I chose a not-so-upmarket bar in Kochi, donning a ‘decent’ dress and determined to face the ‘pseudo progressiv... Read More

Kerala’s bars have always been a man’s world. To assess how a woman will be treated in such a setting, Kochi Times reporter walks into a bar and orders a drink. Here is her first person account:

I wasn’t sure when my editor asked, ‘Why not a first person narrative?’ while discussing if God’s Own Country, which has just reopened the bars, is alcohol-friendly for women. My rational mind raced to the time when my mom wore a pained look when someone made the false accusation that her daughter shared a drink on her wedding night. Also to that moment when dad had this quizzical expression when he saw those neatly arranged bottles with plants on the balcony of my flat. Being a woman who has experienced the side effects and after effects of alcohol consumption, I told him that I needed to get permission from my parents.

When I finally confirmed that I was game for the adventure, he told me to go with an open mind and not with any preconceived notion about men who drank. Though I nodded, I prepared myself for the worst.

I chose a not-so-upmarket bar in Kochi, donning a ‘decent’ dress and determined to face the ‘pseudo progressive, hypocritical Malayali chauvinists’ who I thought believed that they could drink to their heart’s content but heavens would fall down if a woman were to have some wine or beer.

As I neared the door, I could sense my courage draining away as if from a leaking tap. If something goes wrong, if some insensitive comment was uttered, what will I do? Ignore it or give it right back? Sensing my dilemma, my colleague who had come to drop me off reminded me that giving up should not be an option at all.

Hiding the apprehensions behind a broad, faked smile, I approached the door. “Hey! Where are you going? This is not a restaurant!” screamed the watchman to my utter shock. In the strongest tone I could muster, I replied, “I am going inside.” He offered to help me out if I was in search of someone. I told him, ‘I need a drink.’ Even before he could recover from disbelief, I managed to enter, even as so many pairs of eyes looked at this ‘alien’. ‘Madam! You cannot go inside’, a voice piped in. I turned and asked, ‘Why not?’ The culture shock was obvious on this staffer’s face as he offered to arrange a ‘safe’ spot for me to drink. I smiled at him but refused the offer and walked ahead with a smile, very much like the recently arrested actor amid the booing mob, while being taken to various places by the cops.

My heart was beating faster and louder, as I took in the scene that I had only seen in films. Then came the anti-climax. Contrary to my imagination that all men would just stop drinking and stare at me in slow-motion, I found none of them bothered too much about the new guest. I managed to find my cousin who had promised to accompany me as a stranger and sat next to him. The man on the opposite side of the table seemed a tad uncomfortable. Though curious, he clearly did not want to make it obvious.

The waiter arrived but didn’t want to serve me anything. He demanded that I leave but I held my ground. The manager was summoned and he gave me a lecture on why it was unsafe for a woman to be in a bar. He too made the offer of a solo roof top drink.

When it became certain that they wouldn’t budge, I had to reveal that I was a reporter on an assignment. “Ok ok! Do whatever you want,” said the manager, smiling from ear to ear.

As I settled in my seat, I saw two unwelcoming faces -- that of my gregarious cousin and the curious stranger who was acting cool. Asking the cousin to help me select a good wine, I started chatting with him. The person opposite was now concentrating hard on his phone.

When I looked around, the scene was, well, disappointing. Not even one of the customers were looking at me but discussing all kinds of things from Dileep to GST. Ya, there was the occasional glance but no stare, no ‘sketching’ or any nasty comment!

The man opposite finally warmed up to me and said that he thought I was in search of my wandering husband and was indeed surprised to find a woman in a bar in Kerala. Of course, it would have been a different matter in, say, Bangalore where he had once worked.

After spending almost two and a half hours in the bar without any ‘untoward incident’, I paid the bill and walked out with a new revelation, even as my cousin kept taunting me all the way back home, ‘See what you got! You wanted a sensational story about intolerant men. Most of the inhibitions are in your mind! May be women in Kerala should try coming out of the walls they themselves have created.”

I could not but agree that the experience was not what I had expected. Nevertheless, they wouldn’t have even served me if I had not let the manager know that I was a journalist. Of course, it can’t entirely be a bad thing that women don’t have free access to something that is injurious to health’. But then, it is injurious to men’s health too.

Go to a bar? No way!

Most Malayali women, even those with an independent worldview, will not dare to go to a bar or even drink in the presence of their family. Because, they believe that the consequences will be beyond their imagination. In fact, it wasn’t easy finding women brave enough to be quoted for this report.

Anjana Kampurath, a homemaker from Palakkad, says, “I have never been to a bar in Kerala and I do not think I will do so in future. Maybe to lounge bars but not local bars. In fact, even in parties, it is still unacceptable. The men or even women around may not say anything but they will definitely judge you.”

Devika Mathen (name changed), who works in Bengaluru, says she loves to enjoy a drink every night before dinner but confesses that none of her friends or relatives including her liberal brother know that she drinks. “Thanks to supermarkets here in Bengaluru, it is easy for girls to grab their favourite drink. Neither men or women in Kerala like a girl who drinks. Why should I earn a tag of a ‘loose girl’ unnecessarily?” she asks.

Narrating an instance when she once asked her dad to take her to a toddy shop while on a family trip, Anamika R, a law student from Wayanad, says her mom even called her a ‘traitor’ while her brother was seething with rage. “Imagine me going to a local bar? My mom will commit suicide,” she exclaims.

Assistant professor Noora Kamar says that no woman would risk character assassination for a mere drink. She adds, “The moment the news of a girl having a drink gets out, there will be all kinds of charges. And I cannot ever imagine going to a bar where men would stare and even rape me with their eyes.”

