I have 412 contacts on my phone, and not a single person I can call right now. I just wish I was somehere. And think something else, but it's not happening. It's turning out to be a Joni Mitchell day...How long can this go on?

Muzak

So…I haven’t been doing anything productive for quite some time now. It’s that time of the year again when the internet becomes my best buddy. Which is the case, um, all through the year.
I’ve heard such great stuff lately, and self just realized self has never blogged about music…
First I’ll set away all the I’m-going-to-kill-this-year-but-have-in-acuality-fucked-up-bigtime-records. I’ll be honest about my expectations with Tiesto’s new release (Just be) this year. There were none. But I couldn’t resist the temptation to listen to it only to bitch about it later when a friend dropped in the cd. It sucks. It’s repetitive and sometimes he’s really going too soft. Looks like the end of the legacy erm?
Bon Sinclar Sound of Freedom has too many people going orgasmic this summer. Somehow, this Sean Paul + Carrribean flavour in Sounds of Freedom single is not really my thing. Needless to say, all consoles from Goa to Bangalore are going to play this song to death and eventually, force many to love it. Like that cheesy Children of the Sky. But do I see myself dancing when ‘give a lil’ love’ is playing in the house? Hell yes.
And I truly love the cover art. So Joplin.






And now over to the Gunners. The 2 best albums so far this year – Sound of Silver and From here we go Sublime. I‘ve never really believed that techno is dead, and artists like Alex Willner prove me right. Everything about this album is perfecto. Every song is taking out a new sound. And it doesn’t veer towards the boring image ambient music is increasingly being accused of, it’ll really make your head spin.
I won’t say anything about Sounds of Silver. It’s hasn't got off the hook on my player since 4 days soo….


And Chromophobia is another superb album. Electronica is going mad!





I love Pocket Symphony. No matter what anyone says about Air, I’m always going to check out their releases and faithfully load it onto my machine. Too many people call it boring, and I find it so ridiculous to classify music like this because NOT everything can be played in a club for you to dance to, and with that dumb logic, I can’t deviate from half of the best music the world has to offer.

Someone put me on to Kings of Leon. I love the whole sound, weirdly; it reminds me of Frank Zappa. The whole brazen vocals, the crazy riffs. ‘Charmer’ is my new drunk song!





And the most bizarrely beautiful female of all times has finally shut them up after the lull. You say it Bjork!



Yet to hear Cassadaga and Neon Bible. They comprise my future week agenda.





I love the heat! It truly gives me wonderful excuses to hibernate.

Just saw another one of those abominable fairness cream ads on tv. HELL. It had this girl who wants to make her theatre group work but has no audience. So she puts the solution-of-all-measly-female-problems(FAIR & LOVELY) and becomes Ayesha Takia pretty... becomes an actress. and lo behold! everyone wants to see heroine material doing her drama thingy now.
What the fuck? Who believes this shiite anyways? So if someone is not an actress and is then consequently not pretty, What is she supposed to do? Go die? And is this what the measure of success really is? To strut your crotch out to the world and do the shimmy?
I remember once they had another one of these freak-show ads where this young girl is getting married to a man who looks about 60, because she's dark skinned. and then she gets fair and hooks up with some 24 yr old computer engineer.Wowie.
I wanna know how many of these retards who churn out this crap in the name of advertising are actually fair skinned themselves? Or their daughters even?
If they are all fair, then there's no problem because then they are obviously superior human beings so the matters's closed.
But if they are dark, do they recognize their immense dickhead potential? And do they feel the burden of the trauma they make millions of such gullible consumers go through.. Who truly believe that putting some dumb lotion on your face will turn your life around.

Why is it that a man can choose not to shave,live like a slob, have a house with a refrigerator...beer..and music, and still be cool?
And a woman can be smart, witty, well read, and a dozen other things, and still have all these godforsaken typecasts falling on her from all directions?

My dear friend M has to hear constant jabs from her ugly stupid and dumb boyfriend N... only because she's put on 2 kilos.. so she, inspite of looking as great as she always does, is now having paranoia attacks over stepping out in public in a pair of shorts.
Why is everyone so busy with fucking up each other's peace of mind? All these dumb men who go to UASSS to study, come back and tell me their exploits and their own version of life-and-times-of-a-west-coast-hustler..Bah!
But these morons will still get married to a fair,tall, beautiful,homely,cultured,can cook girl ..their mamas will choose for them.
They are too mentally stunted to be capable of accepting and fathoming women of any other category. And even though they can't count the number of continents or remember dating any good looking girl in school... they still want some model-type in bed.
And society is pandering to their right to feel justified over thinking such drivel? By making women some sort of clone tube where you keep on feeding some new data that she just sooo badly needs to aquire into her personality to be palatable to men so that they can be induced to fuck her..and marry her, for those good girls who don't dream of sex.
Now every Indian girl after 21 realizes that you don't need to do jackshit to get a man in this country. But noo. We are not going to limit your role to just that missy.
You need to be beautiful because there is no other way. And after we define beautiful, if you try to exceed your defintions of that.. we'll just term you a slut if you're unavailable.

Whatever. .Like I give a damn. Last I heard someone filed a PIL against these parasites.Wonder what happened to that.

*****

Yesterday I finally went for City of Djiins. Well, I didn't expect anything great from the play considering the book was such a caricatured outlay of Delhi's history...I'm pleasantly surprised. The production was beautiful. It feels really good to see the theatre scene in Delhi coming up so well that it's finanancially viable to put up something this grand.
The only part when I felt sad about watching it in Delhi was when most people sitting around me started smirking uncomfortably when the eunuch depiction came up.
I've never been able to comprehend the ostracization of eunuchs. Their lives do not get documented and no one really gives two hoots about them here. And I see this scenario only in India, as most of the South Asian countries have transgenders and asexuals dictating their laws regarding property,marriages and employment. And having legalised sex change operations.

Maybe because as of now, we can't even admit that Indians do actually fuck. So to reach the point to enable open-mindedness about people who have sexual aberrations will surely take a long time.

****

Bjork's coming out with Volta on May 8. Dum dee dum dum.

