I often find myself thinking or reading about life in India, where I’m from, while living in the Netherlands and feeling a strange sense of dissonance. Often, it feels like we’re in different decades or even parallel universes. If we sit down to dissect all the differences, the list is endless. In some cases, these differences are simply cultural and a matter of habit or preference, but others are (s)(m)addening.
Since the list can be endless, let’s take just one example. Something I love doing here is staying out late to study in the library, often till midnight or so. Doing this in India, returning late at night alone, with nobody having tabs on my location, would be out of consideration. When I casually mention to family or elders back home that I’m out late at the library, it stirs up some concern regarding my safety. It hits me at random times while taking a new or longer route home to enjoy the city views that, “hey I’m not rushing home because I’m fearing my safety at every minute of the journey back!”. And then it hurts me more to enjoy this freedom knowing that this is a privilege, but should really be an accessible right. I wish for women in every country to be able to walk out of their homes at any hour, feeling safe and returning home safe. It is, however, very idealistic, given how the situation is for women in many countries right now. In India, for example, there are cases of university libraries not allowing girls to access the library beyond 8 pm, female students being molested when going on an after-dinner walk on campus, different curfew times for males and females at universities, and much more. In fact, the imposition of a discriminatory curfew at the Jamia Milia University led to a women’s movement, Pinjra Tod (“Break the Cage”) in the capital city of Delhi. It feels strange to see the twenty-first century where one part of the world is so much safer for women, and in the other, women are just riddled with anxiety in every public space. I often feel conflicted and guilty being a recipient of such freedom here, which my own fellow citizens do not have.
The fact that a world that is comparatively more egalitarian, such as the one here, compared to the one I’ve been exposed to most of my life does sometimes leaves me slightly hopeful. Perhaps a day will come when I’ll see more women casually strolling outside for a walk at night, without panicking about a creepy look someone shot at them, suspicious cars on stranded streets, or discriminatory curfews. I’ve been incredibly lucky with my time on this planet, but I can’t help feeling this weird disconnect being here physically, while constantly thinking about India – feeling like I’m nowhere and everywhere at the same time.
I often find myself thinking or reading about life in India, where I’m from, while living in the Netherlands and feeling a strange sense of dissonance. Often, it feels like we’re in different decades or even parallel universes. If we sit down to dissect all the differences, the list is endless. In some cases, these differences are simply cultural and a matter of habit or preference, but others are (s)(m)addening.
Since the list can be endless, let’s take just one example. Something I love doing here is staying out late to study in the library, often till midnight or so. Doing this in India, returning late at night alone, with nobody having tabs on my location, would be out of consideration. When I casually mention to family or elders back home that I’m out late at the library, it stirs up some concern regarding my safety. It hits me at random times while taking a new or longer route home to enjoy the city views that, “hey I’m not rushing home because I’m fearing my safety at every minute of the journey back!”. And then it hurts me more to enjoy this freedom knowing that this is a privilege, but should really be an accessible right. I wish for women in every country to be able to walk out of their homes at any hour, feeling safe and returning home safe. It is, however, very idealistic, given how the situation is for women in many countries right now. In India, for example, there are cases of university libraries not allowing girls to access the library beyond 8 pm, female students being molested when going on an after-dinner walk on campus, different curfew times for males and females at universities, and much more. In fact, the imposition of a discriminatory curfew at the Jamia Milia University led to a women’s movement, Pinjra Tod (“Break the Cage”) in the capital city of Delhi. It feels strange to see the twenty-first century where one part of the world is so much safer for women, and in the other, women are just riddled with anxiety in every public space. I often feel conflicted and guilty being a recipient of such freedom here, which my own fellow citizens do not have.
The fact that a world that is comparatively more egalitarian, such as the one here, compared to the one I’ve been exposed to most of my life does sometimes leaves me slightly hopeful. Perhaps a day will come when I’ll see more women casually strolling outside for a walk at night, without panicking about a creepy look someone shot at them, suspicious cars on stranded streets, or discriminatory curfews. I’ve been incredibly lucky with my time on this planet, but I can’t help feeling this weird disconnect being here physically, while constantly thinking about India – feeling like I’m nowhere and everywhere at the same time.
