Wheels of change

A door-to-door survey conducted in the early 1990’s in Tamil Nadu’s Pudukkottai district revealed that of the 2.9 lakh illiterates in the region, more than 75% were women. A primarily agrarian society, Pudukkotai depended on the sun-parched barren land for sustenance, which, coupled with poor irrigation systems and below-national-average literacy rates, had its families caught into an interminable cycle of poverty. A local NGO, later backed by the government, then decided to mobilise support for a large-scale literacy project for the underserved locality. As part of the programme, close to 30,000 women volunteers were trained as tutors. When pessimism about the project not moving ‘fast enough’ arose, it was decided that the tutors and their pupils be taught to ride bicycles. To gently introduce the then revolutionary idea, and to help women overcome their apprehension, a number of motivating cycle songs were sung in the rural communities. One of them went like this- “learn to ride the cycle sister, set in motion the wheel of life, sister.” Soon, in Pudukkottai’s dusty bylanes, women riding bicycles with their husbands on the carrier was a common sight. The classes, held out in the open in the village streets, were a huge success. By 1998, the district reported 100% literacy, increased independence of women, higher incomes, reduction in cases of domestic violence, and a clear improvement in lifestyle. Mobility is essential to empowerment, and India’s so-called metropolitan cities could take a lesson or two from the Pudukkottai experiment. A patriarchal value system prevalent in the self-proclaimed ‘modern’ cities is still highly resistant towards the idea of women riding two wheelers, a convenient and relatively affordable means of commuting. Somehow, riding a bike is made out to be a moral issue, and this method is used to discourage girls who are raised to believe that they are the bearers of the family’s ‘honour.’ The more liberal families, those who brag about watching Discovery channel instead of daily soaps, would still only consider small, pink, ‘girly’ scooters. This thinking isn’t really a problem when the basic reason behind the choice is the girl’s small frame and hence a physical inability to handle bigger machines. But some retrospection is needed when it emanates from the line of thought that limits ‘proper’ places for women to visit, and the way they should sit, laugh, and talk. In cases where families aren’t against girls riding bikes, other commuters on the road do every bit to make things difficult for them. From insensitive, lecherous ogling to deliberate attempts at distraction, men with misplaced ideas of manliness do all they can to keep the women off the road. Just like ‘upper-caste’ priests historically hijacked religion, men with a superiority complex have always tried to hold biking in an exclusively male domain. We Indian men need to realise that love and respect beget love and respect, and girls deserve to experience all the fun and utility of motorcycling as much as anyone else.