We Loved An Idea

I wanna Hold your Hand

All about Monsters and How to kill them

Monsters change shapes and faces when we grow up. Adulthood comes with its own set of monsters that cease to reside under our bed. They take up spaces inside our heads, always instilling fear in us. Adulthood for women is fraught with perils both within and without. Paranoia is encouraged rather than cured in India. It's always better to be safe than sorry. Clichéd as it sounds, it is still the mantra every Indian girl stands by. Why? Because we are still afraid of monsters. Monsters who can harm us, both physically and emotionally. Monsters who can violate us, mute us and alter us. We fear the monsters on the road, at the market, in dark alleyways, schools, colleges and sometimes in our homes. Monsters have many faces. They live amongst us. They are our friends, colleagues and sometimes even related to us both by blood and by marriage.

Most part of our adult lives is spent worrying, being afraid and protecting ourselves. Have you ever wondered where women would be now if we had no monsters to worry about?

The worst kind of monsters are those that hide in plain sight. Talks like a good person, walks like a good person but violently abuses his partner. Gives to charity, cares for animals but molests small children. Is a loving father but treats his wife like property. Talks about women empowerment but wants his wife to serve him. Seems like a perfectly good person till he touches you inappropriately. We have all dealt with these monsters. We arm ourselves with pepper sprays and curfews to vanquish the demons. We try to stop them from harming us but never from existing at all.

Two most important things in India is religion and family. Why not spread the message of equality through them? Why not ask people to not turn into monsters? If religious leaders ask their followers to treat women as their equals, would they not follow? If every parent treats their sons and daughters the same, would the son still grow up thinking he is superior to the opposite sex? Can’t we stop the centuries of social conditioning with positive thought and learning? We can. However we choose to prevent rather than cure. We cover, we run, we cry out but never let the monster seed die. We admonish, we limit ourselves and we continue a struggle that is nothing more than a vicious cycle.

Stop. Think. Execute. And let it not Repeat.

Death is an Asshole

I am a Feminist and I do not Hate Men

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Memories, the assholes

It is worrisome to see that one tiny photograph can impact nerves to no end. I mean from one end to another and then back. It is complete idiocy that runs through your neurons. I think our brain likes the fact that it can wreak such utter havoc through sight. And smell. And touch.

There is a ticking time bomb in each of us. Some of us can suppress it better than others. Those of us who know no better fall into the trap and push the red button time and again without learning from mistakes. It is a little bit like forgetting to switch on the mosquito repellant. You know what pain is when the errant mosquito relishes the taste of your blood. The next time I will be wise we think. Then the welts fade, the pain subsides and one fine day you are cocky and forgetful again.

Memories are like the bullies who wouldn't stop throwing chalk at you. Some just glance by you. Some you dust off. Then there are some that hit you in the eye and you are in blinding pain for quite a while.

What about good memories you say? Well, I think all memories hurt a little. It is made up entirely of the past. You will always yearn for a double check, a look back, a time machine or oblivion. Memories are just rude shocks you did not expect from the expensive iron.

I may be cynical or just depressed, but when I wake up tomorrow I will still feel the same. What we feel is the absolute truth for us at every moment. My truth just makes more sense to me than yours.

What You Need To Know About Clinically Depressed People

My love loses direction,

It often ponders and startles itself,

It often wonders what it is all about.

My love is lonely,

Seeking refuge in the corners of rooms,

And pillows long stained with wetness.

My love is conditional,

And then it goes ahead and forgives,

Lets go, holds hands,

And takes back the head on her bosom.

My love is silent and mournful,

Melancholy and slightly happy in repose.

My love is abstract,

Not knowing what to make of the world,

Or the colours within;

My love is blue.

My love is within, without,

And slowly flowing down the ravine,

While the vulture pecks lethargically at its prey

Wondering if it was worth it.

My love is lustful;

Craving flesh and mouths,

And bodies writhing on sheets.

My love is crowded

With emotions, handshakes, hugs and cuddles,

With tears and the little water boiling for tea.

My love is luxurious,

Ever forgetful with expenses,

There’s more debit than needs to be…

When everything is over,

My love is here.

Right where it was all along.  

She smells like sex,

Like freshly aroused senses.

She feels like pins and needles

And goose bumps on your neck.

Her eyes smoulder when she’s irate,

And she might use violence to resolve issues.

She’s lazy; all scatters and piles.

She will ignore you for a book,

Disown you for a comment.

She loves ferociously,

And hates passionately.

She is incorrigible, even obnoxious at times.

