It’s been a long while since I’ve been here. Have been travelling, taking the trains or bussing it to places outside Bangalore. It’s curious, what a little time out of your own city and space can do to your soul.

Last month, I was in Goa and then in Bombay. Both fabulously liberating experiences. In Goa, I stayed with friends at one of the oldest guesthouses for tourists in Arambol – which is a quaint little place, hilly and full of surprises around every bend. It was end of season, so there were very few foreign tourists. It was lazy and quiet. In my Goan avatar of shorts, t-shirt, beach bag and sunglasses everyone mistook me for phoren which was amusing and annoying at times.

But it was liberating to be able to just go into a restaurant or stand at a roadside stall and have breakfast by myself without anyone giving me a second glance. I have discovered that despite the nervousness I sometimes feel going into new places by myself I love travelling on my own and in this country. It makes my life whole in a way other experiences can’t. And the uninterrupted thinking time is just the right take-one-get-one-free kind of offer you want to hold on to forever.

I also noticed on these journeys that I was less bothered by men than before. Having had terrible experiences in public spaces, I’m always on high alert. This time around, I was alert and I did notice the numerous men around me, but it never reached a point where I felt threatened. Maybe it’s because I am older, perhaps I am picking my battles more consciously than before.

I realise that in public spaces, I am so aware of my self as a woman and therefore so aware of every other male presence that I immediately expect a clash of some sort. That even a glance, then, is charged with sexual undertones. Perhaps, it’s out of fear that this happens. On these journeys, the more I focused on my own enjoyment, the less the men bothered me (and there were some who made it their mission to bother me for a few hours).

Bombay, I am convinced is the city to be single in. If you have someone to cook and clean for you and you have a place to stay, that is. For two weeks, I took the train from Santa Cruz to Churchgate at 6.41 in the morning, trained for 12 hours to be a better actor and got home by 10.30 in the evening. It was all gloriously sweaty and shiny.

Back now in namma Bengaluru, I see a lot more trees uprooted and cut down, parts of the city from Devaiah Park to Navrang Circle look like they have been bombed. A child has been swept away by rain. S is ill and can’t come to help with house work. I haven’t written in ages. Large questions loom on the horizon.

Still, I feel safer in my body than ever before, I love myself more than I ever have, I feel an oozing love for every being and thing in the world and I guess this is what is called hope.