In my short travels to the countryside, I have seen men gather on junctions, bus stops, and tea stalls, in their most casual clothes, at any time of the day. From their conversations that I have overheard, I know that their topics of discussion could be anything — a newly sworn-in chief minister, the reign of a previous political party, a recent funeral, a newly constructed bridge, or people who have left abroad for jobs. These scenes of cigarettes, chats, and chai give us a larger picture. Men can fix their leisure times and claim public spaces without a tinge of uneasiness.
This made me wonder why we do not stumble upon women in their most comfortable clothes sipping their favourite drink outside a shop or a junction, talking about any topic — politics, food, monotony, boredom, work, marriage, travel, desires, and everyday banter.
With sprawling spaces in the city — parks, theatres, libraries, gyms, cafes, restaurants, malls, is the situation in the city any better? Here, too, every experience reveals complicated layers of social and cultural structures. It opens subjects that shake our complacency — of infrastructure and accessibility, and who can afford leisure.
“Spaces in the city are densely constructed. Does the civic body think of accommodating free accessible corners? The spaces are built-up and controlled,” says Sujata Mody, a city-based labour rights activist and researcher. Public spaces say a ton about how the working class is treated. “While the middle class and upper middle class can afford gatherings in restaurants or cafes, for a working-class woman, public spaces matter,” she notes. But it becomes less significant when only a certain stratum depends too much on these spaces. “Nobody is bothered about cleanliness or accessibility to toilets,” Sujata adds. When even basic needs are denied, how can one think of leisure?
We would see domestic workers relaxing during downtime and having their meals together. While it appears as leisure, Sujata remarks that these workers are constantly watched even during free time. They are often not allowed to interact with anyone outside the gated residences. For J Gracy, a sanitation worker who works from morning till afternoon, cleaning and segregating waste, household chores occupy the rest of her time. For workers like her, leisure seems to be a concept quite aloof.
Sujata has also seen women from informal sectors gather outside places like dhobhi shops, where conversations occur. “These brief casual gatherings become a space for sharing concerns and helping each other out,” she explains.
Free time with a clause
Women, tied down with domestic chores, often find it hard to have time for themselves. For many, leisure would mean “switching off their homes,” says Sujata. A Rasiya Banu, a content writer who commutes daily from Vyasarpadi to Vadapalani for work, says she has not seen women go out in groups for enjoyment. “Women go out usually for the family to take loans, for a function, or to buy groceries. There is an unsaid expectation that women shouldn’t be doing anything for themselves, they should be dependent on someone, and should not step outside alone,” explains Rasiya. Temples are often the place where women collectively go, comments Sujata, adding,“there is a religious obligation to that visit. Temples have become regimented.”
Rasiya also informs about the parks in her neighbourhood, which can be a potential hangout spot. She says, “I don’t see women using parks for themselves. They either take their kids or grand kids to play there.” Helen Amili, a homemaker, comes to her neighbourhood park in the mornings and evenings for her children — in the morning hours before the school bus picks her children to school and in the afternoon when her kids are dropped off. Every day, she sits on a bench near the heap of school bags, and watches them play. She says, “I call my friends from the neighbourhood and we go out to purchase groceries. We sometimes gather at our homes when we are off the household chores.” She waits for Sundays for mini-getaways to beaches with her family.
But somewhere in the lanes of her neighbourhood, Rasiya says the traditional ways of social interactions haven’t died down entirely yet. She finds married women playing games like dhayam and paramapadham outside their houses, on verandahs or streets. “These women usually play in the afternoons when their husbands are not home, when they are free after doing their domestic chores.”
Mobility and access
Vanessa Peter, founder of the Information and Research Centre for the Deprived Urban Communities (IRCDUC), admits that the city has numerous spots. “Definitely the city has spaces like gyms, cafes, restaurants, parks, and so on. But all these are accessible by women who have formal employment, and a structured work timing. They might have means to meet, but there are factors like mobility and cost involved, too.” The city’s two major pedestrian plazas — in Pondy Bazaar and Khader Nawaz Khan Road, she says, are designed in the poshest areas of the city. This makes safe mobility easier in inner city, but a restriction in the periphery.
