Mind the gap: Metro rail a relief for female commuters

Article 28 of Section 2 of the constitution of Bangladesh says "Women shall have equal rights with men in all spheres of the State and of public life."

If Dhaka is taken as a sample to examine how the sphere of the state and public life is treating women, the best optics is to look at public transportation. Mobility after all defines how far one can go.

When metro rail was inaugurated with a designated female compartment, women flocked to stations.

Trina, a 25-year-old university student, said, "From the first moment I boarded the compartment, I knew I would never go back to the bus or any other public transportation for that matter."

In Dhaka's local buses, there is a designated area exclusively for female passengers. In 2008, the government mandated bus owners to allocate nine seats reserved for women, children, and individuals with special needs. In almost all the buses, a sign in Bangla reads "Mohila o protibondhi ashon 9 ta (Nine seats for women and disabled)".

The reality is, while these seats are intended for women, if a man occupies one of those seats, it is rare for a male commuter to comply with a woman's request to vacate it.

On the face of it, a city transport system that can offer its residents safe, affordable and quick access to their destinations doesn't immediately come with a gendered narrative. But space is very gendered, and spheres of state and public life are the manifestation of how a particular culture sees a certain section of people.

The fact is a bad commute is worse for women than men. Congestion and delays in traffic, and unaffordable and inaccessible public transportation are common inconveniences that affect both men and women. But on top of it all, women have to face the near-constant threat of sexual harassment. It invariably restricts job prospects or requires aviation-like coordinate plotting.

Another commuter, Muna, 22, said, "I don't know any women who haven't faced various degrees of sexual harassment while travelling by bus in Dhaka.

"Especially at night, you never close your eyes no matter how jaded," she added.

In the literal sense of equality, there shouldn't have to be reserved seats or compartments for a particular gender. But, considering the constant threat and hostility women face while commuting, the designated female compartment of metro rail, more than anything, is a sign of empathy.

It is crucial to include a gender perspective in transportation infrastructure. It is a world built by men for men. For generations, women have been minding the gaps and are trained from an early age to be mindful of how and where they occupy space.

Neighbourhoods, public transport, workplaces, schools, sports clubs, colleges, hospitals, and social institutions, no place bars harassment for women. Unsafe spaces include empty streets, poorly lit alleys, isolated bus stops, and public toilets. The list is never-ending.

"These things really can affect people's self-worth and general comfort in their daily lives," said Procheta, 28.

So, when the metro cruises through the mock-pastoral part of the city and the sun hits illuminating faces of women, all at ease, their guards down, it is an image to be cherished. It is as though for a brief time, before departures, all the women are living "Sultana's Dream."

There's the wage gap, the bonus gap, the promotions gap -- and then there's the commuting gap. Reaching every station, when the voice of the female announcer comes along saying, "Mind the gap!" it is as though she is speaking on behalf of all the women who had to constantly mind their spaces, she is taking that burden once and for all.

So, the female compartment comes as a sign that perhaps the city is not an unempathetic and outright hostile one.