I was on flight 6E6245, from Kolkata to Delhi. It was around 11:46 a.m. that we had landed and the first thing I did was text my dad “Landed!! Smiley emoji” before heading towards the belt to collect my luggage, which in this case was a new Safari suitcase, red.
Now I wouldn’t go into the details of how I couldn’t recognize my own suitcase, since it was turned upside down when it showed up – but anyways…
Very soon I was reunited with my dad and my brother, who had accompanied him, and then we left for our car. It was a hired one, that came with a driver. Not an Ola or Uber, not sure an Ola or Uber would cover a distance of almost 100 kms from Delhi, towards Uttar Pradesh. After all, that’s where our destination was – a small town in Uttar Pradesh, Shamli.
Yes, Shamli from ‘Time stops at Shamli’ by Ruskin Bond.
That’s where I grew up. A pretty nice place by the countryside, more so if you prefer peace and quiet over the bustling hubbubs of urban agglomerations. This was a place of fields and farms. And apparently, a place with no airports. So, if you were to travel by air, you’d need to go to the nearest airport – Indira Gandhi International Airport, New Delhi. Yes, 100 kilometers from home.
It was going to be a three-hour journey and like all our previous travels, we’d need to stop somewhere for lunch. And that place had to be a dhaba along the highway of Sonipat.
Why a dhaba though? Because, the aloo parathas were in a league of their own in these roadside palaces.
Anyways, after getting our car parked, my dad asked us siblings to go in first and he’d follow after taking a puff.
We did.
We went ahead and entered the air-conditioned eatery and chose a table at the extreme corner, on our right. The ambience was extravagantly spiffing. Dimly-lit lights and an elite décor, along with the fanciest of tables and well-cushioned chairs, it was perfect.
We eagerly seated ourselves as we waited for our dad to join us shortly. I looked around to see if I could find any handsome Punjabis around, as my brother fiddled away with his phone.
It wasn’t very long before our dad walked in and took his chair, that he stated, quite seriously if I may add, “You, my dearest daughter, are going to sit on that tractor while I take a few shots.”
“Wha- I’m sorry, what?” I was yet again taken aback by what my dad had randomly said. It wasn’t anything new for him to bring up the most random of things at the most unproper of places but seriously, now? And what the hell did he even mean?
My brother didn’t even spare him a glance, just an amused smirk as he kept busy with his phone. His body expression clearly had the words ‘and there we go again’ written all over it.
My dad repeated, “Just outside this room, there is a tractor, they had probably kept it there for selfies and stuff. I want you to climb up on that so that I could take a picture.”
“Um, why?”
“Well, the other kids were also-”
“Kids dad, kids. I’m 20. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“So what? The tractor is big enough for adults. You are getting on that and I’m going to take a few pictures. If you want, your brother can sit on the extra seat.”
“Don’t bring me into it, I’m simply not interested.” My brother casually replied, his uninterest widely visible.
I sighed and looked at my dad, “Why do you even want me to climb on that tractor? There are way too many people here, if a grown woman like me climbs on that, people are definitely going to stare.” I reasoned.
“That’s exactly why!” He sounded even more serious than ever. He very subtly lowered his voice, as he continued, “I’ve been watching numerous families sending their kids to ride that thing while they’re taking the shots. Every one, I mean every family, is sending their sons to take the driver’s seat and their daughters to the extra-side seat. I mean why? Why aren’t the girls urged to take the center seat with the boys on the extra one? Like, if my daughter can travel all the way from Kolkata to Delhi all by herself, why are these girls not even allowed on the driver’s seat for a few mere pictures?”
And it did make sense now. Why my dad had suddenly gotten the idea of getting me on top of that. And it seemed like my brother also agreed to whatever our dad was saying since he too, had turned his phone off momentarily to look at our dad’s face.
“If you take the center seat and your brother takes the extra seat, we’ll be proving a point that even girls can do what everyone expects a boy to do. So, what do you say?”
“Well, if you put it that way… I guess…” I was hesitant at doing something so ridiculous, and yet (probably) meaningful.
“Awesome! Let’s order then!”
“I haven’t yet agreed to it…!”
“Let’s see, aloo parathas for you two and aloo puri for me!!” dad exclaimed, he wasn’t going to hear any more excuses then.
I sighed, letting go of these recent thoughts regarding this whole proving-a-point thing.
After finishing up with our meals, dad called out the waiter and asked him to bring up two chais. (two glasses of teas). That’s another interesting fact about these dhabas, they serve tea not in cups but in glasses. And as for why dad ordered only two glasses, was because of the quantity. The quantity of only one chai served was enough for the two of us, who rarely drank beverages after having lunch.
“It’ll only be a minute, sir.”
“Sure. And then, bring us the bill please.”
The waiter nodded and left.
“Now, listen good guys. After we’re done with our tea, don’t just rush off towards the car, we’ll get the pictures first, okay?” my dad said.
“Again with that? I thought I said I hadn’t agreed to that yet.” I facepalmed.
“But–” my dad began, he would probably have given an explanation to why doing that was necessary for the society and what not, but was interrupted by the waiter who had arrived with our chais. And very confidently, he had placed one glass in front of my dad and went round the table to put another glass in front of my brother’s.
Now that was infuriating, in a way at least.
Like, he could have very well placed the second glass in front of me, which would have been easier for him as well from his position (my brother sat in the opposite direction, so the waiter had to go around the table to place the glass in front of him) and there was also the fact that I was older, and I looked older, making me more likely to have ordered the chai.
But no, he had automatically assumed that since I was ‘woman’, I wouldn’t be drinking tea. And that reminded me of this strange thing that my high school friends used to mention all the time when I asked them to accompany me to a tea-break, ‘Oh, I don’t drink tea… it’s not good for my skin, it’ll darken. Women need to be fairer, even more so than men, you know.’
And I could never quite piece it in my head together that what did drinking tea had to do with men and women? And wasn’t the reason for dark skin among Indians the amount of melanin present in our skins?
Oh God, this did take me back.
“Let’s get those damn pictures!”
A few stares, a few turned–faces, a few moving lips and most of the heads subtly looked in our direction, eyes lingering.
Almost every woman had carried that smile on their face when they saw me taking the driver’s seat on that tractor. Not the sarcastic or I’m-better-than-you smiles, a genuine smile enveloped with tons of unspoken emotions, as if they’re respecting the choice. As for my brother, he definitely betrayed me by not getting on at all. He smiled and clicked pictures from all angles, ready to send that in the family group. And my dad? A big, wide and proud smile grazed his lips as he too cheered comments of praise and took a few shots.
After the entire moment was done, I had gotten down and we were ready to leave; through the corner of my eye, I glanced at a little girl pointing at the same tractor while tugging at the hem of her father’s untucked shirt. Another little boy, probably her brother stood there alongside his mother, while the father kept staring at my dad’s back.
Mission Accomplished I deemed.