India

An 8 year old girl has been watering our garden since the last 3 years. Her mother irons clothes near our building and doesn’t want to send her to school. The girl’s name is Geeta. She runs around all day doing menial work wearing clothes I wore once. She plays with my toys and can buy chocolates for herself. She always gets bright eyed whenever she sees me coming from the airport. And I see those eyes and the pony tail once more when I’m leaving. Just four times a year.

But her family can’t afford anything for her. No food, no education, no life. She’ll never wear Aldo shoes and discover the wonders of mascara. She’ll never contemplate on the emotional security a man can give you. Sex without condoms for her will never be risqué. She’ll never drink cognac. She’ll never travel out of the country to see the world.

These things have become so important to me that I find lives without them so… unimaginably dull. And bereft of any kind of pleasure?

But there are millions who go and fetch water from a public tanker 3 km from their tin huts every morning, precisely at the time I get up and think of waffles. And there are countless who are suffering malnutrition worse than Africa in my country, at the time I refuse to eat food made at home which is enough for 4 simply because I want to eat dumplings. There are too many instances that make me feel like a prize capitalist slave who doesn’t have two minutes of compassion time in their life other than to buy a flower off a traffic signal.

I never cared about these things 2 years ago. There was too much to think about. Also, modern times have given people like me the luxury to entertain depression and just think about our past until we get over it. But someone is not thinking even after 4 pregnancies and 3 miscarriages simply because the man refuses to stop.

I’ve been reading a lot of stuff on the blogosphere for quite some time now. There’s been so much that feel like déjà vu. And much reminds you of thoughts you once indulged in and then put them away. But recently I’ve read some bloggers declaring their preference for continuance of British rule in India. And how the country is basically one big shit-hole and nothing can be done to change that.

Such juvenile crap burns me up so much that I can’t even write about it. I guess currently, it’s much in vogue to be pro-India after movies like Rang de Basanti and such making such an impression on the popular mind, for better or for worse. So I don’t really talk about this.

How did I suddenly get so patriotic? I can’t think of a better word, although it seems so darn serious, but patriotic it is. It’s there is every thought. Even when I heard about the Virginia shoot-out, all I though about was how terrible it would be to die abroad. I know how delighted I used to be if I came across a sardar in London. It really used to make my day.

And it seemed so surreal, because I never respected anything about my identity when I left. I can’t say that I was a victim to racism but I surely saw it happen and never did anything about it. Gradually, it occurred to me that my cultural identity is perhaps weak?

And it’s considered low-brow by most societies. It really wasn’t such a big deal to be an Indian. And I used to be so happy on the numerous occasions I was mistaken for some other nationality. Who wants to belong to that ‘brown’ country anyways…

I didn’t end up living that farce for too long. And felt this intense need to protect my country. The name, culture, past, freedom struggle. As I grew up to be more individualistic, it became a more defined part of me. And just as I won’t tolerate someone mocking my family, I would certainly fight for my nation.

And the day I came back to Delhi airport. Saw tube lights. Ugly tube lights all over the airport. Ugly airport. Rude taxi drivers. Beggars. All the stuff that’s become classic India to most movies.

But it didn’t disgust me anymore. It just felt mine. I didn’t care. There was enough I’d read by now much to understand why we were at that economic or development phase. And why it would take us more time. And how congenitally, so many people and their civilizations are dissimilar to us. And how thankfully, we will never become an America.

As long as I’ll have it, I’ll give something towards the future

And it pisses me off to see people like Anil Ambani and Amitabh Bachhan donating 1.5 crore to Tirupati temple…wtf…What do I marvel at? The sheer stupidity.. or the bigotry.. the decadent superstition…

And I see nothing wrong in enforcing compulsory National Anthem because it’ll take a lot of time for Indians to love their country as much as the Americans to sing it without being asked. There’s nothing wrong with banning a bikini having the national flag… because we are different. Just like no one wants to be us, why are we dying to ape others?

All this is sounding so maudlin to me… hmm, especially since I have never devoted much space for beliefs in my life. And even though after this I’ll head out for a cigarette and really forget about it…

But it’ll hit back at me from any street in India. Because it never fails to remind me that it's mine. And that I have to do something for it.

The great Indian Clan

Lately I’ve been seeing so much of Rahul Gandhi on the news. Future of Uttar Pradesh.Finally (phew!), rahul baba is here to solve all our worries and struggles with this state, as glowingly reported by Congress workers.
It’s difficult for me to exactly corroborate the vastness of my issues with what he represents. It’s pathetic that even after being so educated, the money and power will make a seemingly decent chokhra boy like him to express pride over the dirty clan politics of his family like a blithering idiot. The impassioned ‘speech of the moment’ which would have been cunningly devised by some IAS who would know UP caste frictions all too well to capture the right pulse, while Rahul baba perfects his Hindi in an air-conditioned van. Just like his mother who memorizes her Hindi written in English.

So Ayodhya wouldn’t have happened if the great Gandhis were involved? It never dawned on him to think how his mother could have intervened at that time if she really gave a flying rat’s ass. And not surprisingly, ‘madam’ has picked up Cabinet Ministers who were in power the time Ayodhya happened to comprise her government presently. And the great Congress regime is not helping the farmers, youth, or the middle class, so why would they really bother with a mosque at that time? Or maybe they would, just like the Government didn’t have the money to fund education till 14 years for all children, and now has the finances to support Urdu and regular education for Muslim children across Uttar Pradesh and the rest of the country.
This is because the Congress wants Indian Muslims to believe that they indeed are really poor and downtrodden and need to be spoon fed in whatever they plan to do. We’ll fund your primary and secondary education. And get you seats in colleges you wouldn’t imagine in your wildest dreams on the basis of marks such as yours. Then give you scholarships for the additional years that you would obviously take to pass out of such colleges. And then assure you great jobs in the corporate sectors, for which General category has to kill for… don’t worry, we are working on it. Azim has a problem with that right now, but it’ll surely be taken care of. And then if you wish to do the Hajj, we’ll fund that as well.

Brilliant.