She’s far from perfect;

Stumbles and falls more than she stands,

She hates her nose and bullies her hair,

She laughs like a racoon and farts like a dog.

She smokes. Out drinks the alcoholics.

She fights. She believes. She goes on.

She looks you in the eyes,

And you don’t block her way. 

Another Women's Day And I Am Still Weary

Another women’s day round the corner. The internet is abuzz with brands campaigning, showing their love and devotion to the welfare of women. The blog sites are full of content that might or might not be useful for women or feminism. I mean I don’t know whether men really want to know how female gestures are better than her saying I love you. It’s all relative, but not quite I guess.

As always, the hashtag activism team is spread out over twitter, talking about #IndiasDaughter and the #BeefBan; both hashtags trending in the top five on twitter. While the beef ban discomforts me, making sure to let me know that more bans on personal choice is yet to come, the ban on the documentary by BBC boils my blood. The hypocrisy is astounding! The documentary supposedly maligns the Indian culture. Hence, our good government officials have banned it. The stupidity lies in the fact that if you ban it in India, it still goes out to the public everywhere else. Notice the irony.

A documentary by definition, records the truth. Nothing is falsified, nothing is imaginary. India has a growing rape culture and it is high time, the government accepts that instead of rallying against documentaries and justifying rape. 94 women are raped in India every day. More than 50% of the children in India are sexually abused. Our country is ranked 114 among the 137 countries in the Global Gender Gap Report. Wake up India, and smell the rape culture. It’s here. You cannot ignore it by closing your eyes.

The last time I was in Gokarna, I met this British woman who said “India is the rapiest country I’ve been to. I have never had more men trying to rape me and groping me out of nowhere.” I had no response because I knew she was right. This is what tourists are taking back from our country. Our men grope, lech and take pictures of women in bikinis without their consent. They treat women like objects and playthings. Banning a documentary isn’t going to change that.

And why the ban? What the rapist said about the victim in the Nirbhaya rape case is what half the country thinks. Does it offend you to see the truth on camera? Does it offend you to introspect? I have first-hand experience of what people think ‘gets women raped’. Educated people, people with PHDs and people with wealth and culture think women should not go out at night, that they should wear modest clothes, that they should not visit pubs and clubs. And a documentary offends you? Your hypocrisy offends me.

Also, no one seems to be talking about the title of the documentary, ‘India’s Daughters’. Women are citizens, individuals, not daughters or mothers or sisters. We need to stop defining a woman in possessive terms. The paradox being that even a documentary that defines a rape culture, uses a name that further negates our fight for equality.

None of the discourses on the internet that trend, help feminism. Most of the rape cases in cities and lesser urban areas don’t even find coverage in the national dailies. Indians are an accommodating race. We are accommodating a culture of rape, of male dominion, of fear without doing anything substantial about it. Oh wait, we are doing something. We are blaming the victims, we are posing philosophical questions and we are suggesting yoga as a counter measure for rape.

I am weary of all the inconsistencies and the sexism and misogyny hiding in plain sight in the virtual and real world, and I am just 25. What keeps me going are the wonderful women who are trying to fight it all. I am grateful for all the feminist authors, comedians, entrepreneurs, singers and everyday women who are fighting patriarchy one day at a time. This women’s day is for you. My fight gets stronger because of you. Thank you.  

My Nation Failed Me

I do not know how to be an Indian anymore. What do I stand for? What does India stand for? Are we the sheep being herded across policies and morals? Are we pigs being fed to be slaughtered? Are we the lions, caged and whipped? No. How could we be?

In the past week alone, I have read numerous news articles that have disheartened, angered and disappointed me. From mentally disabled women getting raped and abused to a society of the offended, from scams to hanging prisoners in silence to creating a Hindu Rashtra. Should I go on?

I write this piece with a sinking feeling in my stomach. I am going through a string of negative emotions not only as woman in India but as an Indian. When do we take our space back? When do we stand up for the so called democracy we call home? We are heading towards a path where freedom of speech, freedom to walk the road, freedom to claim freedom is at risk. But what do I know? I am just a voice in the disgruntled offended republic.

No matter how much we try, the discourse of rape in India is still the same. How long will we keep placing the blame on the women? I as an individual should have the right to wear anything I want without getting raped. I should be able to walk the streets without being x-rayed with visions. I should be able to do what I want, I should be able to live and not ‘allowed’ to. I should not be ‘allowed’ to do anything. It’s my right!

