him(this was after the first hotel) and calling me or yelling at me or telling me what he thought I should do. He offered to help and told me to ask him whatever I needed whenever I needed it, and then waited patiently. I did not ask for help though, because it had already annoyed me that I was being a "damsel"( I scorn the very word), and found a solution in my own time. I reached out to him after and recounted the whole ordeal, and he did not laugh at me or mock me. He understood and told me that it was okay, that everyone goes through these things, and that I shouldn't blame myself because I ultimately figured it out. And that reaffirms the fact that I chose wisely and well. I have someone who's wise enough to support me by letting me take my own decisions while also being there for me, and not by interfering and making me feel immature and childish. You earned brownie points, Mister! ;)