The actual statistics for illiteracy and unemployment amongst Muslims would be out in some time hopefully, giving a picture truer than the one projected by the Sachar panel. I do not have issues with providing help and economic benefits, but just as you want to be convinced that the beggar in Colaba is not going to shoot up heroine with the money you give her and will indeed feed herself, (ok, bad example), it's necessary to understand the various channels such benefits pass through.
If the statistics are different, which they would be, considering these figures are 15 years old , then we can probably concentrate on poverty- based benefits instead of the illogical caste- based ones. If the country is trying to grapple with the passage of casteism for so long, is there any point in harnessing that ghost all over again to continuously remind people of their origin? But what is truly classic is Congress's peeve with administrating such a Census. Apparently they don't want to divide the country on caste lines wherein ordinary citizens are questioned on the basis of their caste and economic conditions related to that..against secularism , Gandhi ideals yada yada yada. Ok. Secular point taken. But expectedly, they would not view reservations from the same prism. That is for betterment.

So now that I have gone completely off the topic.. Hmm, Rahul Gandhi should probably sit at home and read some coffee table books on the rural heartland of his country that was never exposed to him in his student days abroad. But it’s really so hopeless. He’s most likely to get illiterate votes as it often happens in India when a Gandhi scion calls himself the ‘son of the soil.’ Just like Sonia Gandhi is the ‘bahu’ of each and every home of Bharatland. Gawd.

And I don’t even see the foolish idealism of Rajiv Gandhi in him, so maybe he’ll make less fatal mistakes that won’t atleast cost him his life.

So I talk to this asshole after 4 fucking years and he waits till 5 in the morning to profess his carnal desires for me. I feel like such a slut. Why is it that I let creeps like him get the better of me every bloody time?
I mean, really, what is it with men? Did he forget the time he cried over his dog's death in front of me for 4 straight days. Or when he felt insecure about his writing career and broke that whole i'm-the-man-with-everything-going-for-me-glorious story. And everything else. How we reached a point beyond mindless conversation. How I could do the flamenco in front of him and feel more beauty than what my art could give.

But no. It's really true I guess, that people forget everything that you say and all that you do for them. All that remains is being horny within the sheets.
After 4 fucking years...he cannot even be bothered with maintaining the pretence of having a cup of coffee first. Nooo....I'm the red-blooded Indian male who will eternally conform to my expected levels of female commodification.
Fuck you bastard. I hope someone hangs you by the thumbs till you die. And then I'l make freakin' lampshades out of your sex-starved skin.

Consistent bad luck

Whenever I experience some passage of time in my life, I get complacent about its whole course. Probably this is the point where it'll fit in nicely. Will reach somewhere stable. But leaving that ridiculously maudlin illusion, it never fails to burst on my face in pieces .. in its prime ugliness.
And that is why I'm still grappling with the venom flung at me by people I shared my mascara with once. Shocked by all that people seem to know about me. Numb that the dreaded thought was repeated once more, this time in front of more people who will chuckle at my analysis over coffee.

So I have a 'black' spirit. I do not leave people without first breaking them apart from others. And no relationship can stay intact if my presence happens to steer close to it: people leave each other for me ( even though it seems too bloody juvenile to state things like this, I just have to go on and bitch), And women start choosing each other. All because of me. And someone has lately discovered this and is stating it with much delight.

Even though it seems preposterous that ANYONE would bother to give me such importance and control over their lives, a part of it still fits a sound description of a 'witch' like character. And of course I've ideally ranted against such attempts before... I wonder if anyone knows of the nights I've spent holed up in my room with drawn curtains , making passing words spin around in my head.

The first time I ever heard this was from a man I was trying not to know too well. And of course it surprised me as it was my little secret. And now it is from a woman. For long I had convinced myself that groups break with my arrival because I end up exposing the farce and circles within them. But that conclusion sounds so self-involved that I've firmly rejected it by now.

One month has been spent predictably. Shaking imperceptibly when I heard it and now just going on with my work. All the time devising ways to cause her enough pain to understand my mind and the time that was. Why is there no dignity left after people exhaust each other's utility values? And then sleep dreamily envisioning many people apologizing to me , and then we all walk ahead towards something different.

I mean, hell, of course, I don't care about people and all that. But its a nice thought to get drunk over.
Obviously I'll get over all this just like things in the past. And then wait for another blast some other day.

Even though I've never felt the dire need to surround myself with voices, the dynamics amongst them really gets me thinking.

I see so many trying to be someone they are not. And too many doing such sick stuff. To their wives. Their daughters. Their 'best' friends. But we still exalt them to a better place. All in the name of what? culture...family.... Why is it that when you don't pretend, no one seems to understand you?
Maybe all personalities are already laid out in pretty boxes and there's no room for dissimilar ones. World is too busy with black and white. On the periphery.
And anyone eating alone in a restaurant is necessarily lonely. And anyone who thinks nothing of gender divide is necessarily a slut. And anyone who doesn't fit into our boxes is fucked up. Even the all-American Brietney Spears.
Maybe that is why I can be nothing else but 'black'.

..tis' the season to be merry eh?
Humph. I currently have no house and no Internet. all my stuff in suitcases .. so everyday self is running around like madwoman wondering which one has what. days are blissful. since i have no house, so i obviously cannot have Internet in this booming nation of ours. last night had awful nightmares of assorted landlords telling me to be a good girl or else i'l forever be homeless. Whatever that COULD mean.
It was crappy x mas.so drunk that told my friend 1 all that friend 2 bitched about her. so was lying on bed crying for sleep while 2 screaming girls implored for the truth. cannot find my red shoes and so am extremely nervous since they cost me as good shoes usually do, pretty sure someone has stolen them. last night counted 7 items of clothing missing. 2 of them quite precious so couldn't sleep for 2 hours.
homeless vagabonds like me have no option but to end up in goa. Um. of course i hate it during this time of the year so have firmly resolved to refrain from a ghastly holiday. but lots of friends are going and lately, every night ends with me stoned, having 3 people around me talking about the ten types of fun we'll have. so i give in and go to sleep. and next morning is hell when self decides to stick to dumb resolve and go back on word.
Am trying to convince dumb friends that we'll all die if we go there. but its sad that Indians have such a think-headed mentality to bombs. reminds of this family I knew in london, who simpered in their house for a good two weeks after the trains burst. but my brave friends are born to be wild.
and other than that, i have thought of wonderful new resolves.

will get a new house where the landlord loves me nd can speak good English.

will eat breakfast. NOT chocolate doughnut with coke.

will bitch less and do more.

shall not buy any more clothes. And shoes. And bags.

shall manage my money better.

will work out. regularly.

will buy more books.

