Tremors In My Heart

Few seconds of tremors in the capital on Wednesday night made me think how emotional independence was no less important than being financially self-reliant.

I was alone at my rented flat in Delhi, all set to decide which shirt to wear to office the next morning. As I stood before the steel almirah, it started making a shattering sound.

Before I could judge the situation, I heard an electric spark followed by a total blackout in the colony. I groped for a torch and went out in the balcony. People had come out and were discussing the fear they had just witnessed for less than 10 seconds.

I called up my mom but disconnected the phone, thinking it was too late as she might have fallen asleep. A friend called asking if I was fine after the quake.

Staying alone for almost four years now, I thought I was all too brave. But panic struck after I hung up the call. I felt a strange disconnect with the world, none to call and look for strength. Yes, I felt weak. Tears rolling on my cheek, my voice almost choked. I felt I was still dependent on others, betraying my own belief that economic independence freed one from social bondage.

I had been an emotional child, an impulsive teenager till my college days, but became more and more confident as I started working in 2005. I commuted alone in trains and buses from Ghaziabad to Delhi for work, waited for autos at 10 in the night. Facing and killing my fears, I never gave discount to myself on the basis of being a woman.

Lengthy commuting time and odd shifts at work brought me to Delhi in 2007. It wasn’t easy convincing my mother, though.

This was the second time I panicked, last being “intimidated” by a street dog at 11.30 pm some three years ago (at my building’s stairs).

Coincidentally, that was also a second floor apartment with an attached balcony.

Last night’s fear was not of being buried under the debris or harassed by someone at night but the feeling of being alone (without any friends around).

This almost questioned my strength as a woman living in the city alone. Why was I scared? Why couldn’t I lock the door and go downstairs like most other people? Was I waiting for an external help? Who could have saved me from the horror? No one but my inner self could have helped me. But in my fit of emotions, I almost tried to escape the situation and look for support outside.

Had I stood there and told myself that I have to take care of my own, I would have been proud of myself. Instead, I took refuge by speaking at home and became normal (on the surface level), not sure if my brother read the pain in my choked voice.

Friends, not even family, can be with you 24x7. And if we choose a life that demands solitude and introspection, we have to be fearless in all situations.

The tremors taught me a “great lesson” only if I could make it a pillar to carve a story of strength for every woman wanting to be independent. After all, I was not the only one alone in the city.