Amma said I can go by myself

This morning, I woke up convinced that I was going on a much-awaited trip... until I realized that it was a dream and my much-awaited trip was cancelled last week due to the Jat agitations and road/railway blocks. For a few disoriented moments, I sat up on the bed staring at the bag I had packed for this trip (that I still haven't had the heart to unpack). This would have been my second solo trip, and the month of February has gone by without me stepping out of Delhi/NCR (blasphemy, in the mind of an unemployed person who likes to travel). 

My mother has always been amused (I think) with my interest in going out of town this often. Now that I'm married, she asks 'ippovaanu oorsutthardha nirutthen!' (why don't you stop loafing around/travelling at least now?) I don't know what marriage has to do with travelling, but my parents are to be complimented for instilling in me the confidence to be out (often by myself) and take public transport (and by extension, I took it to exploring). 

When in school, I took the public bus back home, and the walk from the school to the bus stop is something I will always remember fondly. Together with a bunch of close friends - all girls, or sometimes alone, the walk was always full of nonsense, laughter and thoughts. On the way was a beautiful cemetery - lush with greenery and beautiful white stone angels - that I wanted to enter, but never managed to, in the seven years I walked that route. I only stopped taking the bus a couple of months before I finished class 12, when two boys from a college nearby stalked my friend and me for days together. I wish I could tell 17-year-old me to confront them.  

Singapore was a blessing to the loner that I sometimes become. In my college campus, and later the areas where I lived, I would often walk alone, mostly with the iPod and ice cream, turning over thoughts (and sometimes story ideas) in my head. I only need to close my eyes, and images of the long lonely stretches, clean pavements with an odd pedestrian or cyclist, and the orange lighting in the road, fill my head with nostalgia.

Of course, unfortunately, such worry-free walking is not always possible on Indian streets. The few times I’ve tried it in Delhi at night, I’ve been annoyed with the idea of being ready to dial a number at short notice and tired of constantly looking back or slowing down to let a ‘suspicious’ person or car pass before I walk again. That doesn’t stop me from trying, though – I deserve my right to solitude and public spaces as anyone, and should be able to trust my gut instinct (and NOT be blamed if something, god forbid, goes wrong).

I truly owe it to my parents for trusting my senses and giving me the freedom to travel by public bus, walk or cycle alone during my school years. For not constantly harping on adult company or asking me to call as soon as I reached a friend’s home. For teaching me that it’s not beneath me to travel by public transport (as is the idea I get from many in Delhi), and for encouraging me to figure out maps, interchanges, ask for help and understand bus connections (something that becomes very useful in international trips!) Aided by this upbringing and the exploratory freedom that Singapore gave me, I casually roam around in Delhi without hesitation. I can take informed risks to access public spaces and tut-tut concerns of going to ‘shady’ places.

Perhaps my parents realise this too. Amma doesn’t chide me for going to look at monuments by myself. When I told her about my now-cancelled solo trip and she asked me questions on where I was going and when I’d be back, her voice didn’t betray even the tiniest bit of worry or anxiety. Nor did she once discourage me or ask why I had to go alone. It may be because she thinks I’m beyond redemption when it comes to travelling, but as I was talking to her, I swelled with pride. Amma truly trusts I can go by myself.