Um. I cannot guffaw any longer so self shall stop.

Spoke to school friend today and am going to meet her tomorrow at my usual watering hole. We sighed and rallied on totally pointless details to each other .. and laughed ourselves quite silly. It's weird that most of the blasphemous 'incidents' I was involved seem in quite hazy to me .. lately, I've been experiencing this with loads of my friends. Tallbestfriend in Lancaster was in town in September and we started talking about my weird mood swings. He mentioned how when he saw he crying for first time in 4 years I told him to get out of my house in a crazy banshee-like manner. Now I would NEVER do that to a friend, and vehemently disagreed to such crap. So poor tallbestfriend was as it is so shook up by having to remember that incident, and then got pretty depressed that I didn't even remember that it happened in the first place. Hmm. My tact needs work most of the time. So anyways, recently me been having this nightmare that I'm sitting on an oak table surrounded by pretty italian light fixtures all around me... and I'm hunched up over the table while alphabets are coming out my head and ears ... in swirls .. and getting collected in bowls which lots of faceless people dressed in red clothing are drinking ...
It terrorizes me to think that one day I won't remember all that I've read and all that I went through ... like all of it escaping in swirls .. you're just like the other person .. only dumber .
My dad jokes about how our family doesn't pass around cancer or diabetes to each other, we just get plain loony. everyone as it is expects me to get schizophrenic pretty soon as my grandmom is going to die from it in no time now.
Its disturbing to meet her as she can't recall how to sit. So she lies around all day and screams at anyone whenever pieces in her head tell her that conversation's been lacking for quite some time now .. God, after trying to kill myself so many times, it'l be pretty ridiculous for me to get under something like that instead, so I'm just going to have a nice and peaceful suicide somewhere after 35..or sooner of course.

Anyways, so I'm meeting friend and am very excited about it. I dunno why I'm excited because I never liked school much. I don't even like college and I don't like anything else. But you've got to hang on to some useless details otherwise I'l pretty much lose it.
An ex once ended a heated fight by calling me a mongrel... someone who has no identity .. belongs no place. I always considered that guy naive so was quite shocked that he was making so much sense. Having lived in 4 cities so far and through 5 schools, it's not surprising that there's no nostalgia in my life. Delhi school was more about losing my brit accent in 2 weeks flat because people were labelling me a wannabe. I guess it never dawned on them that not everybody fakes it and there's nothing cool about having a different language anyways.
And then there were hardly any girls. I've always missed the whole thing of girl bonding you know .. the shopping, the make up yada yada yada. But I've always felt that it takes longer to have a decent girlfriend. And getting a guy to hang out with you is pretty easy, because everything starts and ends with sex. So whatever women I have in my life, they are important. And I talk to them over their idea of me once every 4 months and everyone is quite happy.

Fogey love

They both talk simultaneously because she can’t hear too well. So I’m sitting in between them, with concurrent sermons on how it’s high time I got married, and how he’s going to vote for Modi as PM. He sheepishly apologizes mid-way on behalf of his wife, explains how she hates the hearing-aid. They have a phone call from their grandkids just then and he runs towards the phone. Talks for five minutes, recounting his entire week, and then pulls her towards the phone. Her wired face lights up as he recounts the conversation word by word to her, deciphers her mumbled reaction and then talks on the other end.
After the call is done with, both of us are fiercely fighting over who will eventually make tea. Now he’s too proud. Help is ridiculous as long as he can walk. Off he goes, and his wife starts fussing over me. Relays on about her entire day, and how they sleep after 11 because she likes to watch Star Plus. How she wanted to call her grandkids earlier but he didn’t let her, as they ought to call first. How it really hurts to walk these days but too many maids are turning murderers. Smiles as she remembers her grandson forcing her to the store to buy the hearing-aid. He gets very worried, as he can’t hear me talk. Don’t you ever manage to eat? How will you ever have kids?
And then she falls asleep as she talks. He remarks on how unfair it is that she’s being forced to work in old age. How he manages to do his bit and actually cooks better than her. He trails off as his hands move slowly over her forehead. He excuses himself to cover her with a blanket. And then he makes himself comfortable to talk politics.
He says he loves me because I’m ambitious. And because law and its power fascinates him. He talks and he talks. And I listen, because he makes a lot of sense. Until…
So when are you going to get married? You know all this law shaw is fine but you’ve got to have someone around when you’re ugly and old? Um.

