Add a memory III

Lovely anklets! Silver lined stone-embedded and not so glittery that go with any dress, more of casual, I-don't-give-a-damn anklets. She reaches out and is toying with them while sipping piping hot coffee we bought from the station platform.

'Society is a mean judge. You get ranked based on how you look rather than what you are. Work places are a microcosm of this evil. I usually prefer dressing in casuals and match everything to what I wear and carry but these days no one bothers in my team and being the tough girl I am, no one dares to comment. So I wear whatever I want.'

Shravya seemed to speak to herself more than me.

'The dress should look costly; Branded ones manage to get respect. I don't need to look for anything. Lifestyle does not determine who I am. I am past that stage and more matured now. Life teaches many things you see.'

I nodded in agreement. Agreeing only to the last part of her theory.

'Most men can't face the fact that I earn more than them and look at this as a snob. Even if a girl deserves to be promoted, there are rumor mills working overtime to show that there was some illicit advantage for the girl!'

'This is not just confined to men,' I chip in, 'Mostly the discussion starts from a women and men build on it. There is nothing particular only for men. It is how human psyche is built. Being jealous is the first thing taught at school when you compare grades and performances and limit the child's ability to a mere number.'

'Agreed. The way society teaches you to mould yourself and be nice isn't any good. In fact you end up wanting to step over to the other side. All the capability and talent is ignored just because you are a woman and people murmur behind you. This is bad. Do you even know how much a woman sacrifices when she steps out of her comfort and comes to work? Do you know how many male egos she has to encounter and satisfy to lead a normal life? From her husband to father-in-law, neighbors to relatives, team mates to managers, cab driver to security and it goes on. People all over have mean attitudes and are always ready to scoop something from you as you work. After all this we never complain about work pressure and are expected to stay calm and work at home as if nothing happened.'

My coffee is done and I crush the cup. The train slows down and she looks at me waiting for a comment. I refuse to divulge my feelings in my expression. She remains silent.

'Don't you feel people look up to you? You seem to be pretty successful at work. I guess people should be behind you for advice and stuff?'

'Yes they do. This is even more tiresome as the question is about the amount of work I do. Apart from being dumped on for all the work I am expected to do, people just dump things on me as I am the most efficient in the group! This is the negative side of being professionally sound. I can't say no because I know anyone else in handling that would mess it up.'

'Well! I know how you feel. I have been there and know the feeling. What I do is teach someone else to do the same job, add a professional touch and let it pass on.' She doesn't seem to like my idea.

'You must have a lot of coercing and counseling to do to get the stuff right. I end up spending most of my time on that and hence prefer to do it myself, to retain the quality. That is not the point of discussion. We are talking about the differences in the psyche and how people play it to hit back. Men have egos higher than a mountain and try to shove their ideas and beliefs down our throat. This isn't fair. We have our way of doing things and are good at it. If we managed to do well all these years, we should be able to do that in the time to come. We don't need a daddy at work too. After all why are we being paid if you think we don't have any talent on our own?"

She flicks the tea cup out of the moving train and looks at me as if I need to move my pawn down the chess board. I change my balance and look at her.

'That is a pretty bold statement when you say men handhold you. We just try and make sure you are comfortable in what you are doing. True. You are being paid for your talent, but does it really hurt if we try and help you out? Just to make things simpler.'

She doesn't agree. 'That is not required! If you can make things simpler or help us out, don't dump all your silly things on us! Make sure you do a good job. Let me give you an example. Do you cook?'

I nod in approval.

'Good! Did you ever see the kitchen table, dishes and all the mess you create once you are done? You can be of help but never ever perfect what we are good at. Men are made for a purpose. The point is you take too long to figure it out. Some never do. Some get lost in the way. But one thing is common in all. At every corner or speed breaker in this path, you feel this is it and stick to stay there for ever and expect us to travel all along with you. Women are not like that. We are very practical. We know what we want, when we want and why we want. We go get things done. Period. No nonsense discussions and elaborate plans for life. WE make things simpler. You make all the mess. We don't mind that too. We start minding only when you try and prove that we made the mess and are expected to clear it up!'

I look out nonchalantly out. The train slows down and picks up slowly. The rhythm could easily set to Chaiyya chaiyya! I should have slept and not spoken to her. Here I am defending all the men who are happily sleeping against a woman who wants to rip off all men and justify her statement men are boring. Damn Sharukh and your silly movies. Why don't you play the Don stories or Chak De roles? After all those stories why should you play the all-down-for-you Surinder? And how is it practically possible for a guy working in electricity department to do all that? But how will I convince your female fans? You twist their docile minds and they expect us to be. Damn Sharukh!

We approach a station. I come back from my thoughts and she is still arguing, sincerely.

'You want everything to be as you like it. What about our individuality? We don't want to change, can't. You think it is easy to change but it never is. You should learn to live with that fact. Let me put it better. Even two men cannot be in sync with each other. It reflects in the way you drive too.'

"You want to grab some coffee?" I say as I stand up. We reach a station. The station wakes up for the train and vendors jump down their carts. The number of interested hawkers is low.

I get her some chips and coffee. I stand as the train eases out of the station and settle down. She cups the glass in both hands for warmth and gives that I-know-you glee.

I shrug gesturing what.

'You are like Pradhyumn. You know when to change. I know that you are being chivalorous but you wanted to skip the conversation.'

'No. I just wanted to get some coffee. I don't agree what you said. Let's start about the driving bit. But before that who is Pradhyumn?'

She smiles. For the first time in all the night I see a girl in her.

'Come on! Who is Pradhyumn? You got to tell me more about this.'

She opens the chips packet and settles down.

Who is Pradhyumn? Well, that is another story.

Read Add a memory Part I and Part II.