People need to understand the dynamics behind rape. It’s not just about sex. You can buy sex, no matter how illegal it is. Rape is about power and exertion of that power over women. Rape is about the fact that the same guy who is taught that women are shit, has to work under her in a more evolved city. It’s about teaching her who’s the boss. It’s ‘I have a penis and let me show you where it goes’.  But what do I know? I am a just a woman.

 The newest conflict in India is about religion. I am okay with everyone having their own faith, then again, why would you care what I am okay with? Exactly. Have your religion. Stop shoving it down people’s throats. Stop telling people which religion to follow. Why the hell do you care so much? Why the intense desire to get dominion over other races. It’s the exact thing you are afraid the other religion is trying to do. Irony is weeping in a corner while you fight your battles. Then again, what do I know? I am an atheist.

When will we learn to take a joke? When will we stop telling people what they can and cannot do. I am sorry governments, that’s not what we are spending our tax money on. The nation is full of people who need your attention and you are fixing all your attention on a freakin’ roast? Why does it offend you? The hypocrite in you shouts at the display of vulgarity while you shag off to Sunny Leone? And yes, women, you too are party to this I-am-offended charade too. Why is your sensibility hurt when I know what whatsapp messages you laugh at? Answer me this, if you do not find it funny, does it mean no one does? Or do you not think other people’s opinions matter? Again, Irony weeps and weeps. And again, what do I know? I like anti-jokes too.

I absolutely do not know how to be a woman in India. I do not know how to be an India. I do not know how to be a human. Teach me otherwise India. You are answerable to the people who fought to free you. Don’t let your own subjugate you, when you did not let the foreigners do it.

Wake the fuck up India!

No India, it does not end with comedy. The fight will go on, and so will the resistance. Today, they are against abusive language and lodging FIRs while the MP who called all other religious people HaramZadas is well on her way to enlighten people more. They are okay with MPs watching porn at Loksabha but are against consenting adults abuse each other in front of again ‘consenting’ adults. The key word is ‘consent’ and ‘choice’. Who gives you the right to take away someone else’s? why this narcissism? Why the superiority complex? And finally, how far will you go to curb creativity in this country.

It does not end with comedy. It will filter through to music, writing, graffiti, art and all other creative mediums. Creative people have always had a way to rebel against cultural norms and dogmas. Are we becoming so insecure in our skins as to confront every bit of rebellion?

India is the land where millions fought to overthrow the British rule? We don’t like being told what to do, whom to marry, what to wear and how to live. Are we okay to be told how to create? Are we as a nation okay with censorship? As a nation, we have 99 problems and comedy doesn’t make the cut.

A nation where rape is a culture, violence is on the rise, religious extremists are vandalizing churches, love jihad has a Wikipedia page and where women are still trying to keep up with all the sexism, you care about what a bunch of comedians are doing to push the envelope of comedy in India?

Dark ages, here we come. India is buying a one way ticket back to medieval ages. I refuse to have to filter my thoughts before the ink is etched on paper. I refuse to give up my right to create. I refuse to stand by and watch while my fellow Indians are harassed for no good reason. And those of you who think you are secure, think twice. It can and will be you next.

Wake the fuck up India!

Public Places Where People Have Sex in Kolkata

Kolkata is beautiful and all and we are all very fast and loose with our compliments and sarcasm, but there are some aspects of Kolkata (like many other cities) which we absolutely don't talk about. Let's talk about the fact that couples deranged with lust resort to make love (lets go with that) in public places. Parks, Shikaras, and behind bushes...they have been everywhere. If you see an umbrella and sometimes two held up like a tent at a park, don't peak, unless you are perverted like that. 

So, here's the list of public places where couples have sex or vigorously make out. 

Central Park

 If you happen to ride the giant wheel at Bidhan Nagar Mela near Central Park, you might catch bird's eye view porn when you look down. People under umbrellas, bushes and some even go to the lengths of putting up mosquito nets. Central Park is that place where your parents would never take you to play, and would never talk to you again if they knew you went to 'play'. They would never say why, but you know they know.

Elliot Park 

Aah the beauty of nature. Elliot park is a truly beautiful place. Thick trees, bushes, plants and flowers and the occasional liplocks. These are the sights you wanna look forward to there. But again, please don't peak.

Nalban 

Now this is the place where numerous  sex tapes have been made. It has a trifecta of mating spaces. You can use the shelter of bushes, use the inside of a boat, or rent a room and have at it. 

Cabins of hotels Yes. While you are having a polite conversation in the open area, someone might just be bumping uglies in the cabin next to you. Some cabins don't even have doors, just a curtain!

Mangal Pandey Park

 According to sources, this park in Barrackpore sees a lot of action too. 