It happened when I left home for work. Watching Delhi get all busy and worked up for yet another back-breaking day ... as usual, I haven't slept enough and am cussing aloud at anything that moves. I've always felt so out of sync because I don't like coffee. It’s so easy for others... not enough sleep, grab a cuppa and then you're all set. But I guess I do have my cigarettes.. So maybe not losing out on much.. And then I see her. She was standing on my left probably looking out for an auto-rickshaw. She’s talking to her friends and laughing. I stare intently for two minutes and then force my eyes away. Thinking now is not the time. I’m late for work and have a feeling the boss is not going to be amused by my delusion theory. But I can't stop. I look at her ... and notice every move. Few minutes with that image and I’ve already figured her out. And figured out how much I hate her at this moment. Why is she smiling so much? Why the fuck is she so fucking chipper? Can’t she just go ... find her way and stop bothering me. Stop forcing me to look when I got other things to do. Am trying so hard. But it's not happening. And now I can't breathe. The hands start shaking and I stop the car... right in front of her. Am crying out aloud.. imploring her to leave. So delirious with rage now... what if I kill her over? That would too easy no... let's rape her. Out in the fucking open. Stop that glistening laugh once and for all. Let’s grind her on the floor ... let the gravel surge against her skin so hard that her body is incapable of putting the pain together. Let’s tie her hands and make the strings dig in.. leaving marks lasting for exactly 2 weeks. Let’s punch and press against her breasts so hard that she wears a t-shirt with nothing for 2 months because any other clothing hurts. Let’s dig into her vagina so hard and so much that it makes her bleed all over the place. All that you see is red. All the screaming. Let’s freeze everything around the both of us so that no one can feel the rape even though it's right here. Even though she's a virgin.
Oh god. I’m screaming so loud now ... can't believe I said that. Can’t believe I would want that. No. Got to get out of this place. Before I scare her. Before she gauges anyone could be thinking of her like that. Before anyone gets to know about this. I drive back home in a trance. Weeping myself hoarse through it all. Hating myself. Wishing there was someone else around so that I could at least pretend to hold it up. There’s home now and I barge open the door. My room. At last. Shut the door. Before something new enters your head. Before you get more sinister. But c'mon.. She should fuckin go through that right... why was she so fuckin happy. She obviously doesn't get life. She’s obviously not like you. She wasn't fuckin raped like you. She’s different. She’s simple. And that's why she deserves it. Remember when your dad used to shout at you to be normal? Who all did you blame then? You know .. If there was no normal, then you would be normal. There would be nothing amiss about you. And no one would blame.
Yes.. that's why I wish all of them rotted those 2 fuckin hours. When you forget ... and now after everything in the room is thrown around... I’m hunched on the tiled floor... it's very cold.. and strangely comforting.. now I’m puking blood. And I’m strangely happy. Because now it's close to over ... I’ll wake up and it'll be over. All of it will come out. And then I sleep on the tiles... because they're cold.. and hard ... just like before ...just like that day.

.......................
I’ve often had this dream. Too many times to actually remember. But for obvious reasons, never told anyone about it. What would people think? It’s not one of those logical ones ... and considering it was frequent, it had to be concealed. I always tormented myself over my choice of the victim. Am I really that warped inside? When I’m awake... I’m aware that this was not something that would give me peace. Then why something so fuckin disgusting? Why not him ... and why them..
I knew why ... all that I hated and was terrified of was encompassed in that dream. The girls in my teenage years. So carefree . Who never understood why I was so bitter. And why sex was never something I got coy about. Why breaking-virginity conversations always pissed me off. And why I couldn't giggle at anything and everything. Some twisted thought somewhere wanted them to know exactly why. And things at home didn't help much. The pressure of academics ... which was always considered more important than getting raped at 13. The pressure of being a certain way or else people would talk. The times during my counseling when I used to overhear my parents telling the man to get me fixed fast. That time I obviously hated them. But then at that time, I hated everyone. I deviated towards dumb men with no depth; it was much easier to hang out with them. Because they were always too chicken to make a move. And that situation worked out nicely for me.
I guess you grow up and a lot of things fall into perspective. Even though I never forgave my parents, I do understand why they did all that. It feels good to talk to my father for hours today without feeling claustrophobic. Now, thankfully, I don't wish for the whole world to be raped.
And growing up opens other ideas too. It took me years of studying law to know that 'technically', I wasn't really raped. And that pissed me off. What would a bunch of motherfuckers in their 50's know about the act at all? Why don't they get some rape victims and ask them to draft the bill? Maybe then we'll see how much of a difference there really is between penetration and no penetration. Does it really matter if you escaped it because you were too small? It’s not any less traumatic... and I wish someone would think of that....
No matter how much things change for me now, I acknowledge this weird fixation. Whatever creative process i try to formulate for myself in the future, this comes to mind first ... I used to think that there is no scope for catharsis left now ... but your mind surprises you all the time ... even in your sleep.
I recently read about some families in Punjab who have started the practice of the Draupadi system. After the families out there are done with killing female fetuses, now it dawns on them that they still need females for them to get pregnant and put the family forward. So a family buys a girl for each house ... and that 'commodity' is required to be a wife to her husband, his brothers, and even her father-in-law...
This story fascinated me so much .. morbidly so .. But I was too scared to go to the actual place ... too scared to be sucked into the system myself. But no one is learning. Nothing changed when I went through it, and nothing seems to be changing now.
At least today my reaction to sexual abuse is exactly what it deserves. It perhaps pushes me more to fight against it. My past is probably responsible for my zero tolerance for eve teasing on the streets. And that is what makes me have nightmares about infanticide.I just hope that we haven't become the sort of people who need to experience sexual abuse themselves in order to have voices emanating against it .....

Bell Jar

I think often on how much it would take to understand some people. To be around them and hold their hand through everything while you're losing your mind in secret. To understand all that they say without ever posing your own thoughts. Fighting for their rights until you go hoarse. Explaining...explaining...all that you could have made better. The empathy that was still wanting. The left-overs of your wishful suicide while you're busy mending someone up. And then...you're just in that rut forever...
Now you're built up in his mind, as the protector. As the one who'll take me out of the blaze because it's the usual. The one who'll be scalded because she's strong enough. Because by now she's ceased to exist for herself.
I'm so very tired now...with the voices in my head which are never let out..all the time I lost which could have been for me ... all that could have taken me out of this ... with too many people as strangers .. and watching your mistakes backwards till it blasts you in the face ...and nowhere to fuckin go ... and hide till you see nothing moving ... no one hungry ... and begging ... to cut out your piece to feed it to him...
Imagining no people.. no wanting eyes .. hands ... words ...
Maybe now there will be freedom ... to feed herself.

The illegitimate nation..

I remember watching the press video of the Lhasa Express sometime back....another industrial leap everyone seemed very proud of... milling faces..all smiling.. and all chinese. I remember my heart sinking and wishing for the camera to lay bare the tibetan face in this as well... but considering all those press releases were monitored by the chinese govt, not much chance of that....

I'm back to that thought again today after reading about the Tibetan activist, Tenzing tsundue being given an order of restraint on movement prior to the arrival of the Chinese President in town... this man is wholly responsible for making me view tibet as a 'nation' ... to be aware of its politics.. the Chinese propaganda... and what it's really like to be revolutionary against the biggest communist country in the world.
It gets you thinking on what it would really be like to be without a country? We all have these avant-garde ideas about democracy and public opinion and equal opportunity and are suitably incensed on any inkling of an infringement... but what if you have no one to fight against?
No government... no policing... up against a country the whole world is shit scared of ... living in a place where you're considered a foreigner after residing for more than 80 years.. and still not freaking out... still no suicide bombers... no violence... because amazingly the millions of tibetans scattered all over the world are still sane enough to listen to the Dalai Lama....

