Blatantly copied from a post I found on Facebook. I thought it was very well written. And I loved the way the sentiment is so expertly expressed.
Enjoy!
Guptaji Please Meri Shaadi Karado
You are a bright young
man with great prospects. You grew up in Delhi with all its brilliant
advantages, the shaded boulevards, the lovely eateries, the great
consumerist bubble and the surprisingly high quality education.
Your
parents dote on you; you live in a comfortably posh yet middle class
south Delhi residential area such as Vasant Kunj. Last year you finished
your expensive MBA course that daddy paid for, and you landed a great
job. You work for an MNC and the future looks golden. Last month you
made the first EMI on a spunky new hatchback. And now to complete the
circle of joy, you fall for a stunning college beauty who you met when
you walked in on your sister’s pyjama party a few nights ago.
You
woo and chase her down, text her and fb her, you tease her and
compliment her in equal measure and finally she acquiesces to go out
with you for a coffee. “No dinner, papa doesn’t allow late nights. Just
coffee.”
On the fateful evening you rush out of your
gurgaon office earlier than usual, taking the trouble to spruce up in
the office loo, you pick her up from her South Delhi college – no big
deal, it’s a first date, of course you can do that much – you have a
lovely evening together where naturally you pay for everything, after
all she doesn’t even have a job, and then as you get out of the coffee
shop she slides into the front passenger seat of your car without as
much as a by your leave. Needless to say you weren’t planning to leave
her in the middle of the street anyway; certainly you will deposit her
at the most convenient drop off point.
“Where can I drop you?” you ask.
“Home
of course!” she looks surprised and a trifle disgusted, like you’ve
just let off. You are immediately contrite. "Yes, yes of course. So
ummm… where would that be?"
NOIDA.
And thus begins the saga of Delhi men.
Delhi
men have complained for years on end that they are used as drivers.
Gugraon to NOIDA is no concern for the girl. A 3 state cross country
trek doesn’t make her feel guilty. Your exhausting day, the punitive
cost of fuel, the ache in your lower back, the redness of your eyes,
your lack of sleep or your pressing hospital engagement, none of it
matters in the face of the unequivocal and imperious “Mujhe Drop to
Karoge Na?’’
No, its not a question. It’s a command. No,
it’s not even a command. It’s a test. If you fail the test dude, you
ain’t getting any. No alu ka paratha from aunty ji, no anything else
from uski beti ji.
Men in Delhi have cribbed for years
that they never know why a girl actually responds to them, when she
finally does. Because eventually they end up behind the wheel and behind
the times.
Girlfriends acquire them to be ferried around.
Wives keep them to be driven from point to point. Sisters pamper them
and keep their secrets to get those crucial drops and picks. And of
course mothers never cease to remind of the love and the sacrifice and
the years of wakeful nights… “chal ab kitty party tak chhor de phir teen
ghante ke andar pakka aa jaiyo, Mrs. Chawla badi bore haigi….”
Today,
you Mr. B K Gupta, Delhi Police Chief and custodian of this capital’s
citizens, protector of the vulnerable, the weak, the easily targeted,
you have just made the life of all such hapless men a little more
miserable.
You have just announced, without shame or
sheepishness, that all women who travel late at night, must be
accompanied by a ‘relative or a friend’.
The Taliban would be proud of you. Any plans of stoning those who don’t?
So
I am assuming Mr. Gupta, that now you will also become shrink and
counselor ensuring I make the right friends, keep the right people in my
life, am socially amiable, personally flexible and I win every
popularity contest. I must find a husband and hold on to one, regularly
visit all my relatives every Sunday, smile at all my neighbours every
day and occasionally share the ‘ghar ki bani kheer’ with them. After
all, I don’t know which of them I will need when.
Needless
to say I must also stay in regular touch with all my old college mates,
my ex colleagues, hey it may even be a great idea to stay on cordial
terms with my ex boyfriends.
And heaven forbid that I fall
in love with a man who doesn’t know how to drive. Tauba tauba Mr.
Gupta. You will be appalled at my choices, won’t you?
Your
policing has no room for me if I am single, socially awkward,
dysfunctional in my relationships or a plain simple loner. This city
cannot provide me protection if I am an insecure person incapable of
holding on to the people in my life. And this city will most definitely
not be responsible for me if I am from out of town and have no friends
and family here.
The Delhi Police will not stand up and
applaud the women who fight with their folks at home and with age old
prejudices and biases and insist on going out there, earning their own
living, making their own lives. This city will look askance at the girls
who do anything it takes to be truly independent – paying their own
bills, learning how to drive, jumping in and out of all sorts of public
transport, living not only on their own but on their own terms, making
their way through the meandering maze of the city to find one singular
personal identity.
Your city will not commit to my well
being if I am a sole bread earner, if I have dependants of my own, if I
look after the infirm or the disabled, if I don't have the choices that
allow me the luxury of 'relatives and friends' to accompany me on late
night excursions into this jungle land you claim to defend as your turf.
The
next time a young trainee flutters her eyes at her employer at 6 p.m.
and says “sorry I know I haven’t met my deadline but I need to go home
because it’s dark, and hence this work and its multi crore ramifications
can wait; after all daddy will be worried”, you Mr. Gupta will
appreciate her sense of priorities. Oh, and her postscript: “Sir, can
you drop me home?”
The next time a smart young lady
insists, hey no, its okay, I can find my way home - from work, from a
party, from a late night meeting - you won't be the one encouraging her
choices, and her voices.
The next time a young girl puts 6
months of her hard earned salary on the down payment of her car and on
driving lessons, the next time a college kid saves up all her pocket
money for the metro pass, the next time an ambitious young lady works
late into the night to finish that crucial project, will your city rally
around that woman and make her feel its worth her while? To defy
convention, prejudices, centuries old biases?
No Mr. Gupta. You will stand around and watch her get raped.
Thank you sir.
I will go and make tea for my husband now.