Old Cinema Halls

 Yum! Popcorn and a blow job! That's what you might get to see, if you go to the old, decrepit cinema halls where Mon Mane Na and Meri Biwi Khooni Hai (I totally made that up) play at random. (Suggestion of other movie names: Tappakti Jawani, Main meri Katil hoon, Miss Call se bachha ho gaya, Pati fauj mein Biwi mauj mein.)

Cyber Cafes

 Yes. The sanctity of the internet is no more. They are having sex in the cabins! Oh the blasphemy! 

I can't help but feel there is no lightness in our being. Or to be precise in mine. I feel heavy, burdened. I feel like my lungs are weighing me down and my heart is weighing me down so that I can neither breathe nor feel. I am stooping day by day. I am in constant fear of being one with the ground. People will stomp on me and not give the flattened vestige of me a second look. '

At times I wonder whether that would be so bad. Would it really be that bad not being noticed? Not being looked at and judged? It is the dichotomy of two worlds within my mind. I wish I could make up mind for once. Do I wish I was normal? On most days. Right now, I just want to be devoid of feelings. Devoid of thoughts. I want to be free. I want to be and not be in the same moment. I want to just float in the nothingness that takes me everywhere and nowhere. How lovely it would be to transcend all the normalcy and the farce of reality. 

The promise…

It had stopped raining a while ago. She looked at the tear-stained glass door of the coffee shop where they had a long standing meeting.

He was standing at the mouth of an alleyway, watching her nervously sip her coffee and look at the door with every sound of a customer coming in. It had been a year since they said they would meet at the coffee shop when they were finally free from their burdens.

She no longer wore the customary vermillion or her wedding bangles.

He walked home silently, with drooping shoulders, moist eyes and a box of diapers in his bag.

Winter

The will droops and withers

In slow motion

Breaking silently with loud cracks

Echoing through neurons and firing up

All the ice settled through winter

It is still winter

Can you tell?


The eyes drink in the confusion

Methodically with no purpose

Zigzagging through hmms and erms

Stepping on frozen toes

And blackened fingers

Shivering beneath the glazed pupils


The hands, they don’t move

Stricken in fury

Broken in heavy emotions

Bursting at the seams

The fists form

Digging nails into ashen palms.

Why I am an atheist

I was born a Hindu in a moderately religious family. Well, my father is a communist, but he never actively told us not to follow religion. He did mock all the so called Sadhus and Saints though. Anyway, I was taught to pray, to believe in God. I did. I prayed, I performed religious rituals, I fasted and I very obediently did not displease God lest he smite me.

I went to a missionary school, where I learnt hymns and grew close to Jesus. I started going to churches, I made a Muslim friend, so I went to mosques too. I grew up around religion. I respected religion. I believed in God.

I prayed for me, my family, all the people close to me. I made it to my teens with the belief that praying helps. I met awful people along the way, had my teen naive heart broken, was betrayed by close friends, read about rapes and murders on paper and still prayed. I prayed for goodness. I prayed for relief. I prayed for sanity.

Along the way to adulthood, I met new people, I was privy to new ideas, I questioned everything. I questioned rituals, religion, rationales and motivation. I started forming my own opinions instead of conforming to my family's. At 21, I gave my belief. I started a new life away from home, at University, studying literature and cultural studies, debating social norms and effects of religion on people.

It's funny that theism is taken for granted, but atheism offends people. It does not become a way of life. My family still thinks it's a phase. It's as if I am flirting with atheism and will come to my senses eventually. I have just lost the way. Often I was and still am asked, "Who taught you atheism?" I laugh every time. I am annoyed that they think I do not have an individual opinion. I ask you, who taught you theism? Would you still believe in god if no one taught you to? If a person was bred and brought up in an environment without religion, would he/she still pray? Would the person believe in an entity larger than the universe, the creator?

I started not believing, when I started believing in something more than my faith. I started believing in myself. I stopped relying on prayers and relied on actions. My mother told me, "Don't say God does not exist. God will punish you for it." The irony in that sentence still baffles me. It's hilarious that people threaten us with hell and the wrath of god. We don't care!

Living in India, right now, is the superstitious hell for us Atheists. We seem to have been pushed aside even in politics due to our lack of religion or faith in a creator. The politics of India as it is now is more than just the welfare of people. It is religion. It used to be a battle of ideologies. Now it is a battle of intolerance and ignorance. It is also a battle armed with myths and religious scriptures that are so misconstrued that it is almost believable.