Lhasa ground reality

Nuns raped,illegal to have a buddha figurine or picture,the only way of income for tibetan girls is to become whores for chinese police or to escape to india,no job unless you learn chinese,no tibetan learning in any school in lhasa,immediate imprisonment for uttering the name of the lama,4000 chinese enter lhasa everyday through various means...which is a systematic chinese plan to eventually promulgate the area free of any tibetan influence, industrialisation which is unprecended and which the sensitive tibetan ecology can clearly not handle,police atrocities which make indian 'fake encounters' seem like a joke, no press release of these atrocities is allowed, anyone can be picked up from anywhere anytime on any plausible ground,mental torture where you're forced to curse tibet in order to show your allegiance to china,the trek to india through nepal takes several months and most die in between,most of the tibetan kids come to dharamsala as it's the only place where they're likely to be aware of their nationality in some way when they grow, most of them have their parents and families back in lhasa...mostly with no way of communication, china has already forced google earth to show tibet as a part of chinese territory,and if today anyone searches on lhasa politics on the internet.. there's a systematic cleaning-up happening in china itself before anything can appear on your screens....

Out of sight..out of mind.. it's that simple and it's working.
India will of course do nothing because we have to save our ass first. But what pisses me off is that when the Indian Government was responsible for staving off the fate of the Tibetans in the Tashkent Agreement without consulting anyone... then why the hell are they being chicken now and playing out this drone of Sino-Indian friendship...how can they not get involved now after they were a party in fucking up the tibetans in the first place?
The chinese ambassador has already claimed arunachal as a part of their territory in a recent interview, which is not a new development.. it's obvious that in the upcoming short visit , no one is going to discuss this sensitive issue. But if the chinese stand is so abundantly clear, what the hell is the NDA going to do?
Give it off? Because duh, the rest of 'shining india' doesn't give two hoots about the north east anyways.. how much will it really take for someone to be that scared of china to actually fight back?
Fight for the illegitimate people... of a make-believe politica in 2006.

Sarangi

Why is it that I go for a seemingly mindless let's-go-to-dilli-haat-because-it's-winter-evening-and-you're-back-in-town-as-well sojourn with family and it ends up being such a disaster? After I completed our ritual with me pretending to get lost once we reach there as my father starts discussing the finer points of 'authentic Bihari tussar bedsheets' with the craftsmen... and off me and my brother, with him royally bored, while I buy junk and bargain gleefully....and I had to see him...
Now I see this man everytime I go to Dilli Haat ... white dhoti and kurta... about 70.. sitting alone... and playing the Sarangi. And everytime I see him... the tears.. and I curse aloud at being such a wuss and dutifully go ahead and buy 5 sarangis off him. Whenever I look at his weather-beaten old and wiry Rajasthani face.... I start relaying out his life in my mind and the reasons that brought him to this city to sell musical toys to people.... and I get depressed.

Why would a man from a village who looks like any other farmer come to Delhi anyway? Maybe his sons are dead, no wife as well maybe... or his land got taken up by someone... maybe he had too much debt.. maybe anything.
Or maybe he's one of the hundreds of craftsmen who come to this mela from their villages to see the 'big city' .... and then go back to tell their families about it. Maybe after we all go to our big homes in our big cars... he watches the people in the mela draw up their shops... and then sleeps in the bitter cold on the ground. Maybe he has no place to go so he stays around in the Haat. Maybe he doesn't even smoke to kill the chill because he can't afford it. Maybe on usual days, he doesn't sell anything because no one wants to buy the dumb things he sells except really dumb firangs. Maybe during the day, he watches television in chai shops from where he picks up the Bollywood tunes to play in the evenings. Maybe he really doesn't give a fuck about the people around him and just likes to play alone. Maybe he just does some ganja and is quite happy.
When I buy it off him... maybe he thinks I'm an idiot or else why would I buy 5? Or he thinks nice girl... so white. Or he thinks.. bad big city girl with no culture, hell why doesn't she cover her face?. Hmmmm.

I don't know which one really applies to him and I would really want to know. And I think incessantly. I think about how he has the power to make me start crying in a public friggin mela. Or to think about a stranger so much. Is it because he's poor? Or because he's old and looks like my grandfather? Or because I really wonder why nobody else would stare at him and just sit around him when they get there.. because what exactly is more beautiful than an old man in white clothes ... a balmy winter evening ... and playing a Guru Dutt on the Sarangi?

Oh sister...

So anyways the dreaded call of late came again. my brother asking for those special favors. Aaaarrrrghhhhhh.
Why oh why do i do it? I haven't exactly grown up with him, never been close to him...our relationship could be strictly classified into 'legally consenting drinking adults who don't talk things of any depth'. but I do realize that a major reason I take all this rigmarole every bloody time is because a) there's a limit to which I can make excuses about ignoring a relative's incessant calls , and b) helping him through this sex life makes me feel like Mother Superior, and that is obviously because I'm patronizing of his juvenile quotient....

So everytime this dim-witted cousin's sex scene with his equally dim-wiited girlfriends gets screwed..he gives me a call..to negotiate...mediate..promises me the world and things close to it... and basically convince those dumb bitches to get laid with him again...
It all starts with his frantic call, usually on days I got nothing to do, which is quite often in this blasted city..so I foolishly agree...(mind thinking free drinks, free food, and mindless conversation...fluttering wildly) he starts off with the usual" arrey why would she do this?" " do you think I'm wrong in ANY way?" "I can't marry her now no, gotta set up my career and all that" and the most frequent...." gotta buy a mercedes in two years" .... har har har har
Career in question being whatever remained of it after his LLM from london and being scared shitless at the thought of the actual process of 'doing a job' ..blehhhh.... so obviously our darling spoilt brat from 'zeee industrial family like the reliance you know' decided to join one of daddy's numerous businesses, the one having no semblance to law whatsoever of course, him having realized after 4 years of pursuing it that he's not exactly cut out for it.....
And of course after that..usual delhi munda crap...clubbing..scoring girls...booking hotel rooms to fuck coz joint family scene back home...promising dumb punju girls( ok no offense, but its surprising HOW many of them are at the receiving end of such men)the world=marriage....and everyone living happily ever after till the girl clams up....

