Swallow

“This is too revealing. The boys are getting disturbed. Tell your mother to buy you something that covers you. Look at what Alisha is wearing.” Her coach barks at her. Chlorine goes up her nostrils as she tries to hold on to the side of the swimming pool. Alisha is in a bodysuit and has a frock attached to her waist. The Olympic swimmers that she had seen on TV were wearing costumes like hers, not Alisha’s. She nods and smiles. She needs to be on her coach’s good side. She wants to learn how to swim.

Her Daadi tells her that people say stupid things. “Ek kaan se suno, dusre kaan se nikaalo.” ( Listen from one ear and then let out the stupid things from the other). This was easier said than done. Coach’s words had slid like droplets of chlorine and were inside her stomach. She had just swallowed it all.

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“Only a man can run our business. Women are too emotional. It’s a pity I don’t have a son.” her father confides in his school friend in their living room, as she hands out the snacks her mother is busily preparing in the kitchen. It doesn’t matter to him that she has heard him. They are on their third glass of whiskey. She grabs the coke on the table and takes a large gulp to distract herself.

It’s been an odd day for her. A man had followed her home on a scooter from the bus stop. It seemed like his pants were unzipped and he was trying to grab her. She didn’t wait long enough to find out why. She runs home determined not to tell anyone. If she does, her independence will be over. They won’t let her walk back home alone or go out to play without her older brothers chaperoning. And then her brother will resent her for restricting his movements. She can’t have any of that. Before she rings the bell, she takes a deep breath, adjusts her face and swallows.

The board results are out. She has 94%, which implies she can go to the college she wants. She calls her boyfriend and she doesn’t hear any excitement in his voice. He has a respectable 88%. She swallows her joy to console and reassure him. There’s a text message on her phone an hour later. He wants to breakup. She decides to ask why. He tells her in two succinct sentences. She’s put on weight during this study period, and he thinks he will find better prospects when he goes to college. She re-reads the message 3 times, pours herself a glass of water and swallows.

The droplets collected in her stomach are beginning to cause mild discomfort. She should let them out, but she doesn’t know how.

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“What bullshit- don’t lie to me just because I haven’t been paying attention to you…You’re not that attractive. Serves you right for going to this party without me.”She stares at him. Is this the person she loves? The one who thinks she’ll make up a story about his best friend climbing on top of her after she had passed out at a party? She imagines a large globule containing this experience submerging into her solar plexus. She is not going to create a scene. She just needs to walk away, without collapsing.

“Madam, I don’t understand. Can you repeat?”The officers eyes are fixated on her breasts. She’s wearing a loose salwar kameez. She has to now talk to his balding head as she asks again for information on how they’ve set up the child protection unit. How could they possibly entrust children to this leering man’s care? She bites her lip and asks the question again.

“What do you know? She has a brain too. “The men crowded in the office conference room titter in agreement as they look at the final slide in her presentation. They are her seniors. And one of them is ‘supposedly’ her mentor. She does not participate in the laughter. She’s still registering that her appearance is under surveillance and they think she’s lookable. They probably meant no harm by it? But how did they think she landed this job? Do they not know where she graduated from? She swallows the iota of discomfort and smiles as she disconnects her laptop.

“If I had to choose between business and pleasure. I would rather choose pleasure. I’m too distracted around you to get any work done.” His hand has found her knee. Her entire nervous system is on high alert. She excuses herself to the bathroom. She can’t wash her face because of the makeup. She stares at herself in the mirror. Maybe that’s why her mother is desperate to get her married. Would this stop if she had a husband? This droplet is stuck in her throat as she makes it back to the table and seats herself as far away from him as she can. She gulps the rest of her tea and steers the conversation in the direction of the work she wants to do.

“I can’t thank you enough. I’m truly grateful for this opportunity” she gushes at the panel as they hand her a large cheque. She has to hold back her tears. The droplets had turned into an ulcer she couldn’t ignore. And with that came the idea. The idea to create a Women+ LGBTQIA+ circle to help members navigate work and life with support from mentors and coaches. This was the first round of money she had raised.

“I wonder why so many bright talented young women second guess themselves so much”. The panelist remarks. The other panelist shrugs and turns to the representative woman on the panel for the answer. She draws herself up. She’s going to engage this time .“I don’t know. Have you heard of patriarchy?”