Notes from the Highway

Simran
It’s a long weekend. And a much needed one for me. As soon as I feel a sigh of relief , my phone rings. It’s Ansh, my ten year old Darling. The little brat is restless and excitedly waiting for me to pick him up.
From Delhi. Four hundred kilometers away.
There are still some files lying on the table in my office. It’s already two O’ clock but I decide to stay a bit longer at work.
I make a quick mental calculation. I should be at my home in Delhi by late evening. And maybe a bit earlier if I skip lunch.
It’s time to finally go. I drive out of my office and hit the National Highway.There is not too much traffic today. I should be home earlier than I thought.
I wonder about the kind of music that I should play and then settle down for the latest chart topper “Manike Mage Hithe”.
As if almost on a cue , the phone rings.
It’s Rahul. It has to be him. His timing is perfect. Most of the time.
He knows I am driving alone. And he is sorry that he couldn’t come and accompany me.
He is crazy. And in Love.
I remember how he once came all the way to Kolhapur from Delhi so that we could travel together.
I smile at those sweet memories. And I tell him to keep the phone down and let me drive . He is reluctant but he is obedient too. I smile again.
I look outside at the lush green countryside. The dark clouds are hanging low and I wish I could pluck some of them with my hands. Maybe take them home.
And Just then I notice the commotion .There is a long queue of vehicles ahead. It’s a massive traffic jam. It doesn’t seem normal.
It’s the farmers. Again. This time police have beaten some of them while they were protesting near Karnal. The news has spread and the whole highway is now blocked.
It has been ten months of protests against the farm bills. I don’t know if they are right but I sympathize with them. I just hope that a solution is found soon. Amicably. There are far too many protests across our country these days. We are living on a tinderbox. Always in rage. This is what it seems.
My Car comes to a grinding halt. There is a Truck right in front. Another car screeches to a stop just beside me. A Haryana roadways bus is honking unnecessarily. I get irritated.
Just then I notice a group of men staring at me. They are sitting in the carriage of the truck ahead of me. Disorganized. Unkempt. Free.
I start rearranging the dashboard. I want to avoid thinking about what they must be thinking.
I steal a glance at them and realise they are still staring. I feel uncomfortable.
I take a quick look at myself. I am dressed in a simple shirt and jeans. Nothing provocative. Nothing Flashy. And then I chide myself for thinking about my dress.
It is their minds. Perverted minds. I could have been wearing anything and they would still be staring.
I wonder if I am thinking too much. Maybe they mean no harm . Maybe they are just curious to see a single young woman driving an SUV.
And then I hear a tap on my window screen. It’s a beggar. I turn my face away. But he refuses to move. After pleading for some time , he is now staring. Like they do.
I know this gaze. The same gaze that I have seen from many others. I want to shout at him but then quietly make sure that the car is locked.
After a few minutes, he walks away to the next car .That is a Mahindra XUV. Red colour. I wonder if that beggar will stay there for as long. And I wonder if he will stare.
I know he won’t. Because a man is driving that car. A man.
The road is still blocked. I feel restless.
A bike is trying to navigate through. As it crosses me , it slows down. Maybe deliberately.
There are two young men on the bike. They honk but they don’t move. I know they are looking at me. Continuously.
I feel naked. And angry. And helpless.
The phone rings again. It is Rahul …Again…Like Always.
My voice is heavy and he knows instinctively that something is wrong.
I complain about the delay due to the blockade. I also mention the constant stares.
He is upset. But it doesn’t matter. He is too far away. In another city.
I tell him not to worry. I can handle it. This is nothing new. And I think of the plight of thousands of women who experience it everyday.
On the road. At the workplace. In Malls. In the homes.
At least I am in a car. Not in the Open. Safe. Hopefully.
And I check the lock again. Just to be sure.
It is getting dark but the road is now cleared. Divine intervention .Perhaps.
I still have a long way to go.
I am hungry but I drive on. I am a confident successful woman but I don’t want to sit alone at a roadside eatery at this time. Or Anytime.
Rahul calls again. He is restless. He always is. He tries to crack a joke. Just to make me feel better. It’s a silly joke but I smile.
I tell him about my fears and how I want to deal with them . On my own. Alone.
I am nearing home now. The road is deserted.
I find it strange that I am even more anxious now.
But I am also proud. Of myself. For being successful and independent. For being able to handle this world. Every day. Every moment.
I am approaching my home. I can see that Ansh is waiting. He runs and jumps into my lap.
He is happy. And inquisitive. He asks me about the journey.
I think. I smile. and I tell him how pleasant it was.
I am sure he will grow up as a better man. Hopefully, In a better world.

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