The steering wheel ceiling

IT all began with a simple need. My chaotic schedule was crying out for a driver, and my preference was specific: I wanted to hire a woman. To me, it was a straightforward requirement, born out of a desire for comfort and a quiet wish to support a woman in a male-dominated field. I posted an ad online: “Wanted: Experienced female driver for SUV city driving,” and expected a flurry of applications. A flurry I did get, but not of the kind I anticipated.

The response was a masterclass in unsolicited advice and stereotypes. One uncle called to earnestly ask, “Are you sure? A man would be stronger if the car breaks down.” But the truly surprising reactions came from my friends — the smart, educated, progressive women in my life. My WhatsApp buzzed with jokes about needing to give a “two-hour lecture on Google Maps” and sarcastic wishes of “good luck with the parallel parking lessons!”

For a day or two, it was all light-hearted banter. But as the jokes continued and no real applicants emerged, the humour began to wear thin. A slow-dawning, uncomfortable realisation set in. Beneath the veneer of these jokes lay a dark reality. I was confronting a wall of societal conditioning, and the most surprising bricks were being laid by the people I least expected. The collective message, even from my own circle, was a resounding, “A woman driver? That’s hilarious!”

This is the great paradox of our society. We celebrate when a woman becomes a Vice-Chancellor, a cabinet minister or even the President. Our hearts swell with pride for our female scientists at ISRO guiding missions to the Moon. We have shattered the glass ceiling in the boardroom and the laboratory.

But when it comes to the simple, everyday act of a woman professionally taking charge of the steering wheel, we laugh. This is where the true, insidious nature of conditioning reveals itself. We often believe that change trickles down from the top — that if a woman can be the President, the path for a woman to be a driver is clear. But it isn’t.

True change must be a bottom-up surge. It begins when we stop laughing at an ad for a female driver and our first instinct is to trust, not to doubt. I see sparks of that surge every day. My heart genuinely jumps with joy whenever I see a woman in a Zomato or Amazon T-shirt confidently navigating the city roads. These women, with their quiet competence, are the real face of grassroots change.

My quest for a driver continues, but it is no longer just about convenience. It has become a personal litmus test for the change our society so proudly professes. I am still waiting for the day when my advertisement is met not with laughter, but with a list of qualified applicants, ready to take the wheel.