After telling my friend that I didn’t like the accommodation we were staying in on Sudder Street, we start looking for another option. An Australian guy at Curd Corner tells us he is staying in a kind of dormitory on the top floor of the Golden Apple Hotel. We go up and have a look – it is much cleaner. It is one large room with a series of enclosed cubicles, each has a single bed, a TV and a fan. And only for 500r a night!

On moving there a few days later it starts to seem less idyllic. I do enjoy the exposure to Indian television – which from my limited channel flicking is largely dominated by shows similar to X-Factor, So You Think You Can Dance and ‘- insert country name- ’s Got Talent’. I am disappointed to see a boy, a goat and three glasses of brown liquid get sent off stage by the judge (a Bollywood Actress) who thought that a goat shouldn’t be made to perform. Disappointed because I have no idea what was about to go down. Another boy comes on and starts eating a chappal. I am feeling pretty comfortable in my little box.

I then realise that I am the only woman in the dormitory, I feel like I vaguely shouldn’t be there and become quite defensive.

What we couldn’t tell when we originally checked out the rooms was that the opaque glass dividers are not actually that opaque at night. I worry about turning on the light in my room as it makes me far more visible to the neighbours. For that matter – I don’t get changed in my room and if I do I am careful. One day my neighbour is staring at me through the glass divider.

I get stressed every time I go to the bathroom because of some encounter with a chubby middle-aged man wearing only a towel. They seem equally wary of me, if I’m in there they don’t come in. But still I feel uneasy in the shower cubicle. I think it’s odd that they wouldn’t have separate bathrooms for men and women.

The bathroom consists of two showers and one toilet. The other toilet got ripped out recently according to the Australian that recommended the place. The lack of bathrooms between a large number of people means they end up quite dirty – one clean a day doesn’t quite cut it. Later, I find a bathroom in the lobby that becomes my little haven of cleanliness and privacy – a whole room to myself, with a door that locks and toilet paper.

Some of the men in the bathroom make some violent snorting sounds in the showers. Must be a thing to clear out their nasal passages. Some smoke while on the toilet – I assume to get things going. I am surprised to find that everyone just throws their rubbish into the corridor.

I feel that all my concerns are in my head. They are an amalgamation of things that happened while travelling through Rajasthan and Goa, warnings from Western and Indian women alike, the comparative separation of the sexes I see everyday, being called to on the street and stared at.

My judgement on them is based on what I assume is their judgement of me as a woman sharing this space with them.

Have I become paranoid? Bigoted even?

It is my last night staying in the dorm before going to Bangalore. I have a new neighbour. I see him staring at my through the glass and meekly yell “Hey, stop that”. Later I can see standing up on his bed then lying back down again. He repeats this action several times until he has the courage to pop his head over the top of the partition to look at me. “Hey, stop that” I kind of yell again.

Later I am up at 3am in the morning to get ready for an early morning flight. I do not turn my light on while I pack my stuff. Then, I notice my neighbour is awake again. He stands up and looks over the partition again. Staring he makes gesture like he wants something to drink. I say “No, get out of here”. He gestures again and puts his hands together like a Namaste.

I give him my water.