Enterrrrsssss the worldly cousin with history of fucked up relationships but can still furnish very logical -sounding love advice .... so I call her ...
Even though she's irritating
Even though she shortens my perfectly acceptable long bengali name to a puke-inducing abbreviation
Even though she sings and never talks....like hiiiiiiiiii...howwwww arrre youuuuu

Anyways, a woman's gotta do what a woman's gotta do. So here the ..lets call her stupidrichgirl starts talking about how she lovvvvvvves my brother...and detests his family because they are so 'downmarket'..and wouldn't it be cool if after marriage she me and cousin live together like one dysfunctional family? ( gagssss...) ...I add how thats not feasible...what with me and him being first cousins and all...
Then she begins to ramble on about the uncouthness of their character, and how gk is not like that, and if she gets stuck in a joint family scene how the fuck will she smoke..and asks me to tell bro to get a 8 fuckin carat platinum ring for their engagement( this after 2 months fucking!) ... and how she lovvvves the immediate family...and not the rest...and how he's gotta move out..and how she knows he can't live without her...but she still gotta test him no...so that he makes her meet folks and settle scene....
Hmmmmmmm.
NOW if she was a smart woman..I woulda told her what a motherfucker my brother is, even though he's my brother, and urge her to take my wise word for it and scoot!
but smart she's obviously not....so I start babbling about how he loves her and will do as she says and all and so will she please cut with the crap now and start screwing him like before?

Finally it all worked out. They are at The Grand again,fucking. Hmmm.
But it's sort of sad that I have a bastard for a brother, the sort of guy I would take great pleasure in humiliating in public and try to push his buttons...the kind of man I would plot to kill for his decadent and MCP idealogies...the kind of guy I would never visualize myself talking with...

What's sadder is that these women are so fuckin stupid. They don't see jackshit. Now stupidrichgirl is some 12th pass who didnt manage to do college coz she ran away with her then boyfriend and got married in a temple! husband called parents and showed thhaaaaa truuuuuueee collllorsss..if you want to save your reputation and have her safely married, then give me this and this much money to finance this and this business....
Very filmy but true.
Now stupidrichgirl has been fucked up ever since. She knws her mistake all too well...what with her folks making a big deal of trying to hide the previous marriage from all and sundry... and she's now clingy and desperate at 26 having no job no life no ambition other than to get married.
And its sad that she's doing it again. I feel like kicking myself in the gut when my assholecousin instructs me exactly how to lie to her..regarding marriage and all so that he can manage another 2 months of sex...and he shrugs off when I naively ask him if he'll really marry her ..." Yaaaa right, she's good for girlfriend no? Not wifey type. too modern. What with past history and all"

Yes of course. Fuck. Why the FUCK is delhi like THIS? Men talking about how much money with whom and calling non-virgins second-rate..its fucking pissing off.

Bastard

Why is jethmalani doing this? And its fucking incredible that the morons who call themselves journalists are now debating the finer points of the 'unheard of' theory' of what really happened that night. Well just this afternoon with having nothing to do as usual, I let it dawn on my mom with suitable analysis exactly what I think is now going to come out of this jessica case...
My earth-shattering theory is that some poor sikh guy who needs money for his family so much that he doesn't mind taking capital punishment, or if lucky, life imprisonment is going to resurface in just some time from now...some far-reaching connections are going to be fabricated( like how he's actually tony blair's son and that's why the indian police didn't even dare to include his name in the investigation report, and hence in a brilliant satanic moment decided to opt for a softer target...YAAAAA... an MLA's son from chandigarh...!) and then of course jethmalani being the bastard that he is will tear apart bina ramani's not-any-help-as-it-is witness account and leave the prosecution with nobody else to defend for their case....
The two gun theory has already been shouted across rooftops by him and the investigating cops that everyone now is looking around for the other gun..and since manu had one gun with him...works for him very well...

And of COURSE... she was not a bhartiya nari...serving alcohol...and now developments-i-had-been-waiting-forever-for came to light that she committed the morbid sin of attacking the sikh gentlemen's virility....
I mean , yeah, she shouldn't get killed for it and all that, but considering bad character and all that..she deserves it no?

Actually, I'm really embarrassed to say that jessica's case has bored me to death by now...as pretentious as that sounds to me, but somehow jethmalani impresses me even more...why would he commit this suicide?
god knows he doesn't need the money.. his family apparently doesn't support him in this 'streak of independence' against public opinion...so little thing in my head roots for the lets-die-with-a-bang-theory
that motherfucker has grown so big in his little bubble that he thinks he can turn out the biggest case in indian history and get a judgment that he chooses to furnishe for his client...
and of course he's going to do it.
because he's the biggest lawyer in india. because he can do any fuckin thing. because he's big enough for even lets-fight-for-feminism-and-kick-serious-ass -me to shut up when he's looking down my breasts. and say 'sir' after he's done staring and walk out of the chambers. smoke a cigarette and then justify the diversion of my principles by equating it to the money i'll earn later by this man's name....
See the bright side...atleast I wasn't shot.

The veiled woman

I feel hot.

I cannot see the person in front of me very clearly.

I have to work in the fields,on the road, in buildings... wearing metres of cloth around my face and body.

My man expects me to wear it. And my clergy. And in an oddly fascinating way, I have started viewing it as an instrument of asserting my 'personality'

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to feel the light of the streets on my face.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to wear clothes like that girl on the street. But it would be too shameful yes.

Many a times people cannot hear what I say very clearly.

Sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to show off my make-up. Which now exists beneath my veil.

There are lots of inconveniences. But it is my religion. And it's only right to wear it.



