Ladies Only - A peek into the DMRC's women-only coach

A 20-minute trip in Delhi Metro’s Ladies Coach yesterday proved to be quite an enjoyable ride indeed. The occasion being Karwa Chauth, I even saw a couple of women blowing at their hands to dry the intricate henna some pavement artisan had no doubt painstakingly applied. The women looked happy - sharing anecdotes, sitting comfortably with one another, their oversized bags lying languidly on the coach floor.

All this looked a far cry from the scene twenty odd days ago – when they had to rub shoulders with the city’s mensfolk – and in the process, contend with constant staring, obnoxious lip-smacking sounds, eve-teasing, lascivious things murmured into ears, pinching of rears, and the occasional but very deliberate groping or ‘accidental’ brushing of an arm against their sensitive parts.

While the women enjoyed the controlled cooling in their allotted coach, the men from the adjoining coach cast looks at them – some woebegone, other envious, while some others cast looks of pure venom and red-faced fury. All the while jostling for space, the feeling akin to being a trussed-up sardine in a can with many others of its ilk.

An unsuspecting man strolled into the coach, only to be shooed away by the many women – who went up in collective peals of laughter when the alarmed man beat a hasty retreat, disappearing in a huff.

An elderly gentleman was however, immediately made to sit, bringing a smile to his weary eyes. As was a wide-eyed 8 year-old boy, who shyly stood behind his mother, his right hand trustingly in hers.

A couple of boisterous college-goers boarded the Metro, stepping in smartly into the all-ladies coach. Despite repeated protests from the womenfolk, they flippantly replied that they would be alighting at the next station. The next station didn’t prove to be that lucky for them though – as a pot-bellied, stern policeman marched them off to the side to perhaps collect the Rupees 200 penalty for riding in the women’s coach. I’m guessing they wouldn’t be repeating the same in a hurry.

Women of various ages, dressed in sarees, dapper business suits, comfortable kurtas and salwars, some in their tighter cousins – churidars, while yet some in jeans and skirts – made eye-contact with their fellow companions. Smiles were exchanged when one caught sight of an exquisite neck piece there, or a particularly pretty bangle.

Not a word was exchanged – and yet it was all too palpable – the collective feeling of contentment at their own private space.

With perhaps the additional joy of being among other lavender-talc-ed folks...

Ba(n)g On!

Why women need bags (and big ones at that) is beyond the comprehension of most men.
I don’t blame them for their unawareness - simple, uncomplicated people that they are.

On a typical day, your average guy leaves with three things – his wallet, phone and keys. And maybe a handkerchief. That's all they need, and they cant go wrong with them.

Women on the other hand, need their emergency survival gear. So besides the customary wallets-phone-keys-pens-gloss-kohl-fume-sunglasses-keys-tissues-tampons, a lot of other items also make their way merrily into those bags.

Like dogs for instance. Blonde heiresses place their pocket dogs into their plush croc-leather bags, and sway happily into their much-frequented swish malls.

Bags are the first thing one reaches out when one is in dire need of a tissue and feels the urge to cry / sneeze / cough / dissolve into guffaws.

Of course, the constantly-replenished contents of the bag have other uses too...

Sample these...

Loverboy feeling hungry? Out come a half-nibbled bar of chocolate, some chewies, a pack of spearmint, an energy snack, and a couple of toffees.

Need to get yourself clicked for an ID at work? – Just reach out for your bag – those Polaroid pics are literally begging to be taken out.

Sister’s hands look like a dry and bumpy road in a desert? – help is at hand – just hand her that tube of silky-soft hand lotion to squeeze out and smoothen on.

Cousin’s throat feeling scratched? Lozenges appear as if by magic, in both the flavours he likes.

Body feeling feverish? The strip of paracetamol is handy.

Colleague’s got a chipped nail – hand over the filer to an eternally-grateful her (and be rest assured that next time you need some help with the goddamned presentation you are trying to create, she is sure to ‘chip in.’)

Best friend had a chicken nugget too many? The satchet of Alka-Seltzer is waved cheerily into his / her face.

College mate needs to jot down the digits of the gorgeous stranger at the party? And is scribbling them on the palm of his hand? – Sheeesh! Hand the joker those yellow sticky pads instead.