I am not taking pot shots at just one religion. I am not selling atheism to anyone. I am just voicing my opinion against the organised corruption in the higher ranks of all religious organisations. Yes. I say organisations. It seems that everyone is out to prove who the better God is and whose God loves them the most and it is always at the cost of bringing some other religion down.

It does not matter when you practice your own faith in your home not bothering or hurting other people and their sentiments. It is when you bring religion into the open, shoving it into people's faces and up their noses, disrupting lives and livelihood that it becomes an issue.

Recently an NGO in Delhi could not help the  Christian parents of a terminally ill girl monetarily. The trustee of the organisation later said, "Agar aap hindu hote toh phir bhi kuchh ho sakta tha" (We could have still done something if you were hindu) Since when does religion matter more than the life of a 21 year old who is lying paralysed on a bed?

With all the Ghar Wapsi campaigns by the Hindus, there is also a Muslim leader saying, all children are born Muslims and then converted to other religions. I continue to see the urge to make people conform to the religion one person or a group of people think is superior. There is always someone trying to convert someone else. What happened to free will? What happened to respecting other people's choices and beliefs?

I object to your dehumanisation of people due to their religion. I object to your crassness in the celebration of your religion. I object to your inhumanity. I object to your racism, sexism, elitism based just on your religion. I object to your society.

I am an atheist and happier for it. 

The Graveyard Book - A review.

I just finished reading The Graveyard Book, Yes. Yes. I know I should have gotten my hands on a Neil Gaiman book sooner. That man is awesome. But moving on from my inadequacies, I would just like to say that I simply loved the book, both from a reader and a critique's point of view.

First of all, let's talk about the imagery. It was amazing. The fantastical elements in the book blend in with reality just about perfectly. I loved the fact that it was not put in like a fairytale, where anything can happen. The book had just the right amount of reality mixed in with the dead, hounds of god and the Honor guard. The fact that a little boy walked to the cemetery and was adopted by ghosts was in itself so radical, that I was hooked from the word graveyard.

The suspense was intense. I was glued to the book in an extremely noisy bus where personal space is a myth. I was in that world, with Nobody Owens and Silas and the world of people and the dead. I loved the fact that I could not tell what was coming next. The book did not take any of the turns I thought it would. That, my friends, is what I love about books in the first place; the unknown. 

The characters in the book were so perfectly in sync. I could relate to some, and not to others. Human emotions and fantastical creations co-existed in perfect harmony. I also loved the fact that Gaiman wrote as easily about the child as the adult. With Bod growing, we also saw his emotions expanding and taking stock of life. The relation between a child and a role model was subtly implied and understood. There was satire in relationships and start truthfulness too. It was a journey. 

The most wonderful thing about the book was the name Nobody Owens. I applaud the fact that it did not change to an ordinary name at the end of the book. I am okay with Bod being Nobody Owens. I can relate to Bod. It really puts forth the idea that it's not what your name says about you but what you are that matters. 

The book also put forth the idea that everyone has something to teach, something to add to your life. The education Bod receives from the dead, some of them centuries old, all shape his life, no matter how outdated the information. 

If you haven't already read the book, I'd say please do. If you are anything like me, you will love and accept the graveyard family along with the living boy and the honor guard. 

Sometimes I think we only live because we can't die. Do we?

Ban

Ban dresses they show too much
Ban jeans they show too little
Ban burqas for eyes do talk
Ban eyes. How dare they look
Ban walking. We're getting somewhere
Ban transport. Bring them back one at a time.
Ban working late. It teases the night.
Ban working. Do we really need to?
Ban questions. You ask too much.
Ban reports. You said too much.
Ban excesses. We have too much.
Too much freedom. Too much influence. Too much reading. Too much soul.
Shut that mouth I said!
Ban talking. It brings up questions.
Ban societies. What good is learning things?

Ban entertainment. Just because.
Ban television. They put things in your mind.
Ban alcohol. Ban drugs. Ban escapes.
Ban sex. We come from Gods.

Ban dark alleyways. Ban abandoned buses. Ban the living room with the curious third cousin in it.  Ban the playground with the touchy neighbor. Ban crowds.
Ban hands.
Ban looks.
Ban elbows and knees and penises.
Ban breasts. Vaginas. Women.
Shove it all under the rug.
We will keep mum. We wont tell.
We wont point. We wont dwell.

Ban the darkness
Ban the light.
Ban excuses and ban the fight.

A thought

I was thinking that all our fight for choice and free will is ironic because our very existence is because of someone else's choice or lack there of. Some of us are planned babies, some are accidental and some a mistake. In any case our very being is the result if a choice and action we had no part in. Did I choose to park my ass on this land? No.

Thoughts?