Thesis excerpt

It was a sunny summer morning when I decided to walk to the neighboring market instead of doing the usual 3-minute drive. I asked the cleaning lady who works at my house, Noreen, to accompany me, because despite having lived in Model Town for the past eight years, I had never walked to Shezan Bakery before, and I was nervous doing it alone. It showed as a 13-minute walk on Google Maps, which seemed too long and too inconvenient to do in 39C weather, before I had even started.

Still, I ‘prepared’ myself by changing out of my t-shirt to shalwar kameez & dupatta (the local attire which dons a loose, knee-length shirt over pants and a scarf on the side) because I did not want to attract any undue attention while walking on the street, and I thought such ‘modest’ and ‘traditional’ dressing would help me mesh better with the other pedestrians. I then put on sunblock, sunglasses, and a big hat; shoes with a thick sole so it made walking on the hard unlevelled pavement easier; and slung a small bag (with money and tissue paper like essentials) across the front of my body so it was always in my line of sight. I grabbed my water bottle and was finally ready to go. Noreen was dusting the bookshelves when I asked her to walk with me to the market – she looked a little confused about why I’d walk there, but also understood my apprehension in going alone. She immediately put the duster aside, wrapped her dupatta over her head and body (a more conservative form of dressing, considered a form of protection from unwanted attention – but also works in protecting from the sun!), and was ready to go.

The walk that followed was of two people following the same route but with very different approaches, mindsets, and styles of walking. Noreen seemed to be unaffected by the heat or the traffic. She was striding through the crowds and cars in her old, flimsy looking sandals, dupatta perfectly intact atop her head despite the quick, mechanical movements. She was focused in reaching her destination and kept her eyes directly on the path. She took no breaks – for water, or to wipe her sweat – and made no extra conversation, except to check up on me, or to warn me of litter on the road. She had automatically assumed the role of a leader, the caretaker, during this walk, as though the streets belonged to her, and she was responsible for my wellbeing while I was out here. It was sweet and amusing how the roles had reversed, given that I was usually the leader, responsible for her wellbeing, inside the house.

I was quite uncomfortable and grateful to have a companion who could fearlessly cross the street in the absence of zebra crossings. I was hot and sweaty and conscious of the way I appeared (the hat made me stand out more than it made me blend in), or perhaps it was just my awkward body language, but I felt I was disturbed by – and was also disturbing – the momentum of the street. Apart from the exceptionally high temperature, there was a barrier at the end of every street corner that we had to wait to be opened or had to climb over.

There were no zebra crossings or speed signs to slow down the cars, not even near the school that we crossed. The school rush had caused a traffic jam, as almost every child had come in their own individual car. We passed by a large mural “sponsored by Master Paints” that I had never noticed before and looked like it had been painted by the school children. We also passed by a few water coolers, but they were locked up, so no passer-by could actually drink from it. I stopped once to drink water from my bottle, and multiple times to fix my slipping dupatta that I was clearly not used to wearing. I kept my gaze low, but I was also hyper-aware of everyone around me. I was happy to shadow Noreen’s quick and confident steps: the sooner I made it to the Bakery, the sooner I’d be able to complete my errands and go back home.