Ladies Compartment

Ass grabbery seems to be a man's favourite pastime when he finds himself in a crowd. I don't know why you people do it, because it gives us no pleasure whatsoever. I don't know why it gives you any satisfaction. You don't see women grabbing mens' bodies, do you? Your sheer insolence disgusts me. I don't mean to attack all males. Only the ones who think they have the liberty, if not the right, to feel random women up whenever the opportunity presents itself. And if the women so much as gives him a dirty look or shouts, he just pretends like it never happened, as does everyone else in the vicinity. At a crowded station, you see the men shout, hurling abuses at each other, a sea of aggressive bodies forcing themselves into a train. I have not seen a more stark contrast between the genders.

Welcome do Delhi Metro's ladies' compartment: keval mahilayen. Here, no one attacks you. Here, young people stand up for older ones. Here, everyone is less irritated and less fearful of a ghost hand coming from somewhere in the crowd for a quick feel. Here, a little nudging doesn't make you as nervous. Here, when a toddler walks across the compartment and is prone to fall, at least five hands reach out to hold him. Motherly instincts come to the fore. Conversation is easier, stares are not so much to antagonise but to tell someone their shoes are pretty (or ugly). A lot of it is because the compartment is less crowded. But to me, our race's gentleness makes it's graceful appearance in the first two cars of every train.

Sure, there are still the odd fights for seats. There are still women who push and shove to get ahead and when the train stops at Connaught Place, you are still going to be squeezed in between bodies and pushed out the door. But all of it is a lot less nauseating in the ladies' compartment.