<p>Ask Shwetha Jairam about living solo in the City and the corners of her lips start curling upwards even as she fights it. And she’ll tell you a story, “It takes three men to deliver water to my house, it seems.” The laughter can’t be contained anymore. “They all stand at the door, looking in. I’m not sure what they are hoping to find. A stray undergarment maybe.” She doesn’t seem annoyed. Just mighty amused. <br />Once mirth subsides, she says: “It’s a pleasant City till 10 pm. And then you start getting jittery. Maybe it’s because people tell you that it’s not safe to travel alone late at night.” She pauses, ruminates and continues, “Safety is a concern. You feel a little vulnerable. The last place I lived in, it took exactly three days for people to figure out that I lived by myself. There was a creepy watchman around who’d get really excited every time the lights were turned on in my room. Also, finding a suitable space is difficult. Either the price is too high or the location is terrible.” <br />Since finding a place is such a nightmare and the young prefer to live the lives of the young, woe betide the single girl who has to depend on public transport. Shwetha, who woke up and smelt the autowallas’ greed decided to invest in a two-wheeler and in her words, “the cantankerous old man at the showroom refused me a loan because I lived by myself!” <br />Amidst stories of dubious landlords, strange men, stranger neighbours, she declares, “I recommend living by yourself even if the landlord raises his eyebrow every time a guy walks into your house.” She explains that it has made her more self-reliant and responsible. And Bangalore seems to get a special thumbs up from this girl who has also lived in Chennai and Hyderabad. “People are generally more friendly here. Even autowallas are nice, if you're polite to them.” To justify this she tells you an anecdote. While walking along the streets of Hyderabad, in supposedly posh Punjagutta area with a male friend, she was spat on, on three different occasions. She was wearing jeans. The men were chewing pan. And all this because she was with a gora! <br />Having lived in Chennai as well, she says, “Chennai is very chauvinistic, be it in terms of language or in terms of gender. In fact, if you don’t speak the language and you go in to a store, you’ll be ignored unless you speak the language. That has never been a problem in Bangalore.” Others may beg to differ.<br />On the flip side, of course, is a little matter of the big M. She confesses that parental pressure in regard to marriage would be much lesser if she were living with them in Chennai. She attributes this to the “single women need to be protected” mindset. <br />She ties her thoughts on the matter into a neat bow with the thought: “Living in the City is fun. But you require a certain amount of money.” <br /></p>
<p>Ask Shwetha Jairam about living solo in the City and the corners of her lips start curling upwards even as she fights it. And she’ll tell you a story, “It takes three men to deliver water to my house, it seems.” The laughter can’t be contained anymore. “They all stand at the door, looking in. I’m not sure what they are hoping to find. A stray undergarment maybe.” She doesn’t seem annoyed. Just mighty amused. <br />Once mirth subsides, she says: “It’s a pleasant City till 10 pm. And then you start getting jittery. Maybe it’s because people tell you that it’s not safe to travel alone late at night.” She pauses, ruminates and continues, “Safety is a concern. You feel a little vulnerable. The last place I lived in, it took exactly three days for people to figure out that I lived by myself. There was a creepy watchman around who’d get really excited every time the lights were turned on in my room. Also, finding a suitable space is difficult. Either the price is too high or the location is terrible.” <br />Since finding a place is such a nightmare and the young prefer to live the lives of the young, woe betide the single girl who has to depend on public transport. Shwetha, who woke up and smelt the autowallas’ greed decided to invest in a two-wheeler and in her words, “the cantankerous old man at the showroom refused me a loan because I lived by myself!” <br />Amidst stories of dubious landlords, strange men, stranger neighbours, she declares, “I recommend living by yourself even if the landlord raises his eyebrow every time a guy walks into your house.” She explains that it has made her more self-reliant and responsible. And Bangalore seems to get a special thumbs up from this girl who has also lived in Chennai and Hyderabad. “People are generally more friendly here. Even autowallas are nice, if you're polite to them.” To justify this she tells you an anecdote. While walking along the streets of Hyderabad, in supposedly posh Punjagutta area with a male friend, she was spat on, on three different occasions. She was wearing jeans. The men were chewing pan. And all this because she was with a gora! <br />Having lived in Chennai as well, she says, “Chennai is very chauvinistic, be it in terms of language or in terms of gender. In fact, if you don’t speak the language and you go in to a store, you’ll be ignored unless you speak the language. That has never been a problem in Bangalore.” Others may beg to differ.<br />On the flip side, of course, is a little matter of the big M. She confesses that parental pressure in regard to marriage would be much lesser if she were living with them in Chennai. She attributes this to the “single women need to be protected” mindset. <br />She ties her thoughts on the matter into a neat bow with the thought: “Living in the City is fun. But you require a certain amount of money.” <br /></p>
