A woman travelling alone gets all kinds of attention, a small fraction of which is either warranted or welcome. Most of it comes gratis, garnished liberally with advice, suggestion, warning and, on some lucky occasions, good parathas.
The food-givers are usually concerned aunties. They worry at my lack of a companion (very sad in a woman), my obvious lack of concern about my lack of companion (“so innocent”, said one), and my biological clock. However, all of this unnecessary conversation comes accompanied by good food from well-used tiffin-boxes. Unfortunately, I tend to ruin this sort of encounter by being flippant, usually about a woman’s place in family and society.
The non food-giving categories are more annoying, and don’t offer any mitigating savouries. There is the over-friendly older man wanting to tell his life’s story (“then, in 1968, I decided… ” etc.). I used to think that this category just wanted somebody to listen to them. I have come to the conclusion that they are looking specifically for younger women listeners, whose intermittent inputs can presumably be ignored in favour of a one-sided monologue. This category is boring and somewhat self-obsessed, but essentially harmless. The most annoying is the younger man who will offer his services as a friend, companion and guide with immediate effect. “You are travelling alone?” — a sleazy gleam appears in his eyes, and he is stuck to you like glue. This is the hardest sort of co-traveller to get rid of. Pointing out gently that you are not afraid, and that you certainly don’t need his protection rarely works. Neither does being distant, or moving away. In my experience, outright rudeness is the wonder formula in these cases — try “I don’t like men who talk to me”.