Female Fundas

Designer is the key word. From dresses to diamonds, the women had all the right labels. Designer boredom and designer boyfriends also seemed to be part of the get up. Woman after woman was pointed out to me by the man she was seeing or ignoring. quot;That8217;s Jeh Wadia8217;s girlfriend. Oh, that one is Marc8217;s ex8230;quot; They had the elegant andextremely blase8217; act down perfect. The only enthusiasm exhibited was by the smattering of men who had come out of the closet and were determined not to go back in. Dressed outrageously they took over the dance floor and boogied while the women looked on indulgently. I discovered there was one other sure way to tell the townies from the 8216;burbites. They were the ones who suppressed small shudders and said, quot;Oh Andheri! God, I8217;d never live there.quot; I call it the Shobha Syndrome. After years of Lokhandwala being a thriving happening township, Ms De discovers8217; it and is pleasantly surprised. Get a life Shobha! One that goes beyond a little patch of Cuffe Parade.

Suburban life boasts it8217;s own peculiar feminine types. There are the media makers 8212; directors, editors, actresses, programme executives and so on. Here the dress code is work-oriented, invariably ethnic and comfortable. The conversation is obsessively film and television based, and the views strong and loud. I confess I love it, though the SO runs amile from gatherings of this sort. Unfortunately, he doesn8217;t seem to have much choice since the only other option to be found in vast numbers seem to be teenage party-boppers. These all follow religiously the current fashion trend that insists you must look like you climbed out of a garbage can dressed in crumpled clothes left over from your father8217;s youth. For some reason, nylon velvet and artificial satin are the rage and so are shoes that make you look like you8217;re wearing a prosthesis. You can find them techno-tripping in J49, or the Razz Rhino. Ah Youth! I wonder what kind of women they8217;ll grow up into?

But forget the party circuits across the Great Divide. Forget the women that we belong to. Take a look at the women that belong to Bombay. What I love doing is taking a long train ride from Andheri to Churchgate in the women8217;s compartment and just looking. Take a look at all the faces heading in for one more day of work 8212; most probably clerical, repetitive and unrewarding. Watch them at night as theyshell peas and clean vegetables on the way home so that they can get dinner done on time. Stand at the doorway with the fisherwomen as they share tobacco and their own raucous jokes. Feel the camaraderie that comes from sharing the struggle for survival. There is a reason that you can buy anything from pins to pomegranates on the local trains 8212; it8217;s the only time these women can snatch to shop. Join them in the unending lines for a bus or an auto. Watch them disappear into the city depths. Their lives are designed around the seven o8217;clock bus, the nine o8217;clock local, their children, their husbands, their job. They don8217;t live in Cuffe Parade and don8217;t dream of doing that either. Mother Courage catches the Fast from Andheri every morning.

I don8217;t think designer is sexy. I think gutsy is. Except for momentary lapses at cosmetic parties 8212; thank god the SO agrees!

Venita Coelho is a television scriptwriter.