02 November,2025 07:51 AM IST | Mumbai | Akshita Maheshwari
Anshika Kushwaha pays 40 times extra for cabs because she feels unsafe in public transport at night. Pic/Sayyed Sameer Abedi
When two Australian women cricketers stepped out of their hotel in Indore for a simple cup of coffee on October 25, they could hardly have imagined that a man would touch them inappropriately. Yet, for most women, that fear shadows even the most ordinary outing - whether it's for work, leisure, or just a caffeine fix.
In response, Madhya Pradesh minister Kailash Vijayvargiya remarked that the players should have been more "careful". Why step out without security? Don't they know that stepping out is an invitation enough to be molested?
He remarked, "There is a huge craze for cricket players [in India], like it is for football players in England. Players sometimes don't realise their fame but they are very popular," he said. But fame has little to do with it - women are harassed not because they're recognised, but because they exist in public. Men enjoy the unspoken privilege of belonging in public spaces, unquestioned.
A 2018 study under World of India's Girls (WINGS) by the NGO Save The Children found that one in three women lives in fear of being touched inappropriately. When fear becomes so routine, some women have learnt to buy their way out of it, with a sort of "safety tax" - the extra cost attached to simply moving through the world with ease.
However, money doesn't always help. For stars scrutiny is ever-present. An entourage becomes an unsaid basic requirement, just so a balance can be maintained. Actress Huma Qureshi tells us, "I always has at least one bodyguard near me at all times. Security at home is also tight but, that's normal in our line of work, because we are so exposed to the public eye," she says.
Celebrity or not, no woman is spared today. Delhi resident Rochi Kale, 27, who is pursuing a PhD, says, "I could get an apartment for Rs 8000 in other areas but I pay Rs 12,000 right now. I can't live in a commercial area. I have to live in a residential, more family-oriented society, even though it's farther from my college. My male counterparts can stay closer to college, though."
Living farther from college means more commute cost as well. "I would love to take bike taxis but I've heard of horror stories from other friends," she says. Kale tells us about how a bike taxi driver started having lewd conversations with her friend. Another started asking if this is a route she takes every day - an immediate red flag for women.
"If I take a bike taxi it would take me Rs 40. But with a rickshaw it's somewhere between Rs 100 to Rs 110. If I take a shared e-rickshaw, it's just Rs 20 but that means waiting to find one, plus it's not last-mile connected so I still have to walk a specific distance," she says, "My best option is also the most expensive one."
Then there are the safety measures that a single woman in Delhi has to take. "Of course I carry pepper spray and a keychain that doubles as a knife. Those are some Rs 500," says Kale. "Another thing I do is I keep men's shoes outside my apartment to make it look like a man lives here, and I change them every two months or so, so that it doesn't raise any suspicion."
The use of pepper spray, weapon keychains, or tasers is widespread. Global forecasts estimate the industry size at Rs 54,000 crore in 2025. It's expected to grow to Rs 88,860 crore by 2034 at a compounded annual growth rate of 5.7 per cent.
The hardest loss for Kale is the opportunity cost, one that cannot even be quantified. "Almost all networking events happen after 8 pm. I have to come back home by then. Time is money. I lose it all the time just to ensure my safety," she sighs.
Shaili Chopra went as far as calculating the extra cost of her safety. The 45-year-old is the founder of Gytree and SheThePeople, a media house dedicated to telling women's stories. She found that one-third of all her monthly expenses go into ensuring safety.
Chopra first felt the pinch of a safety tax early in her career, when she was sent on a work trip, with only a tight budget. "They put me up in a not-so-good hotel," she says, "and I decided to pay out of pocket and stay in a standardised chain hotel." Since then, she's been noting all the places where she spends a little extra to remain safe. That private cab instead of a rickshaw, paying extra for aisle-seat flight tickets, only buying 2-tier AC tickets in trains, not taking flights in the middle of the night even though they're cheaper - all these costs started adding up.
After all this, more expensive doesn't always mean safer. Many women also prefer rickshaws to cabs, feeling that they can at least jump out of a rickshaw if the ride takes a bad turn.
"In trains, a first-class ticket is a box; you're confined in a space with a strange man," says Chopra.
