Ratlam Diaries

The story really is of a journey, through the border of MP and Raj, also known as the 'Heartland' of India.

Part 1: The Queen Sized Bed

This eventful journey started with a halt at a plush, pampered stay at Sayaji Hotel, which sort of out of reach for me, generally speaking.
The deluxe suite had a home theater system, a Video Ipod, A multimedia system with internet, and 2 large heavenly beds, which sunk in by a foot, making it by far, the best bed I have slept on, yet.

The background of course is that I have never stayed at a place so blatantly luxurious (expensive) before. Hence the excitement, To tell you the truth, I was besides myself, moving around with a broad grin - thankfully, I didn't have to showcase the stupidity and the sheer LS-ness to anyone else. The sad part was the stay lasted for less than 12 hours, and it felt sinful to get up at 7 AM, out of THAT bed and out of THAT room.

Sneha, who was accompanying me in the adventure had booked an A/C cab for the 2 days of our stay. We hopped on, and set out for Ratlam in the morning, while Sneha was trying to explain to me her liking for Air conditioned anything.

Part 2: The pretty little thing

Sneha was my only companion on this rather unforgettable tour, it became important for me to get along with her.
Now, Sneha is a pretty little thing. Wears sunglasses when out in the sun, wears a perfect smile when talking to anyone and everyone, and moves her hand gracefully when talking.

She is really, a work of beauty and grace.

Hence, most of the time, when she would speak, I would just look at how she moved her hands, or settled her hair, or put on the glasses and took them off (which happened exactly 243 times on the way to Ratlam).

She is also, the only woman I know, who was told thrice by complete strangers (all women) that she was beautiful, and that they would like to call her, if she didn't mind sharing her number, all in front of me. She has some sort of a charm and an ease about talking to people.
She is in the right business then I suppose, of understanding people. I guess extracting insights becomes that much easier, when the respondents are falling in love with you!

Part 3: Maneuvering Through The Bosom of the 'Heartland'

National Highway 79.
The road form Indore to Ratlam takes about 4 hrs to cover.
The road was brilliantly and consistently not there. There was just no road. We drove on mud and dust, and what felt like a huge chain of crates left by some serial meteor attack, or footprints of a 50 foot woman, who chose to walk the whole way. Eeshwar, the cab driver, told as that the road is in great condition, after Ratlam, which at that time seemed like a useless piece of information. We took a break from the Marathon jiggle-all-muscles exercise, and ate, what was, the best poha I have ever had. And then followed it by drinking, what was and would be for a long time, the worst chai I have ever tasted. The chai was unbelievably hideous to taste. It wasn’t a liquid to start with; it was a thick gooey, brown... thing. I promptly returned the cup, and chose Masti Mango Juice, which was nice.

Once back on the err… road, Eeshwar really tried his best to make sure we had our share of thrill on the way, that for sure, kept me awake for the rest of the journey. Sneha, was panicking, first demanding and later requesting him to drive more carefully. This added as a fuel to Esshwar's now puffed ego. The POWER, baby, was with him. Cocky Eshwar and Panicking couple - (Me and Sneha of course), hence kept ourselves engaged through out the nerve wrecking journey.

Part 4 : Bandhej - The worst kinds

After we finished our work in Ratlam on the first night, we set out into the heart of the town, Manekh Chowk, where we were told, you get the best Daal Baati in the state. We went to Shriram Daal Baati waala.
It was a room, with iron desks arranged along the corners, and the walls had cemented seating arrangements. Me and Sneha occupied a desk, and ordered for 2 daal Baatis. After having learnt the technique to eat it, by staring at other desks and asking Sneha questions that sounded stupid, we went on to eat 2 plates each. At this point, when I was trying to break the baati into crumbles and mix the ghee in it, Sneha pointed out to me, that everyone in the room was staring at us, and actually talking among themselves about us - they made no attempt to hide this.
Then we realised that actually, there were no women in that place, not even with family. And for that matter, we hadn’t seen a single woman outside on the road, or in the market.
It was 8 PM then.

We finished our food and came out and were waiting for Eeshwar to finish eating. We stood on the road, realising that everyone there was staring at us as well.
We chose to ignore. Actually, there was no other option.

An old man came rushing past us, brushing my shoulder rather painfully. I didn't react. He did. He turned back and yelled, "idhar kya raste mein khade ho, dhandha karna hai toh kahin aur jaao" I stared back at him, filled with anger and irritation. It was an unnecessary conversation I thought, so I turned back. But it didn’t end there.
He continues ranting, "aurat log ko raaste pe kya kaam hai, bekaar raaste rok ke khadi ho jaati hain. Ghar pe baitho jao .... mumbled gaalis" I didn’t react. It was too late by the time I realised what he had said.

After a gap of 5 min, we heard the typical, "Chammak Challo, Nikli Kidhar, Chal tujhe jannat dikhata hoon"
I have heard this before. But this time, I was shocked at the shamelessness with which it was said. There was no sign of guilt, shame, nothing. These were 4 boys, 19-20 yr olds, looking at us in the eye and saying this, and not stopping with it. I pulled Sneha out of the way, when one of them tried to pull her Kurta, trying to tease.
They weren’t planning to speed off after that, the engine was off!
We backed off and stood inside a thela, assuming the chai wala as our protector, who seemed scarily indifferent to what was happening. They left at their will, after having achieved the satisfaction of having ‘teased’ 2 women.

In a span of 10 minutes, my confidence in myself and to an extent in human kind in general, was in the dumps.
I felt naked.
Among all the times when I felt embarrassed, shocked and abused, this was very high up. The sheer lack of reaction our part and forthrightness on theirs, was a dreadful combination.
The Chai wala later asked us, what we thought was so important that we had to hit the road after dark.

All this might seem natural, as it seems to me in hindsight. But what sets this incident apart from others is my inability to react. There was no reason for them to hesitate. We didn’t give them any.
I was simply, too afraid.


Part 5 : The Lost Battle

Colourful Bandhej Prints
Pink - Orange - Blue - Yellow
Ghoonghat till the chin
Chooda - Nathni

There was nothing unusual about the women in Ratlam. The scene was what we had expected out of a small town. I had gone there to talk to people, about television and about life there in general. What I didn't expect was to be provoked and challenged to feel empathy and unfortunately, sympathy.

Ratlam is a colourful confluence of two of the most stringent clans in the country – The Rajputs and the Marwari jains. While the food and the clothes were mesmerising, the state of women there was embarrassing. Some statements that were made during the groups for research form a story, from a distant world, from our world.

We went there to understand what they liked on Television, what we found was that a television was not just an entertainment medium - It was unfortunately, their lone companion.

More on that in another post