The Day When Some Waves Calmed Down

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“Women are made for cooking and giving birth.”

There is no need to even touch a vehicle.

I do remember these words even today.

Somewhere back in my mind, these words keep ringing back in my mind.

Even years later, I keep carrying those words back.

“Trauma bonded.”

After a point in my life, it became very difficult to handle life by managing public transport.

I slowly started feeling more and more uncomfortable going in share autos, stuck in between people.

Instead, I stopped going, avoiding, escaping.

I have finally reached a point where I am only comfortable with the people I know.

I always feel like people should learn to ride, drive.

I am not talking about gender.

I am no more living in a village whose circumference is 2 km.

I asked my father if I could learn to ride a scooter for 12 and a half years.

I asked, I asked, and I kept asking.

But the same words I used to receive.

After 12 and a half years.

I stopped asking, I gave up.

That's when the story started. My neighbours started noticing the changes in me, my discomfort. My father's friends started asking me whether I could drive a car or not.

To whom I replied, I can't even ride a scooty.

People felt that a scooty was basic for my lifestyle.

I couldn't do anything, attend anything… I wanted to do so much… because of transport issues.

I couldn't do.

It's like my hands are tied… for years I suffered from this feeling.

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On May 12, 7:30 am, 2024…

My father started shouting my name.

Irritated, I was thinking, “What the hell happened now?”

Instead of asking, I just went down to him.

I was standing there, talking on the phone.

He saw me and was like… okay, take this.

Switch on the scooty.

I didn't think much. I took the scooty keys, switched it on, and was trying to ride.

Within no time, I learnt balancing.

He never asked for the keys back.

I kept the keys myself.

By then, I had a basic idea of how to ride a scooty… but never practiced.

For the next one week, I kept practicing down the lane of our street.

I don't know anything, still I used to keep trying.

Looking at me, all your street uncles kept seeing me growing up, stepping forward.

One taught me how to keep it standing.

One uncle taught me turns, the other road rules, basic rules… parking.

Little by little, people slowly started teaching me things.

After 10 days, I applied for a licence. One of the uncles gave me a contact and overlooked the process.

After a few days, my father said… keep the scooty keys available… if I need it, I'll use it.

How exactly it happened is somewhere a little question to me.

His friends and colony uncles, who are also his friends…

Everyone took a stand that I needed to learn a vehicle.

His close friends gave him an option: either to give me scooty keys or car keys.

He chose scooty.

It's not like he wanted to.

After a point, he was forced to give up his values of why women are born and had to give me the keys.

He hated every part of this process.

That can be clearly seen on his face.

I looked at him and minded my work.

I don't have time to sit and process his facial emotions and cry.

Somewhere because of that attitude, life moved on.

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Aug 9, 2026

“Father calling.”

I attended. The first sentence I got to listen to was, “What's your favourite colour?”

I answered, “It's RED.”

“Okay, bye.” The call ended…

After 2 more weeks…

I received one more call from my father.

“Okay, we have checked all brands of scooty and we have finalised this one.

I am sending you the brochure. Can you check and tell me, what do you think of this one?”

After 3 more days.

“We have tried for red colour everywhere, but they stopped the production.

We can't get a new one even if we order. Maybe we can find it in second-hand scooties. But we prefer a new one for you.”

After 2 more days.

“What colour do you prefer, other than red?”

I said, “White.”

The following day…

I received a call saying, “We got the white colour in only one showroom. We are going now to give the advance. Is there any change in your decision?”

I said, “No.”

That day I sat on the floor. I don't have much emotion, but the people who said all those things to me and now are really bothered about the colour of the scooty and are rushing to give the advance because they are afraid… they are afraid what if it is sold out.

Am I dreaming? “It's too long and a lot of sequence of scenes to even dream. I would have lost track of it.”

So, on Krishna Janmashtami, we gave the advance and booked the scooty.

I was not physically present in any of these.

Both my brother and father are handling these things.

06/09/2026

My brother knocked on my door and said, “Get ready by 10. We will go and get the scooty.”

I got ready. They asked me whether I had eaten or not. Past 10, they asked me whether I wanted to go in an auto or cab to the showroom.

I said, “Anything is fine. I am okay with an auto. You can book an auto,” I said.

Both my father, my brother, and me went to the showroom. I was sitting in the middle; they both were on either side of me. (Happened for the first time in my life.)

The scooty got registered in my name by my father's request.

He wanted it to be in my name itself, it seems.

We waited. The agent showed me the scooty. I looked at it and felt that it should be named as “Moon.”

Did all the basic protocol. They called me for signing. Registration was done. They handed me all the documents.

They asked for photographs, did some photo session.

The agent was looking at me throughout the process.

There is not a single bit of emotion on my face.

Instead, my father was happy, calling people and telling them… and I can see the happiness on my friends' faces.

My friends keep texting me, asking for pictures. Everybody close to me is excited, more excited than they usually are.

My brother and I came home riding the Moon home.

That's peace.

My brother said he will give me a helmet.

In the evening, my father called me again and asked me,

“Where do you want the pooja to be done?”

I told him a couple of temples.

He chose the second one.

We went to Karmanghat Hanuman Temple to do the vehicle pooja. Throughout the process, my father was super excited, happy, and I could see it on his face… so evident.

We did Darshana, we ate Prasadam.

Spent some time together and came home.

They want to order biryani… they want to celebrate it…

But I said it's okay, we can eat at home as Mom has already cooked.

Then came our little demon, my niece, “Chitti ne Bandi chaala chalk bagunde. Naku nachinde.”

By this point, my age was 33 years.

I came to my room on that day and was thinking, what actually changed in the last 15 years? At least, what actually changed from the day he gave me the scooty keys by force to giving me the new scooty keys?

I don't know, I can't explain. Probably there are “n” number of minute things.

He hated every part of him giving me those keys even after 12 1/2 years of asking, and on the other hand, he gave me new scooty keys with a lot of happiness.

“LIFE HAPPENED.”

I didn't cry, I didn't feel elated… there are some waves that calmed down on that day, and I slept peacefully.