Many women drive in Chennai. In Madras, though, few women did; the "posh" ones being the exception.This is not a cheap joke on women "driving their men nuts" or anything like that. This is about driving per se, plain and simple. Since many women of Chennai are named after flowers of one kind or another (Poongothai, Malar, Malarkodi, Malliga, Mallika, Malarvizhi, Thamarai, Thamaraikkodi, Jasmine, etc etc) , I felt that "daisy" is a close English approximation (Daffodil is not as pithy as Daisy). Hence the title. But make no mistake, notwithstanding their floral names, the Chennai women are no wilting lilies. They are sturdy. I was about to stay "sturdy as stout Cortez" but held myself back realizing the potential for being misunderstood on the "stout" bit; besides, I am not sure if indeed Cortez was stout, Keat's characterization being derived from second or even third hand information on the girth of the said senor Cortez.
Back to the floral femmes of Chennai and their driving habits.
The addition of self starters to scooters single-handedly put Chennai women on wheels, more so than any other single factor; even more than all the other factors combined. How so? The act of kicking the beast to life was (and still is) not considered a "womanly" thing to do. So when a button could do the job, women were freed from a major cultural restraint holding them back from riding scooters. Sitting astride on a motorcycle is not only even more unladylike, but even more difficult to do especially when clad in a sari. So scooters became the preferred ride and self starters gave them wings.
Chennai women haven't looked back since. Or looked left; nor to the right. A quick disclaimer is necessary here: I am not a misogynist, nor against women driving. I quite like women and believe they should not be confined to their kitchen as is widely believed. I am just observing a fact of life as I see it; namely, that women driving two wheelers hardly ever look left or right. The Chennai man is worse, carrying on conversations on a tiny mobile phone held between a tilted head and a shoulder while threading his motorbike at great speed through the thick traffic with nary a care for his own safety nor that of other road-users. I suppose they (the Chennai women, that is) are merely treading the path well-worn by their menfolk for whom they have considerable respect. The culture demands they show respect for their menfolk and follow the latter's dictates, desires and norms. This is ensured in many different ways. This is a subject for an entire blog or two by itself and I shall attempt it one day.
Sacrifice of one's own life for their menfolk and family is a trait firmly ingrained in the Chennai woman and reinforced ever so often through the popular lores, TV shows, and novels. Sacrifice (even of one's health) is considered not a noble act, but a required one that is quite normal. So it is not surprising that the Chennai woman cares not for herself while driving. She looks ahead, picks a spot and goes for it. They believe that the menfolk would take care not to hurt them. An admirable faith in their men. Somewhat misplaced to my eye as yet unaccustomed to Chennai ways. They slice, they dice and then they slice and dice some more; not in their kitchens, but in the traffic. Vegetarians, they may be, but they are not afraid to play chicken on the streets. Locking eyes with men is not considered very virtuous in local custom but that is not applicable to the Chennai woman on wheels. They look straight through you and are not deterred by something so simple as a car in between them and their objective. I am sure they don't see anything between themselves and their objectives - an amazing singularity of purpose.
I am not sure if anyone has systematically studied the social impact of greater mobility enjoyed by women in Chennai. But I am sure that this mobility hasn't made their menfolk very happy, judging by some of the stories I have narrated in other posts and by the warnings from various "caste-group leaders" against marrying outside their own castes.
As for me, I say more (horse) power to the Women of Chennai and look forward to seeing "biker chicks" on Chennai streets. Alas, I cannot join them as I have been restrained by my daughter from getting astride a bike again. I shall have to be content with admiring them from the relative safety of my car; perhaps with a wave and a smile.
Back to the floral femmes of Chennai and their driving habits.
The addition of self starters to scooters single-handedly put Chennai women on wheels, more so than any other single factor; even more than all the other factors combined. How so? The act of kicking the beast to life was (and still is) not considered a "womanly" thing to do. So when a button could do the job, women were freed from a major cultural restraint holding them back from riding scooters. Sitting astride on a motorcycle is not only even more unladylike, but even more difficult to do especially when clad in a sari. So scooters became the preferred ride and self starters gave them wings.
Chennai women haven't looked back since. Or looked left; nor to the right. A quick disclaimer is necessary here: I am not a misogynist, nor against women driving. I quite like women and believe they should not be confined to their kitchen as is widely believed. I am just observing a fact of life as I see it; namely, that women driving two wheelers hardly ever look left or right. The Chennai man is worse, carrying on conversations on a tiny mobile phone held between a tilted head and a shoulder while threading his motorbike at great speed through the thick traffic with nary a care for his own safety nor that of other road-users. I suppose they (the Chennai women, that is) are merely treading the path well-worn by their menfolk for whom they have considerable respect. The culture demands they show respect for their menfolk and follow the latter's dictates, desires and norms. This is ensured in many different ways. This is a subject for an entire blog or two by itself and I shall attempt it one day.
Sacrifice of one's own life for their menfolk and family is a trait firmly ingrained in the Chennai woman and reinforced ever so often through the popular lores, TV shows, and novels. Sacrifice (even of one's health) is considered not a noble act, but a required one that is quite normal. So it is not surprising that the Chennai woman cares not for herself while driving. She looks ahead, picks a spot and goes for it. They believe that the menfolk would take care not to hurt them. An admirable faith in their men. Somewhat misplaced to my eye as yet unaccustomed to Chennai ways. They slice, they dice and then they slice and dice some more; not in their kitchens, but in the traffic. Vegetarians, they may be, but they are not afraid to play chicken on the streets. Locking eyes with men is not considered very virtuous in local custom but that is not applicable to the Chennai woman on wheels. They look straight through you and are not deterred by something so simple as a car in between them and their objective. I am sure they don't see anything between themselves and their objectives - an amazing singularity of purpose.
I am not sure if anyone has systematically studied the social impact of greater mobility enjoyed by women in Chennai. But I am sure that this mobility hasn't made their menfolk very happy, judging by some of the stories I have narrated in other posts and by the warnings from various "caste-group leaders" against marrying outside their own castes.
As for me, I say more (horse) power to the Women of Chennai and look forward to seeing "biker chicks" on Chennai streets. Alas, I cannot join them as I have been restrained by my daughter from getting astride a bike again. I shall have to be content with admiring them from the relative safety of my car; perhaps with a wave and a smile.
