Girls, (un)interrupted

The other day, I bumped into the broker who’d helped me rent my way into a cozy 1 BHK apartment in Santa Cruz two years ago. Him asking after me brought up an impressive haul of positive memories. But then there was also the society senior who decided to accuse me and my roommate of disposing of our female hygiene products the wrong way, thus jamming up the common drainage system, with no basis in truth. Only after repeated protests did the man concede that not all acts of inconvenience come from the classic suspects in an average housing society— bachelor girls living on rent. While my roommate and I have so far got away easy with minor hiccups in our otherwise satisfying single lives, Writer-Filmmaker Shikha Makan’s documentary film ‘Bachelor Girls’, follows the journey of those less fortunate.

Some of her girls talk about the ridiculousness of needing a “character certificate” from guardians or acquaintances to “pass the test,” and others recount rousing the wrath of society secretaries due to their association (real and imagined) with late nights, non-ethnic clothes, male friends, or even differing food habits. Shot across a social cross-section, the movie reaches out to women of different positions and pursuits —Indians, expats, young, middle aged, strugglers, salaried employees, English speaking, Hindi speaking, outspoken, submissive, townies, (Su)burb girls, corporate achievers, celluloid stars. The sample crowd is exhaustive, connected by the common denominator of gender and single-hood. At one point, actor Kalki Koechlin laughs exasperatedly at the idea of people being inconvenienced by adult women engaging in sexual encounters in the (rented and dented) privacy of their apartment, and I am reminded of my friend *Anusha Damani, whose Virar neighbours called her ‘gandi ladki (fallen woman) jo dhanda karti hain’ (who carries out prostitution here) when she called over her only few friends in the city, who happened to be men. Woes worsened when Anusha rescued two strays, a dog and a cat, cautiously training them to not howl or litter. While I can’t vouch for the pets’ etiquette, I do remember one shrill-pitched woman interrupting our rendezvous to complain about the “loud barks” of the dog that was, interestingly, fast asleep. I’d stared helplessly at my friend who put off moving town-wards fearing rent issues, but the eternal optimist pointed me towards the neighbouring complex, which had refused tenancy to her Muslim (girl)friend, citing flimsy excuses. At least she, a Hindu woman, was not doubly disenfranchised, see?

Girls like Anusha can either reconfigure their lifestyles or relocate their address to wiggle through the minefield that is an uninterrupted single-girl tenancy. At Shikha’s screening, the apartment-mate of one of the interviewees (who was refused access to food delivery personnel and her maid by scheming society strongmen), spoke up. Placing her own situation against this blatant violation of living rights, she recalled “playing them at their own game”. “When my father passed away, making me the sole occupant of my apartment, I was suddenly deemed single (sans male protection) and asked to vacate. I told them that after my father’s demise, they (male figureheads) were my guardians. While my submissive act changed their hearts, I hated myself for the compromise” said the member of the audience, adding solemnly that her chubby self was sure to score more sympathy than her conventionally attractive girlfriends’.

Horror stories, featuring aunties who casually wander into your hallway, and landlords who resort to police-assisted harassment, were challenged by a broker gentleman who, having recently “arranged accommodation for several female students without any hassle”, declared “only ten per cent of societies” to be as rigid as Shikha portrayed. In an impromptu rebuttal, men and women, concluded that chances were younger, college-going females evade suspicion by as they aren’t old enough to be “unacceptably single”. On screen, brokers spoke of “under-the-table cash settlements” that, in certain situations, can buy women their dream apartment.

Out of the theater, I called up Anusha. “I’m moving to Borivli,” she declared, her voice a telling mix of relief and trepidation. “What’s the catch, Anu?” “Nothing, nothing. I just can’t eat non-veg,” sighed the chicken-wings fan.

*Names changed on request