It’s a Jungle Out There

‘‘Before I moved to Mumbai, my fears centred around the riots, the underworld and the trains. In that order,’’ says Gayathri Chandrasekaran, 23, a sub-editor with Tinkle who moved to the big city a year ago after her post-graduate degree in Pune. ‘‘But I also knew it was a really cool place. I was wary in the beginning — it is such a big city. But I picked up very fast, the trains and all that. Now I am very comfortable travelling around.’’

Pampa Biswas (27), a fashion merchandiser, hails from Varanasi and lived in Kolkata for a while before moving to Mumbai four years ago. ‘‘There was a lot of harassment of women in Kolkata. I didn’t like to venture out alone. When I moved here, it took me just a month to fit in. People were really helpful. Except for one horrific experience (when I couldn’t disembark from a Virar-bound train because of the rush), Mumbai has been good to me. Often, if there’s a buyer in town, I take taxis as late as at 1.30 in the night. Nothing has ever happened.’’

Nida Faruqui (22), a designer with Sheetal, though hasn’t been that bold. ‘‘I haven’t tried travelling alone late. I feel slightly scared,’’ says Nida, who moved from Hyderabad, where she was studying, two-and-a-half months ago. ‘‘And I have been reading all that’s happening in the newspapers. Each time I travel by train, I think about it. I would definitely give travelling alone in the night in the train a second thought. I would do it only if there is no other option.’’

Her friends say that Mumbai is not that scary at night. ‘‘There are so many lights and once you know the way, you are confident that nothing will happen,’’ says Gayathri. She cannot remember a single incident of harassment ever since she moved here.

Nida, however, has faced several. ‘‘There are stray remarks. Then, while walking on the road, people just love to bump into you.’’ She says she has personally bashed up two men. ‘‘At least they will think twice before trying it with some other girl next time.’’ With no further plans of studying, Nida has no intentions of working in any other city in India. ‘‘This is where I want to work.’’ Gayathri has plans to study abroad and Pampa believes ‘‘Mumbai is not the right place to bring up children.’’ They, however, agree that Mumbai is the mecca of single working woman.

Pampa suddenly remembers an incident as Gayathri and she were walking down Marine Drive. It wasn’t even dark. These guys (‘‘they didn’t look like they were from Mumbai’’) in a car kept taking a U-turn and sidling up and passing comments. Bugged, one of them picked up a stone and hurled it at the car. The guys didn’t return. Further down the road, they met a policeman. ‘‘We struck up a conversation and told him about the guys. All he said was ‘dhyan se jana’,’’ say Gayathri and Pampa, their eyes going round with surprise. ‘‘He didn’t do anything!’’

There is a quick round of cities the three have lived in and the ‘‘safe’’ time to come back home. Dusk (maximum 8 pm): Lucknow, Varanasi. Hyderabad: 11 pm. Pune: Okay to be out for late-night movies but not alone, okay with women friends. Mumbai? Nida says midnight. Pampa: 1.30 am, Gayathri: 3-4 am (provided friends keep checking on you on the phone).

As the rain comes down in buckets, Nida rushes off. She has plans for the evening. Gayathri and Pampa browse around the bookshop adjoining the Cha Bar and then amble across to the National Centre for Performing Arts to check on a Greta Garbo movie.