Driving Skill of Indian Women and How It Depicts Their Oppressed Upbringing

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The stage is set and the moment has arrived for Kasturi to finally take the driver’s seat. She is about to drive the dream Volkswagen she and her husband bought more than a year ago.

Today is Kasturi’s birthday, and her husband, Nikhilesh, has a table reserved for lunch at a sumptuous Mughlai eatery. She is dressed beautifully in a classic blue polka dot dress and gets her husband to wear the shirt she gifted him a month back on the eve of his birthday.

They get on to the Volkswagen, along with their one-and-a-half-year-old daughter. The daughter is parceled to her parent’s place on their way to the restaurant as the baby needs to take her much-needed post-lunch nap.

And they are off…for a good time!

On their way, the topic of discussion revolves around cars and driving because it’s just been a week since Kasturi finished her driving lessons.

Yes, it has been just over a year since they bought the car, and she hasn’t driven it yet. Moreover, she hasn’t had the opportunity to take driving lessons till late. It’s justified for a middle-class woman like her.

She had to complete her schooling — do engineering — say yes to the guy she loved in college — get a job — be vigilant about her boyfriend’s promiscuities (if any) — work her A-off to survive at her workplace — get married — check on her husband’s infidelities (if any) — contemplate about making babies — handling the pressure showered from her parents and in-laws for making babies — convincing herself to make babies — make a baby — overcome post-partum depression…phew!

The newborn was only six months old and needed care, especially her mother’s. Hence, it took another year to manage some time out of her super busy schedule to take driving lessons. And be able to finally drive the car she and Nikhilesh adored and finally bought, thanks to their IT job.

But she is a middle-class turned upper-middle-class working woman and a mother. She is super busy! She took fifteen straight classes, and her instructor was a cabbie turned driving teacher in a driving school named after…of course…an Indian God.

Image created by the author on Canva.

L for Learner, L for Lokenath! You get the pun, right?

Hence, she has just attained the eligibility to drive their Volkswagen, at least up to the second gear. On their way and during the entire tenure of the lunch, their topic of discussion mostly revolved around cars and driving them.

During the drive, her husband notices how keenly she is taking notice of the gear change, use of his feet to control the accelerator, brake, and clutch, awareness of the traffic signals, etc.

They discussed the history of cars, how Hitler had a part to play in building the Volkswagen company, how to extract maximum mileage, what is a turbo engine, what is the latest diesel particulate filter issue in the latest diesel cars, the road hogs, jalopies in the name of trucks and public commutes, and what not.

The lip-smacking lunch was done — Mutton Biriyani, Chicken Tikka Kababs, Firni, and Fresh Lime Soda.

Now, they are out of the restaurant. Nikhilesh gets into the driver’s seat, she sits next to her, and he takes the car out of the parking to the three-lane road, which is relatively empty because it is 2 P.M. on a Saturday. He puts on the hazard light and slowly stops the car on the left corner of the road.

“What happened?” She asks.

He hands over the car key and says — “Happy Birthday! Let’s see how much you have learned.”

Kasturi takes the key rather confidently, and they switch seats. She does the following — adjusts her seat…then mirrors…wears her seat belt…holds the steering…puts the clutch to the floor…places the key in the ignition, and starts the car.

She slowly releases the clutch and realizes she hasn’t shifted the gear. So, she pushes the clutch again and shifts the gear in the first position. Then, she slowly releases the clutch to make the car crawl. Nikhilesh observes and notices a grave mistake.

“You haven’t put down the handbrake.”

Kasturi fumbles and things get jumbled up resulting in the car stopping abruptly.

“Ok, let’s start from the start. Calm yourself down and begin from the beginning.”

Kasturi does exactly that — The seat is already adjusted, the mirror too, wearing her seatbelt already, PUTS THE HANDBRAKE DOWN, holds the steering with her right hand, pushes the clutch, shifts the gear to the first position, releases the clutch as slowly as possible and the car starts to crawl.

“Drive smoothly and take your time. Don’t go over 20 km/hr. And don’t go beyond the second gear. You will have full control.”

She does exactly that and the car cruises making her heart pound fast, both in exhilaration and nervousness. And a time comes when she needs to take a U-turn ahead.

