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“How dreary can a night look?” - One needs to ask a woman for an answer. While scrolling through countless posts on my social media account, a particular account caught my eye. It was called “Women walk at midnight”. The simple idea of normalizing the culture of walking was extraordinary. I made up my mind to join these ladies for one of their scheduled walks. Two weeks into my stay in Delhi, they announced a walk on 18th January. As excited as a little girl, I quickly signed myself up for it. This walk was special. We were going to cover the areas of Zakir Nagar and Shaheen Bagh via Jamia which had made global headlines as constant protests against the legislative decisions of the central government of the country has been taking place there. Layering myself up, I was ready to face the searing cold winds lashing outside my window. I quickly made a few calls to my folks just to make sure that they do not call me back again and catch me red-handed walking late in the night. There was a lot getting used to for someone like myself who’s not from Delhi such as the sharp contrasts existing between various neighbourhoods of the city. I was living in the southern part of Delhi where nothing ever went wrong. As planned, we had decided to meet at the starting point at 10:30 PM but as unexpected as it can be my cab driver declined to go to Zakir Nagar. I jokingly asked for his name and my suspicion of him being a true blue Hindu was proved right immediately. Names in this country can either save you or leave you vulnerable. On reaching there we saw rows of people in large numbers standing shoulder to shoulder holding candles, raising voices in unison. They had the light of hope in their eyes. We joined them too, not realizing that this was just the warm-up session. It was the most beautiful sight of the day for me. I had never imagined a protest to be this picturesque. The walk started at eleven. I remember myself not talking much to the other forty or so women walking beside me. I lent ears to their stories; one of them had recently moved to India and the other one divorced her husband and now travelled the world to champion for the cause of human rights. They all had resilience written across their faces; a story to tell and a story to hide. We came across the faces of women very similar to our own in these areas. There was nothing segregating us. While walking the onlookers and even some auto-rickshaw wallahs wondered if there was something wrong with us? They were shocked and asked if we need to be dropped anywhere. We happily replied- no, we are just walking. A concept, somehow new to them. Closing in towards Shaheen Bagh, one cannot overlook the condition of the areas where the Muslim community dwelled. The state of hygiene and sanitation was ghastly. I certainly did not enjoy walking there then, how can one be expected to live there? The protest at these places was a celebration- music and poetry flowed in the similar breathtaking fashion of a perennial river. The question which kept coming to my mind was how far are we ready to go to protect our rights? When will we stop? - Till we break the system or the system breaks us? I wanted the world to know that I am walking and there’s nothing that’s apolitical about it. I was overwhelmed by emotions after walking for over four kilometres without a trace of fear. There were things I wanted to communicate with those women, mostly gratitude for their presence but the words never reached their ears. Nonetheless, I was successful in forging a bond with them which was just unique to us. My feet were tired but I was happy. There was still chaos rising in me but I realized, there is nothing walking on foot cannot cure. It can help calm the seas inside you and I think all of us felt the same way at the break of dawn.