Friday, March 27, 2015

Judge me!

I told them not to judge me by my weight
I told them not to judge me by my nerdy glasses
I told them not to judge me by my paunch
I told them not to judge me for the days I used to speak
With a stutter
I told them not to judge me for the way I speak in English
It has that small town tinge; I told them to not judge me for it.
I told them not to judge me by my double chin
I told them not to judge me by my huge shoulders
That’s why I don’t wear sleeveless, I told them not to buy sleeveless
And make me shameful.
I told them I love kaftans
Because that is what will hide my bodily incompleteness
I told them not to judge me for my black upper lip
It is a hormonal problem, do not judge me please.
I told them not to judge me for my way of extraversion
My always initiating the conversation
Don’t judge me for my wild laughter
Small breasts
Small feet
Long hands.
But while I told them all this
While I told them all this, I realised
I had judged myself already.
Sorry, to myself,
I have been your biggest critic.
But they say
Laugh at yourself
Before anyone else does.
But am I my own laughing stock?
Judge me, and tell me please.

Monday, March 16, 2015

Can't Sail On Two Boats.

My friend ( girl), made amazing points
about feminism
She was thorough with her theories
Had such alacrity in her voice
Made such strong remarks

She took the 'normal' compartment
in the metro
shouted at the guy
who was so tired
he had 'not seen'
where he had sat.
He had taken the seat
'reserved for women'
in the normal compartment.

She needed a pad
the same day
she could not say it
to my face
but she messaged
me instead.

She went for a date
and came back
Said that he did
not even pull the
chair for her
and did not
offer to pay.

'Chivalry is dead!'
she shouted.

Next day
she sat for a dharna
for equal pay.

Through this poem, I am showing some exceptional cases of hypocrisy in our country. Let's face it,  chauvinism is bad, and indeed horrendous, but our expectations of chivalry makes our protests null and void.  We need to fight for equality, yes, but let's first change our own opinions about our own sex. Decide what you want, do not take the middle path. This hypocrisy makes our really good arguments weak. Do not be superficial with your beliefs. Do not blame others. You are better than that.

I am not undermining the need of women. I am a feminist myself. But pseudo-feminism needs to go. We have to practice it ourselves. And practising it does not mean protesting, voicing out then and now, writing posts like these. But making little changes in our own lives. Mothers need to stop differentiating between son and daughter, stand against fathers who do so, voice out when they think they are being held in a suboordinate position. Yes, some women do not have the independence to do it, it is not easy. But open-mindedness, wherever possible, can be practised. One should make the other sex realise the female sex's importance. But before making them realise, realise it yourself.

Monday, March 2, 2015

In response to whoever says I am to blame

This, is a satire. The words, have a metaphorical meaning. They have to be understood to get the essence of the poem which might superficially seem too physically outright. The essential meaning I want to propagate is that people say clothes and partially showing 'those body parts you need to hide' leads to rape. and that this idea, is redundant and utterly idiotic. This idea, I counter it with another idea of going entirely naked, and even if that will be a freedom of expression, the society still will ostracize me and throw me away. A woman, does not have a choice. If I wear clothes, I am an aunty, If I don't wear proper clothes, I am a slut, asking for rape. I am asking: What will you call me, if I give up on clothes?

I have a vagina
and I cover it with an underpant
just like you have a dick
and you cover it too
we cover it because aesthetically
it is not pleasing to the eyes
if shown in public.
In addition to my vagina,
I have breasts to cover too.
If I had a choice, I would not wear a bra,
Or cover it,
but because even that is not aesthetically pleasing to the eyes
I cover it.
But that is me,
I cover it, because I want to.
I don't want to show it,
but that does not mean, I cannot.
What if I want to,
I will.
You can go around bare chested
and if I want to,
I will.
Right now I am not,
does not mean, I can't.

So they say if I wear clothes,
which partially show my breasts,
partially shape out my ass,
and that makes men look at me,
and want to grab them,
They make it the sole and the prime reason.

If partially showing arouses you,
I will not cover it fully
rather, I will not keep it partial at all.
I will go naked,
I will go nude on the streets
will that arouse you too?

I bet it won't.
It will scare you
It will instill fear in you
you will call me shameless
you will throw names at me
but inside you will be wondering
how did I do it.

If I am out late at night
and my clothes make you want to rape me
I have found the solution:
I will give up on the clothes.

Because if glimpse leads to rape
A full show will lead to
me being ostracized as a
or as a madwoman.
But at least,
you won't rape me.

Thursday, February 26, 2015

Not what you think

Blog post Number Ek Saw Pachaas. ( 150)

I realised it was my 150th blogpost after I wrote this confusing stuff.  But still, a post is a post. Read on, and join in my celebration alongwith mental confusion.

Faces. Phases. Two words, which make up our lives. We go through phases, and we wear so many masks that amid all the masquerade, we forget our individuals selves. Someone thinks you are happy when you smile, they see one side to you and they always forget, (you always forget too), that we aren't squares, but cubes.

Achievements come and go, but when they come, people see you, or at least, think that you are basking in its glory, loving each and every moment of it. Of course you do. But then, that just remains as one side of the cube. The other side(s), is never/rarely seen. But do you want that to be seen? Do you want, ever, for people to know what really goes in your head? When you get your big break, maybe at the same time, you are going through your biggest heartbreak. But you smile. You smile, you do your best and you show that you are doing very well. Momus, the Greek God of Satire, once mentioned the possibility of windows to our souls. Just imagine, if there was a window to your soul for everyone to peep into.