For stand-up comic Aditi Mittal, travel is a big part of her job. She often goes on tour, where she ensures that she stays at a decent hotel. "You can't afford to save some money and stay in a slightly suspicious hotel, where a male comedian won't blink twice before staying," she says. Since Mittal lives with her mother, she goes the extra mile to remain safe at home too, with triple lock systems, motion sensors, and video cameras outside.
"There have been multiple occasions where I've had to pay extra for security. Though it's hard to quantify in total, hiring a bodyguard for the day can cost upwards of Rs 10,000 per person," she says, "There's also the opportunity cost of public transport. So many times, I see a bus I can get into but then one realises that one is in Delhi, and you can't just do that. Same is the case with bike taxis."
Women seem to feel most excluded from public transport. Every woman we spoke to told us they find public transport either entirely inaccessible because of the fear of groping, or avoid it at all costs after a certain hour. In Delhi alone, a 2022 World Bank survey revealed that 88 per cent of women had experienced sexual harassment while using public transport. For Anshika Kushwaha, the cost is 40 times expensive. "What would've been a Rs 10 ticket on a local train turns into a Rs 400 cab ride," says the 23-year-old Lokhandwala resident, who avoids local trains at night.
Even though these expenses may seem small at first, they add up over time. Kushwaha also adds, "As a woman, I have to maintain a very good relationship with my building security guard. He knows my exact address, everyone that comes in and goes out of my house. Of course, everyone does the basics of sharing food and tipping. But I make sure to tip them very well, just in case."
She also goes to a gym farther from her building because the one that's closer seems shady. "The nearer gym has a monthly membership that costs some Rs 15,000. But my current gym is a fancier one. Celebrities come there so there's a general understanding of safety, but their monthly membership is Rs 30,000," she says.
Kushwaha feels that she has to be aware of her surroundings at all times "and that's the case with every woman". "The cost of living as a woman is now a toll that's hardwired into my brain. It's a part of the pores on my skin and the air I breathe. I wouldn't be able to quantify the fear that has lived in the bones of generations of women," says Mittal.
The constant apprehension takes its toll. Chopra says, "Such fear has translated into buying safety. That means there are some people who can't afford this cost. There are certain women who will always have to put themselves in precarious situations."
Even if safety comes at a price tag, it's a commodity women strive to buy. Advocate at Majlis Legal Centre Audrey D'mello says, "Privilege does come into play, of course. But women have to spend more to be safe across all classes. Even if they live on the streets, they pay that extra price compared to men - in where they sleep, what they do to use the bathroom."
She says, "Women live with the fear that they can be sexually violated anytime. This is debilitating as we make our lives smaller in the hope of staying safe and yet there is no guarantee. The price we pay for the notion of safety is very high."
But the state is supposed to be responsible for the safety of all of its citizens, right? The privatisation of safety sits at odds with that idea. Women are expected to pay their way out of it. And increasingly it seems that this is happening by design, that the system is rigged on purpose. "Cities are being designed to exclude women," says D'mello, "If you step out of a busy train station, even late at night, there's a sense of safety because of the hawkers and people selling things on the street. There's life around you. But cities are increasingly removing them, leaving more isolated spaces. That denies women the ability to be out after a certain hour or to access public areas freely."
The safety tax is a cost that women should never have to bear. Chopra puts it in practical perspective: "They could have used this money for something else."
I always have at least one bodyguard near me. Security at home is also tight but that's normal in our line of work, because we are so exposed to the public eye
Huma Qureshi, actor
The cost of living as a woman is now a toll that is a part of the wiring of my brain. . I wouldn't be able to quantify the fear that has lived in the bones for generations of women
Aditi Mittal, Stand-up comic
Sometimes, players don't realise their popularity. Players are very popular, so they should be careful. It's [this incident] a lesson for us and for the players as well
Kailash Vijayvargiya, MP Minister
Rs 10,000
Day rate of one bodyguard
1 in 3
Women live with the fear of being touched inappropriately
Rs 54,000 cr
Size of women's safety devices industry in 2025
This is how much extra two women spend on safety every month - in addition to regular living expenses.
Rochi Kale, 27
. Rs 14,000 total
. Rs 4000 rent
. Rs 8000 gym membership
. Rs 1200 commuting
. Rs 500 safety equipment
. Rs 300 shoes
Anshika Kushwaha, 23
. Rs 17,100 total
. Rs 1600 commute
. Rs 500 tips
. Rs 15,000 gym membership
