Page 15 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

“It’s a double-edged sword, isn’t it?” Mom was now thoroughly engrossed in the conversation.

“You know it.” Sona gave Mom an adoring look. “On the one hand, it offers women a safe space. On the other, it doesn’t address the root cause of the problem. Why do women need women-only spaces in the first place? If sexual harassment and violence weren’t such a widespread problem, we wouldn’t need them,” Sona explained.

The women around her listened with rapt attention, drawn to her brilliance. Riya, with her eyes glued to Sona, sat beside Amrit aunty. Tara was perched on the arm of a couch, coolly sipping from her glass, watching Sona’s intellect blow people away. Juhi had returned to her spot on another sofa beside her mother and now fussed over her remarkably unfussy child.

I knew Sona had observed it as she continued, “There’s also the other unintended side-effect. It’s called the Zenana Dabba effect—women’s compartment effect. Once women are relegated to the women’s compartment, their presence in the ‘general’ compartments is seen as an anomaly.” She made air quotes. “Tara has a fantastic example that I use regularly in my classrooms. Tara, would you like to share?”

“Sure.” Tara balanced her wine flute in her lap as all eyes turned to her. “I was once visiting my cousin in Mumbai. When I had visited her before, I used to take her son with me in the ladies’ compartment, but this time, he was a teenager, tall for his age. So, we boarded the general compartment, where a man unabashedly rubbed himself against my back. When I made a scene, nobody moved. Nobody intervened. When I huffed and puffed and shouted at him, another man shouted back, ‘If this bothers you so much, why don’t you travel in the ladies' compartment?’”

“What audacity. Such arrogance!” Mom said with a gasp. “And what flawed logic!”

“Quite right,” Sona said. “Once women are allowed a women’s only space, their access to the general public spaces becomes more difficult, more fraught with the threat of violence.”

My eyes darted to a few women, some of whom I knew only by face, as they scrutinized Sona, probably doubting her marriageability. She was talking politics, after all. How sacrilegious, how unfeminine! Perhaps if she was explaining a scientific or a medical concept or how a particular software worked, she could’ve made a nice, intelligent, attractive wife. But opinionated, political women were so undesirable! I relished the stunned looks on their gaping faces.

Sona had a Ph.D., and I shouldn’t have been surprised at her smart mouth and sharp brain. But hearing her talk like that made me throb, as if, in that moment, there was a direct connection between her brain and my cock. With every dazzling word out of her mouth, more and more blood rushed to my loins. I needed to get up and walk away, but I couldn’t tear myself from her brilliance, even as I imagined her perfect, red lips sucking me violently. This woman was certain to be my downfall.

MIHIR

With self-control honed over the years, I redirected my mind to the conversation unfolding before me.

This time, it was Tara asking the question. “What’s the other side of this double-edged sword, then?”

“Well, I’m glad you asked,” Sona said dramatically, and the two women shared a grin. “The benefit is that these exclusionary spaces have fostered friendships and alliances that would not otherwise be possible. Sharing your life story with a woman who commutes to and from work every day with you, finding shared joys and interests, even love that might otherwise be missing from your life; all this is possible only because men aren’t allowed in these spaces. Some, though definitely not all, are also safe spaces for transgender women, and that could be an important element in allyship. Sometimes, the invisibility it affords can actually be advantageous, and that’s what I work on. My research examines the liberatory potential of gendered public spaces and how it contributes to a better understanding of feminist and queer politics.”

“Okay, I didn’t understand everything you just said, but you are freaking awesome!” Riya declared when Sona had finished.

“Mmm,” Amrit aunty reprimanded her.

“I said freaking, not that other word!” Riya protested. When Aunty shook her head, Riya resigned with a slump.

“Riya is right,” Mom declared with a wink at the young girl. “Sona, you’re brilliant.”

Sona blushed and lowered her eyes, and my dick went berserk again.

Mom placed a hand on her arm and said, “But we’ve bothered you enough.” She looked at me. “Mihir, could you please accompany Sona to get a drink and something to eat? We have put her on the spot for far too long.”

Ah, there she was, my shrewd mother.

I gave her a knowing nod and stood. “It’ll be my pleasure,” I said to Sona. I was my mother’s son, after all, a player of the finest caliber.

But Sona wasn’t one to be outdone easily. She rose graciously and looked at Riya. “Come, Riya, let’s get something to drink,” she said to the girl and flashed me a quick smile.

I celebrated silently. We were definitely playing.

“Is she allowed to have soda?” Sona asked Amrit aunty.

The older woman smiled. “Only for tonight.” She held up a finger at Riya.

Riya rejoiced with a silent squeal of joy as we walked away from the group. “Thank you, thank you!” she said with her arms tight around Sona’s waist.

My eyes traveled there. I imagined holding that waist as I bent Sona over and pumped hard into her. Fuck, I needed to stop making up scenarios. There was scant chance this woman would end up in my bed.

“What will you have?” I asked Sona as we approached the bar.

“Anything non-alcoholic,” she said.

“And a Coke for me,” a soda-deprived Riya chirped.

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