Living by deadlines

Coffee and conversations post a brief shopping spree, would have been the ideal way to unwind after a long day at work for friends Pooja and Aarti. But sitting across a table at the sprawling food court in Inorbit Mall on Thursday __ a week after a young techie was abducted, and later raped, from outside the same swank complex __ the two 29-year-old professionals looked anything but relaxed.The clock was ticking past 8.30 pm and they had to make a Cinderella-like exit soon. After the recent incident, sipping their drink in leisure without a care (for the watch) in the world hasn’t been an option anymore, they confess.
Sadly, this revised curfew time, considering the mall is open till 11 pm, for most women walking into the upmarket shopping arcade appears to be more a self-imposed rule than a diktat handed down by elders. Their counter: It is better to be safe than sorry.
“Every girl now has to be overly cautious. There is no other choice because the system hasn’t done enough to protect us,” Aarti says, laying the ground for the dozens of grouses that pour in from women across ages, through the next one hour at the `crime site’ .
From dysfunctional streetlights to the complete absence of patrol teams in and around this hi-tech zone, to the dire state of public transport, women (interestingly all are seen walking either in groups or with a male partner by the side) rue how this area is every bit ideal for unscrupulous activities.
Take a stroll down the road, away from the blinding lights of the mall, and this ugly truth immediately makes an appearance.
The time is 9 pm. There are exactly 20 odd metered autos lined up outside the mall, catering to shoppers, diners and executives working late in the many offices around it. Thanks to the light shower, the autowalas are seen having a fi eld day, demanding nothing less than Rs 100 for even a kilometer-long ride. Due to the lack of a designated stand, shared autos and cabs are found parked haphazardly, some in pockets that are pitch dark, with drivers impatiently screaming out to waiting passengers, trying to beat competitors to the game. Given the late hour and a sky covered in dark clouds, most are found jumping into one of these without much ado. In negligible cases is the cab/auto number noted or even the charged fare questioned. Most striking of course is the zero presence of cops here to either man the unruly traffic or keep tabs on these public vehicles . In fact, this coupled with the ‘dead’ streetlights , is enough to give an eerie feeling even to those driving past this stretch in private cars.
“I am just not confi dent being alone around this place anymore. So I have now started to ask my husband to come pick me up each time I am at work post 7.30 pm,” says Mumbai girl Priyanka Kundu, an employee with Progress Software housed in the building standing right across the road from Inorbit. While this obnoxiously early deadline she’s set for herself is something that upsets Priyanka often, she isn’t willing to take a chance. “Had there been an active bus service, I could have still thought of travelling alone in the night because it’s a safer option (at least no dark glasses or central locks) than the rest. But with the way things are here, with no authority to oversee any of this, the idea of stepping out alone is scary,” the young professional adds.
Incidentally, even a bottle of pepper spray or a swiss knife in their bags does not give these women the courage to feel otherwise. Being with a male friend or in a large group are still their biggest defence weapons. “You can never be sure if you’d have enough time to react appropriately in times of trouble. I, therefore, avoid travelling to this place by myself. Also, there are no cops anywhere along these roads who you can reach for help. Then why risk it,” reiterates another ‘migrant’ techie in town, Ankita Anand.