“Ok, we are going good. Now, slowly put on the right indicator and drive towards the right lane, and stop at that point…there. We need to take a U-turn.” He directs her, anticipating it would be a cakewalk.

However, to his surprise, she forgets to put the right indicator on and tries to wave his right hand outside the mirror, but the mirror is closed, so her hand bangs against the mirror, by this time, the car has reached the point where they need to take the U-turn, so she suddenly takes the U-turn without stopping and noticing if any other vehicle of any kind is coming from the other side of the road.

“Stop!” He yells as his heart skips a beat, witnessing the chaos. She stops the car, and they manage to get away without getting hit by other vehicles.

“What was that!!!”

That is the first day, and she is utterly disappointed with the start. He passes it on, thinking it’s the beginner’s jitters. She will be able to drive the car up to 20 km/hr and up to second gear pretty comfortably, with the initial training she had, she will be able to remain unscathed.

“Crazy or what?!”

The Second Attempt

So, the next day, on their way to the office, Nikhilesh asks Kasturi to drive again. She performs the initial line of action perfectly. Maintaining the speed limit of 20 km/hr, she drives up to 10 kilometers, with occasional pieces of advice from her husband.

Then comes a place where she needs to shift to another lane because there’s a barricade ahead on that lane. He warns her to slowly shift to the lane on the right to avoid the barricade but notices her going straight and close enough to hit the barricade.

“Come on, take right…” He implores, but she is still going straight. Thus he takes things (the steering actually) in his own hands, and shifts the car to the right, resulting in a prang with the car behind.

The Signal Turns Red

“This is it. You don’t seem to learn anything at the driving school.” He concludes, reaching home after a tiring day at the garage, submitting the car for repair, and applying for insurance.

“How can you say that? I was about to take right at the right moment.”

“No, you weren’t. You going dead straight. You almost hit that barricade. I am sorry, but…”

“What?”

“You don’t seem to have basic driving sense.”

She leaves and goes to the other room to make their daughter sleep after dinner. She knew the signal of driving that Volkswagen had turned RED.

All Women Are Bad Drivers?

The next day, they take a cab to the office.

“I can’t believe you couldn’t control the car even at the speed of 20. It’s so basic.”

She stays mum.

“It’s not your fault. Women ARE bad at driving. Controlling a car at the speed of 20 km/hr for a man is extremely basic.”

They reach the office.

“Do you also agree with that?” Kasturi surprisingly looks at the driver through the rearview and asks.

“You…I’m talking to you…Do you also think all women are bad drivers?”

“Well, ma’am, with due respect…most of them.” The driver courageously answers.

“Wow…man’s world huh.”

They get out of the car, and Nikhilesh tries to calm her down, “What’s wrong?”

Kasturi leaves without an answer but with tears.

The Climax Monologue

They meet outside the office to get a cab. Nikhilesh tries not to talk, showing his side of being upset.

Suddenly, Kasturi begins —

“You know what’s wrong? The whole way of upbringing a girl is wrong in this country. You and I are of the same age. And when we both turned 7, you were the one who was allowed to go out and play in your neighborhood, not me. When we both turned 10, you were allowed to go out alone at night and cross the main road to buy groceries, not me. When we both turned 12, you were the one who was allowed to go to your friend’s place for a sleepover, not me. When we both turned 16, you were the one who was allowed to ride his elder brother’s bike, and my elder sister didn’t have a bike, she managed to buy a scooter with her paisa when she turned 25. And you suddenly expect us women to drive a car like any other guy who has at least 10 years of more exposure than us when it comes to dealing with society.

“Just look at the situation of the road. You guys have made it hell. It’s such a dog-eat-dog situation out there. You expect women to not be nervous? Yeah, we wouldn’t be nervous, if parents let their daughters grow the same way as they allow their sons to grow.

“The pervasive and perverse culture of imposing an array of restrictions on women’s behavior, appearance, movement, and societal interactions is the main reason why some women are not good drivers.”

India and other third-world countries have miles to go before Kasturi and other women can live the way they want to, against all kinds of oppression and pseudo-sociological rationalizations.

Dusk is about to fall and Nikhilesh and Kasturi leave for home early to receive his parents who have come to present gold bangles to their daughter.

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