The still afternoon of the Deccan Plateau provides plenty of time for ruminations on the past, the present and the uncertain future. It has me accustomed to a sedentary rural life where I covet my spaces with a ferocious intensity. It has, over the years, become what I call home and my comfort zone. The past 4 and half odd years are a bit of a blur with no real spatial divisions. Spending last semester away did not rupture that continuum either. ( I sound so post-modernist dah-ling!) But apart from the obvious differences that the changed environment of last semester provided, the lasting flavour from that season, for the lack of a better way to describe it, is masculine.

The sense of "liberation" in walking the streets without a millions stares, the beer guzzling, the general unkeptness ( I now do my eyebrows regularly, and wear heels occasionally), the casual sex. Fine, maybe not the last one- but the general feel of not being in a relationship for the first time in my adult life all combined to give a sense of being that for some reason I seem to associate with maleness.

This conclusion seems entirely contradictory to any feminist stance that i claim/purport/aim to possess. Why do I associate confidence, being comfortable in your skin and a lessened sense of emotional vulnerability with masculinity?