But, sometimes you really want people, or more than that, some people, to know what is your real condition. That feeling, when you feel like thrusting your real emotions on their faces. Okay, that sounded too graphic, and mean. I meant, sometimes you want some really select people to know what is really going on in your mind. Because these are those people who think everything is perfect with you, but in fact they are the very reasons of the shrouded imperfections.

These imperfections can be indirect, or direct, imposed, or voluntary. Indirect imperfections are voluntary, when the person you want to tell your real condition to, does not even know what kind of thunderstorm they have created in your life, because you voluntarily give them that much importance. You might as well not even fall in their radar, but they become the test of your singular bandwidth.

Direct imperfections are imposed, by life in general. These are those obvious kinds which everyone is exposed too. They cling to you as parasites, but then they don't stop you for growth. Outwardly, you are growing, inwardly, they have eaten you up and rendered you hollow.

Simply put (can't, actually.), perfect was a word coined by an imperfection man's delusion of grandeur, I feel. It is not possible. I am not being pessimistic, and won't throw you into the garb of realistic attitude, but I am just being outright personal about my view. My view which I will not follow myself but will just put out there. Humans, are always striving for perfection. Strife exists, the hard work, the masking exists but the very destination is nonexistent. We are striving for something which is not even there. What will we attain then? What will come out of this masquerade, this projection of a 'nicety-nice' life, this striving hard to making every end meet?

Maybe all our imperfections combined, the very journey of the attainment, the very life we lead through such endeavours, becomes the destination.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Arey sun!

I am called the in between
Na ghar ka na ghat ka
Na idhar ka na udhar ka
Beech ka hoon mai,
Mujhe beech ka bulate ho.
I am called, the in between
Ladke ka haath pakadta hai,
And he wears pink
And he shaves
Chi, beech ka hai.
Arey ye to wo hai
Arey sun, ye us type ka hai.
Arey sun, arey iska na WO hai, na WO hai.
Arey sun, he is toh, you know, arey samajh na yaar.
I am called , um, what you call.
You don’t call.
You are ashamed.
Because I like a guy?
Being a guy?
Because I like a girl?
Being a girl?
Because I like both guys and girls?
At the same time?
He has not come out of the closet
How do they do ‘it?’
Do they even do ‘it’?
Yuck, chi, I don’t even want to imagine.
Because we are abnormal?
Aur nahi to kya,
Kitna gay banda hai ! Abnormal hee to hai!
Arey sun,
Inko dekh,
Inhe sharam aati hai.
Mujhe dekhkar
Inhe sharam aati,
Arey sun, dekh,
In becharon ko-
Inhe dekhke

Mujhe taras aati hai.

Thursday, January 29, 2015

Uss raste se jaanaa!

This post is a part of #UseYourAnd activity at BlogAdda in association with Gillette Venus“.

Don't take that road,
don't go to that market
don't go to that street.
Don't go to that lane when it is 10.
Don't go to that area when it is night.
You are a fool if you called a call taxi at 11 at night. Of course he drooled after looking at you.
You are a fool, if you took an auto rickshaw and did not pretend to call your dad/husband/boyfriend/brother to show that another man of higher social status is always looking after you.
You are a fool, if you don't take a pepper spray.
You are a fool, if you show cleavage.

You should have taken that other street, it does not have many men.
You should go to the market before 5. That way it is safer.
That street is abominable after 8 o clock.
That lane is to be avoided at night, men stare at you.
That area is full of potential rapists after 10 o clock.
Call the call taxi when you need transportation services at noon. Or else take the metro. And also, sit in the women's compartment. That way, it is safer. Doubly.

When you take an auto rickshaw, and if your phone cell is dead, it is okay, note the number of the number plate down.

Buy a pepper spray, learn karate, learn how to save yourself.
Wear better clothes, that way you are fine.

So when you tell me all this,
you don't even see the absurdity of what you are telling me to do, and not do.
To have, and not have.
That street might have 100 men during broad daylight and 10000 men at night.
I can get raped, if I have to, before 5 o clock, in the same market.
That street, might be abominable, even before 8 o clock.
Men , if they have to stare, will stare even during daytime.
No one is a potential rapist. No one is a potential victim.
Call taxi is called a call taxi for a reason. I can call it anytime. 
Sometimes when it is too far to take the women's compartment, I don't take it. And this "sometimes" is almost "Everytime". I don't want to walk THAT far, just because I am being deceived about its insurance of safety.

What is it, that will make a man's libido stronger after a particular point of time?
 If he has to rape, it can be anywhere, anytime.

You talk about "stronger probability", seeing the "statistics".

What about my friend who got touched at 11 in the morning in a College street?

ALL YOUR principles go down into the gutter.

The autorickshaw man can do whatever he wants to even if I do all that you want me to.

Pepper spray will remove him, but not what he tried to do.
Karate will save me, but not the society.
Better clothes are subjective. A halter neck top is good, if not for you, then I am not living your life , just like you are not living mine.

And it need not always be a man, isn't it! Crime, does it have a gender, always?

Rape, assault, unsafe conditions, do not have a time- period.
They can happen whenever, wherever.

You don't tell me to take another road.
Another lane.
Another street.
Another time.
Don't give me options of this OR that.
Safety OR get raped.
Don't take that sreet at night OR get raped.
Don't take call taxi OR get raped.
Wear full clothes OR get raped.
Have sex after marriage OR get raped.
Have a pepper spray OR get raped.
DO NOTHING or get raped.

Sorry. I will DO EVERYTHING AND it is in this godforsaken's society's hands, or more than that, in its mind, to ensure my safety. It will only happen, only if they don't call the street, lane, time, car, coach unsafe.

It is time to take the blame, and not send it around to geographical or temporal entities.

Blame yourself, individually. Change yourself. Take care of the pence, the pound will take care of itself.