It’s easier to let the mask drop when there is a chance of no repercussions, says Sushmita Ray.
The train was speeding through the night. AS-4, the air-conditioned three-tier compartment of a Mumbai-Bangalore train, had surprisingly few passengers. In fact, the cubicle in which Radhika Menon had her seat, had just her and nobody else.
No one on her side, nor on the opposite, or the two sideway seats near the aisle. It made crying much easier, really. She didn’t have to turn her face into the cold glass pane and peer sightlessly into the dark night, to avoid being seen. She could curl up peacefully in a corner, weep miserably, scrub her nose with her ‘dupatta’ and curse the men in the world.
I, ME, ALONE She had been doing just that for the last three hours, since the train moved out of the station. Radhika would have continued to do so, had it not been for the young woman in the next cubicle, also travelling alone.
Unfortunately, the other woman had to share her cubicle with a group of loud male executives, who had bribed the attendant into giving them some booze.
The liquor, the shared wisecracks about common foes, and their office politics, was spicing up their evening; it did nothing to lessen the nagging headache that plagued Sudha Haldipurkar.
On her way to the loo earlier, Sudha had seen the empty cubicle with only one woman occupant, and had made a mental note of it. When, a couple of hours later, the cubicle still remained empty, she decided to move seats.
Radhika frowned. This unexpected invasion of her privacy was not acceptable at all. So far, she had finished cursing only half the men in the world. Meantime, Sudha had made herself comfortable in the lower berth opposite Radhika, settling down with Judith Krantz’ Scruples .
It’s not that she hadn’t noticed her companion’s puffy, tear-streaked face or heard the sniffles. In fact, it was the irritating sniffles that finally got to her. Finally, she asked, “Problems?”
Till the train chugged into CST station several hours later, Sudha was all ears to Radhika’s several hundred problems. By the time she stepped off the train, shoulders hunched, weighed under the heavy baggage of unresolved issues, she was ready to single-handedly fight her train companion’s battles. Whoever would have believed that 24 hours prior to this, the two were perfect strangers?
TRUTH IS STRANGER THAN FICTION Confiding in strangers. Why is it so much easier to open your heart out to a complete stranger? Often, most of us are guilty of stone-walling people close to us. It could be some action of theirs that has bothered us. Or, their apathy in a situation that is distressful. Whatever the outrage, the hurt makes it impossible for us to open up and tell the person that he or she is responsible.
Yet surprisingly, all the pent-up anger, the confusion and the hurt can be channelled and retold with startling clarity to a stranger.
Says Dr Dayal Mirchandani, psychiatrist and psychotherapist, “This could happen to anyone. Sometimes, it’s just the pressure of the burden you carry that makes you want to share it with a stranger. This way, you are not likely to be judged, unlike family or friends, where that fear exists. With a stranger, your secret is safe.
In psychotherapy, we believe healing occurs through listening. Similarly, confiding in a stranger provides us with an opportunity to reflect on issues that are otherwise sidelined on account of our busy lives. So, talking to a stranger, who is travelling with you, is the natural thing to do.”
Says Delhi-based Sumita Dasgupta, “It’s true. I think it’s easier to confide in strangers, because the person does not know you at all. Neither does he know the people who are involved with your story, so he hopefully will not be judgemental.”
Perhaps that’s true. But often when an emotionally burdened person is off-loading troubles, it’s more because she has found a sympathetic ear, than for any real hope of a solution. But, is this heart-to-heart dialogue possible only when there is same-gender bonding? Or, does a woman find it equally comforting to talk to a man?
My Mama Told Me Not To