Stalker following you yet again? The hammer and the rolling pin could do with some airing (and use)(ok ok – I admit, I got carried away)…

Of course, there are those occasions when I consider my bag to be some dark abyss which constantly keeps swallowing the contents. What else can explain the zillion pens, nail filers, clips, lipsticks and miniature perfumes that have gone into it, and vanished nto the cosmos from it?

Nonetheless – the oversized, spilling-its-contents-bag does have its fair share of benefits (and loyalists). And I, the die-hard advocate that I am, cannot for the life of me comprehend how women can make-do with teeny-weeny ones. Totally beats me, that one!

And yet, I still have some who shake their heads disbelievingly when they look at my Mary Poppins bag. They nudge each other, point, tut-tut, click their tongues, roll their eyes, and ask me if thet should expect a genie to jump out of it any minute…

High time I started showing them all those heads I've chopped off and collected...

Dash in a flash....

The other day a guy friend told me about the vanities of the female sex.

And about the more than ample time on their prettily-manicured hands to pander to these vanities.

Point in question – St. Petersburg hosted a run for women wearing...

Hold your horses, all you pervs out there.

The participants had to wear stilettos, with a minimum height of 9 cms (3.5 inches).

And if you thought that most would turn up their pretty noses at the event, think again.

More than a hundred Russian women turned up, to sweat it out for this 100-meter High-Heel Race.

What were they all running for, you might ask?

The prize was a $2,000 shopping-spree.

Not bad, eh?

Now if only they would hold such stuff here in India, I’m sure quite a few of my friends would sprint it out...

Put Your Best Foot Forward

The humble kolha-puris, beaded sandals, and flip-flops are fast making a disappearance.

Well, maybe I'm exaggerating a tad bit, but hey, wherever I cast a look, I can see a whole spate of footwear, many of which I am sure I don't even know the names of.

Trendier versions are all the rage(not that I am complaining); and here I am not talking only about the killers - stilletos.

Today's footwear, especially for women, has come of age. And how!

Whatever the occasion, you have appropriate shoes that fit both your soles, as well as the wallet you carry.

You and I are spoilt for choice - the dainty ones can choose from Mary Janes, ballerina shoes(a fast catching-on trend, what with all the Tinas, Dianas, and Harriets, wearing them to every possible place), as well as peep toes.

Thick ankles? Worry not - go buy yourself a pair of wedges(available in that mall yonder, the supermarket, the neighborhood shoe-store, and its neighbor).

More of an office person?

Madame, pumps and mules are right up your street.

Choose from the perennial black, brown, beige, or white.

Have that crinkly, flowy skirt, and clueless as to what to team it with to that weekend party? Loads of boots out there - choose from any of these - go-go boots, ugg boots, cowboy boots( A word of caution: avoid the stilletoed-version in colors like fuschia pink, scarlet, aubergine, flurescent green / yellow, unless you want to give the impression of a dominatrix or a street-walker).

Hitting the gym? You are bound to be spoilt with all the sports companies vying with each other to coax you into buying their trainers.

If heels are as appealing to you as meat to a vegan, there is absolutely no reason for you to be dismayed.

The footwear industry boasts of espadrilles, and Chuck Taylors, available at any Converse outlet, in various eye-popping colors.

Platforms are another type(but since I have an aversion to seeing them, either adorning display windows of showrooms or on the feet of women), I woon't write a thing about them, except that they look obnoxious to me.

Whew! Now that I've let the steam off, I can continue with this post :-)

Stilletos, when teamed with killer outfits, besides looking pretty weapons of mass destruction , can also turn into neat weapons of self-protection. (Here the clunky, chunky platforms can also be given a note of mention). Soome jerk annoying you like hell? Wham! Off with your footwear, and teach him a good lesson. Don't just brandish the heels, use them, ladies.

And a last word before I end this post - if you are one of those who stagger, all wobbly-legged like Bamby the deer, on those impossibly-high heels, making people around you, giggle, do yourself a favor - get kitten heels.

They might not boast of those killer heels, but then, your peds will be grateful, believe me. Besides, kitten-heels look classy, you look as if you have experimented with heels, and you can walk around in them for ages, without wincing each time you take a step.

Go on, step out in style.