Geetanjali Krishna: A licence to hope and dream

Whenever I chat with young women, who have used the opportunities given to them to step out of traditional roles, I find that it's the simplest ideas and the smallest steps that have the power to transform lives. This struck me again last week, when in Chandrawal Nagar in north Delhi, I was introduced to a group of young women, who were learning to drive. For people like us, driving is commonplace. But for these women, several of whom came from conservative Rajasthani migrant families, learning to drive has given them the freedom to hope - and perhaps, the power to steer their own futures.
 

As we walked through the conservative neighbourhood, women with covered heads peeped shyly from half-opened windows. Most of them stay at home, while their menfolk work mostly in the unorganised sector. It must have been quite a task to persuade these families to allow their daughters and daughters-in-law to learn driving, I mused. Rajeev Singh of Delhi-based Stairs Foundation (which is conducting these driving classes for the first time in this community), said that initially, it was tough to convince the families.

"Few of us had really stepped out of the house alone before this," said the women. "In our families, women are usually not encouraged to go out and work." Singh and his cohorts explained to the community how driving would offer the women a chance of some safe and profitable employment. This was something the women understood. "Times are changing now," they told me. "It's no longer practical to expect to maintain a good standard of living with a single income in Delhi. This programme has given us a chance to contribute significantly to our household income even after we marry."

Their expressions told me they found this prospect exciting. "When I sat behind the wheel for the first time, I felt as if the whole world had opened up for me," said Neelam, who had come to meet me with her daughter and old mother-in-law. "I feel now I can go wherever I need to, and it is important to have a person at home, who can drive if anyone needs to go anywhere." She said that once she got her licence, she would be able to drop her daughter to school instead of depending on erratic school vans. Her mother-in-law Chandrawati agreed: "I'm happy she's learning to drive, it's going to be nice to not have to depend on the menfolk to go to places."

On the other hand, young Naina and Radhika were dreaming of getting jobs after they got the licences. "There are many jobs that require a driving licence - ambulance services, bus conductors, private driving gigs and taxi companies," they told me. "Maybe we could also start driving for one of the app-based cab companies." Since the women had also undergone training in practical spoken English, self-defence and etiquette, they felt they'd gained confidence as well as received impetus to become more independent. The programme is barely a month old, and they are getting ready to apply for driving licences, the community and the families are slowly rallying behind them. Several other women in the community also want to learn to drive now. "They tell us to learn quickly," giggled Naina. "For, they're waiting for us to pass out so that they may get their chance to learn."

I couldn't help but notice the solidarity they shared, as they set off towards the training car, four women at a time. "Maybe we could all set up a women's taxi service together," said Naina. "We're all so close that earning together would be like a dream come true."