Now this could really be anyone. In the wake of the situation right now, the Muslim woman comes to the picture. I come from Rajasthan and can invoke this picture to encompass thousands of women of the sands who have in most probability shown their faces to even their husbands only during sex. Leave out anyone else of course. Except other women because it's believed that no one is a lesbian out there. Hmmm

But no, even if that argument exists...it's still the Muslim woman. There's no point contesting her discomfort because every woman and some men know the answer to that one. They've taken it in their stride since so long now that the veil has today become a symbol of asserting their Islamic identity. I just read somewhere that Muslim men in the US take it as a symbol of pride if their wife wears the Hijab. It worries me to see such behaviour to be slotted in an attempt of 'assertion'. And that too something as sacrosanct as 'identity'. Do these men even gauge the ethos of having an identity? Stripping their wives of 'their' identity and making them believe in this bizarrely new concept of being another form of a 'trophy'!

Of course everyone has the right to dress the way they want to. Especially women. Because their right to dress is as it is discussed on a global level by men and then thrust upon them. I know that all village-women I know in Udaipur would get close to killing themselves if they're forced to dispel the Ghoonghat. But it's quite wrong to start viewing that reaction as their acceptance of the logic behind wearing that piece of cloth. It's just the time. The amount of years they have worn it...their illiteracy..because they have not grown up watching women without it...and obviously, their men ...all the fathers and brothers and husbands who have reinforced their preference to adorn their women with it. Again and again and again. And the same is with the Muslims. Of course there was a backlash against Jack Straw. He's afterall denying them their identity.

One more time.

All I'm saying is that it's time to stop now. By now all of us know that the Quran does not require women to wear it. By now all of us know that modesty does not necessarily require covering your entire face. We know all that. Then why do we let these women believe that's its somehow 'shameful' not to wear it.
And to stop that...we need the men. To drop their gazes. To stop controlling lives of the other half of the world population. To stop justifying rape because of her clothes. To just STOP IT.

In fact if the men in history and in the present could be less horny..none of this would have ever happened.
Just because it was easier. And just because no one stopped them.

I'm in no instance a male-basher. But I just feel incredibly worried at the state of things sometimes. We have been lucky to educate a certain percentage of women in these times...and a certain percentage from that have managed to be smart as well....there are a few good men...

And all this needs to contribute on doing away with the veil. Because it was never needed and now is the time to understand as well as realize that. The right to the way to dress can change your psyche in more ways than one. Just like Hindu women before used to think nothing amiss from dutifully jumping into a burning fire over their husband's corpse...and thought that was a matter of their 'right'...and spousal 'identity'..

This is a Sati of a different kind.

And there's no Ram Mohan in sight.

Why them?

Why is Sheila Dixit banning rickshaws? It's beyond me..What could be the warped up Congress logic behind stripping off 1 million honest labourers who wouldn't qualify as agricultural loanees as per Govt diktat,of their only source of livelihood? I heard about the continuing ban in Chandni Chowk and was surprised. Especially at the ludicrous reasoning of them being the harbinger of traffic jams. Then maybe shoppers and shop-keepers being allowed to park their cars in those narrow bylanes is somehow allright.
Don't they realize the lack of better alternatives? These men are the sole source of short -timed traveling within residential colonies and also near hospitals,schools... These places will then obviously have people resorting to their cars or autos , which however bizarre it may seem to me, is preferable to the Delhi Govt.
Where are they going to go? Commit suicide or become a problem of another sort?
And they complain as to why crime is rising in the city.

Just that...

She heard the music blaring over the phone. His strangely unfamilial voice pervaded through..''yeah..you called? I just entered a night club..it's crazy in here man, everything looks shot out of nowhere.'' She forcibly smiled over the telephone and then reminded herself of the uselessness of her action....he can't see her.

They were silent on the phone for a long time, hearing the resonating rap song between them. He was too hallucinatory to talk sense..and she did not know him anymore.
She silently prayed '' please don't lose out on who you are..it doesn't make sense if it doesn't leave you behind.'' A little more silence.

''How long has it been'' she asked. ''Well, tried it at 10 30...kinda time to wear out now don't you think?''.....yes, she thought, it's time but....'' you do remember the flight we have to catch up in 2 hours do you? My parents are going to be at the airport.'' ''oh yeah babe...just wake me up huh...or remind me in a bit..i remember it allright.''

hmm...nothing to talk about now. ''okay then...will wake you up. see ya'' and they hung up.
She cursed aloud within the darkened walls of her room. She knew it disconnects you...she knew he didn't need people for a while. But she's so stupid really, expecting him to fight the normal reactions. Is this the same man who cries jokingly whenever i have to hang up? Is he the same who would have ordinarily have the decency to step out of the night club to talk?

Well....it's so lonely in here...she hugged herself with her slender arms to induce some placid warmth....and she looked around the room. The alarm clock said 3. Well...so much work to do tomorrow and he probably wouldn't be there. And her parents...

She felt terribly sleepy...and tired..and wasted. but so much of work...and she's lonely. she finally sighed and fished through her wallet for the sheaf...carefully unfolding the creased package...she took out the white powder and started making lines......she methodically took a snort through the folded note and looked up. hmmm.it would start working in a bit...she could finally stay awake in front of her folks and last through the afternoon hopefully.
it's just that she's lonely you know...the last person didn't need her tonight...all because of her familial helpers.

Roman Candles.

Burning burning'bright'.....the flame will go on forever..from yellow to amber to orange to red...towards her eyes...towards his eyes..showed her the light perhaps..burnt bright..
And happy? Yes, happy.
Seems like it... musing, why so much intensity to inflame themselves like Huxley's 'flaming Roman candles'?
Somehow it expected something different after so much work..
Moments like needles...prick..prick....Remember a time when you wouldn't even understand what I'm saying?

She shuts the door.... so close to the flame..No...You have to see. Were you really expecting an ally? .... The laughter...

She wonders if the tremor was too noticeable today. Did they understand the silence? She wonders incessantly and then she starts weeping. Maybe I could be in there too.
Anyways , life is dragging on like a lie...some good and lots of bad. Snatches of peace and disaster... All for a song. Ha.
She wrenches her eyes and she's back in the car. In the boulevard.
Some hotel room... the candles , again,... And the white poster bed. But something else was happening.
So delusionary to reach there today. Even when he wasn't really there.
She found out that the number doesn't exist. And neither does his name.
And then she remembers all that she did .... with the flames.









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