While Vanessa admits that she has the privilege of meeting her friends, but as the clock strikes 7.30 pm, it marks the transition time from work to familial responsibilities. While she doesn’t have to cook at home, she says some women have to rush home and change form to a domestic goddess. Despite having the privilege and resources, can they afford free time? “However late a woman comes home, at the end of the day, it is she who has to cook.” She slams the societal mindset. “It’s not an individual’s call to break off this ongoing system, but it needs a collective change.”
If anyone tries to break the routine of prioritising family, it isn’t considered normal, informs Rasiya. “Even a woman having chai at night is frowned upon.” Rasiya took around 10-12 years to start hanging out with her friends outside. Working with Vyasai Thozhargal, a tuition centre in Vysarpardi, broadened her perspectives on feminism and freedom. “All my moves were scrutinised. It took my family time to accept the concept of women hanging out. It is disheartening to see women of my age living a very different lifestyle than mine,” she says.
Now, after her work, she comes back and teaches at Vyasai Thozhargal till 9.30 pm and sometimes till 10.30. Her leisure time starts after that. When her friends are available, and she feels like relaxing, she says, “I go to Pulianthope to have biriyani, to Mount Road to have lemon tea,” she chuckles. The beach is another hangout spot for her. “But it took years to earn this hard-earned freedom.”
Having bonds outside families or pursuing a career for a woman isn’t a seamless ride, says Kalki Subramaniam, social scientist and gender rights activist. The struggle intensifies for a trans woman. “As far as I know, NGOs are the only non-discriminative spaces.” Kalki highlights the limited interactions of trans women, “For trans women who come out and live independently, fellow trans women are the only ones they interact with, that too, mostly in houses. I don’t think there are enough spaces for trans women to gather or have chai without the public gaze. It’s a dream space — where we can talk about our lives and beyond, politics, art, our dreams.”
Gatherings in public spaces like “parks or sports clubs” become a privacy breach for many in the community. “We are not many in numbers, and when we gather, we become a subject of curiosity. People are interested in what we are talking about and what we are wearing,” shares Kalki. While there are CCTV cameras and surveillance to combat threats to safety, it further becomes a “threat to our privacy, to human relationships”.
Kalki shares that for trans women, especially living on the outskirts of the city, rituals within the communities are one of the important and rare spaces of socialising. She says, “There are rituals that happen before and after gender-affirmation surgeries, and festivals like Koovagam, and Chamaya Villakku. While the rituals are performed in houses, the festivals are celebrated in mandapams.”
While it’s a grim truth that the voyeuristic gaze constantly lurks around, Kalki personally feels pubs and temples are comparatively comfortable spaces to be in. “While in temples people behave themselves, in pubs, you can just be yourselves. It’s a space where people don’t bother you if you say a ‘no’.”
Dark spots and safety
The core question remains, as Vanessa says, on “reclaiming public spaces”. “For a woman living on pavements, under the flyovers, and bridges, what does leisure or public spaces mean?” Vanessa, who has worked closely with around 45 resettlement sites in the city, highlights the need for women-led safety audits. In areas like Kannagi Nagar, Semmenchery, Ennore, and many others, Vanessa observes, “There are many dark spots in the settlements.” There is either a lack of street lights or narrow alleyways, which significantly increases violence. Women and children are mostly prey to this.
While on one side, the city is growing, affluent areas are becoming safer and more accessible, the poorly-planned resettlement sites are still grappling with basic amenities. Mothers from the slum settlements say that ‘We do not let our daughters go out and play beyond six in the evening’, reveals Vanessa. “Safety shouldn’t be a criterion for affluent areas, but for vulnerable pockets, too. When these basics are ensured, other questions on leisure and recreation are automatically answered. I suggest that the Greater Chennai Corporation should institutionalise women-led safety audits in all the slum settlements and homeless spots. Only then an enhanced mobility and enabling environment will be ensured,” she says.
