Woah-men's Day

2011-03-08



I open my eyes and check my phone to see if the Pulitzer prize committee found my fictional piece of fiction.

They haven’t.



But what a lot of people have found is the cheek to update their Blackberry and Facebook status to ‘happy women’s day’. I inwardly make a list of people who wish everybody on everything and are the reason why freedom of expression has become a drug around.



Just then, the cleaning lady enters my room, making sure to tell me how glad she is to find me awake. Jesus, I think to myself, can’t I enjoy my days of freedom and tea without the bitter taste of guilt? It’s international women’s day, I tell her, to celebrate the liberation of women. Just then she lifts her hand up, the very one she uses to clean 5 more houses is heavily bandaged. I don’t need to ask her what happened.



After continuously denying help being offered to her, she then tells me a story of how a woman, who had just moved into her area, was beaten to death by her husband. He loved her too much, she says while my eyes pop out of my head, couldn’t see her talking to anybody, not even working. Has this been reported I say? To which she smiles and says yes, the police came.



Just then she hears a cry from the cucine…it’s time for her to indulge tea and tête-à-tête.



I find Google all set in fourth gear, using bright colours we see at too-much-money weddings… they obviously won’t use the morbid hues of blues and greys and black- from PMS meets gothika, they would have heard it all. With artwork that you see on top of t-shirts adorned by phoreners in Paharganj or the hands of a bride-to-be, why would they think of putting someone close to… Bandit Queen?!



When I talk like this people me if I went to a girls’ college to study feminism. Right… as if the ancient forefathers and didn’t-want-to-be mothers had not had enough. So feminists became equivalent to cotton fibred women holding placards who haven’t had an orgasm in years-and the phenomenon of feminism was raped and what was left were stereotypes and bra burning.



To answer them, I did go to a girls’ college, I studied feminism amongst other things and still managed to wax my legs. Which brings us to the flipside of a “feminist” is a woman cashes in on the punani power. A friend of a friend, much like Barney from How I met your mother told me his philosophy.



According to him, it doesn’t matter if you have an MBA or a degree in Greek literature, as long as you know how to use the power of the vagina.



Here are two scenarios. Enter work like a scared and tamed damsel who doesn’t know how to use mascara and you’d probably end up wagging your pony along with the scut work you’re assigned.



And when you do manage to have the time to powder your face along with a skill set you already had, out come the sharks who think everything you do right, is a fluke.



Thus, the punani power a perfect blend of those women who have enough brains to wear red lipstick while presenting points that needed strategic relationship building. Use wisely, he says, and you shall conquer, coz it’s a world with messed up standards.



I can of one woman who might agree. No, not the minister who wanted to curb the broadcast of FTV in the 1990’s due to its evil effects on an eleven year old wanker. She makes the small percentage of women who went to parliament and questioned reservation for women in Parliament.



The one who would agree with me was the one who used her wits and promised men that it’ll all be okay- that when women become a part of the legislature, they wouldn’t bite their heads off for passing each bill. After all, many of the important positions, including the PM’s string pulling is vehemently done by a woman.



At 5’o clock my friend realises the whole day has gone by without wishing me ‘Happy Women’s Day.’ This somehow brings her how she hasn’t been promoted- she went from being an office hottie to the potty when she got hitched. And then she was considered to have ‘other’ priorities than work because she recently popped a baby.



Imagine the cheek of a good looking and capable software engineer to be thin, get married, get fat, have a baby, lose baby weight and think she had proved herself enough.



It’s almost as ironic who’d remember to follow John Galliano’s controversial career and still know what the repo rate is.



Just when I think of how I get to have a career and a choice not to marry at 22, I get a call from a friend saying he needs a help in sales. ‘You’re very persuasive’ he says and then adds ‘but also the fact that you have a sexy voice would do half the job.’



Humph.

Are you a whore or a housewife?

What comes to your mind when I say the word whore?


A chameli standing in bylane on a rainy night in Mumbai,a victim of circumstances feeding her children at the end of a night,a friendly phrase used in a conversation by a giant to the three princesses surrounding him.

Scratch that.

Think of a guy anywhere between early twenties and early thirties.Think of how many women he has been with.Those carrying their "manhood" up their pants will be formulating an answer for the above question.I know my answer,so I had this thought...

"Every guy is a whore or a housewife"


I have recently started working on a new course telling him how to identify the problem,analysing the sub-factors to the problem and finally using the alternatives which suit me best.

While I might not have used any of these methods in real life yet,it also said to follow the current trends,to take care of logistics,keep in the mind the environmental and internal factors in a situation that needs to be managed.


To make my point,herein I present a few case studies.I hope the guys I know love,hate and irritate will not get offended.After all,blogging is an art.

Case Study number 1.

My friend Huber(real name is hidden yet visible)

My chaddi buddy who never forgets to checks out a womans bosom and comment loudly enough on it...Loud enough that the girl in question is able to hear his comments,is a perfect stereotype.

Been in two serious relationships for long periods of time.Touch the wrong button and he aint gonna trust gonna again.

While he flirts with everything that possesses a punani,he looks for the right one.

A housewife,in the disguise of a whore,who'd prefer to come home,no,get drunk with someone four nights a week than randoming away.


Case number 2.

A recent friend,lets call him Raag(real name hidden yet visible) is thirty something years old.Sex and the City has taught me how to never judge or care for someone who hasnt gotten married.It has also taught me that if ur single and you're in your thirties,you've been around the block,as much as I'd think that maybe sex might actually get boring.

While entering the unknown territories of marriagehood is as confusing and mindf****** as the Matrix,he recently decided to enter the arena.

Jenny wants to become a plain Jain.


Case number 3.

Lets call him jhakas(real name hidden yet visible).Needless to say,he's anything but jhakaas.I have known him from the past four years or more...and I have know him from close quarters.

While he rants about how noone knows him or he's always been misunderstood,his record with girl is as stereotypical as chocolote ice cream being the new vanilla.

One dreadful relationship and off goes the belief in love.Girl are bitches.I agree.

Now he brags about the number of women he's done...Obviously,he makes it clear to them that he aint looking for nothing serious.

Right.

Like all girls want their hair to be messed up by vermillion.

Case number 4

Lets call him an A.It stands for an asshole.While my disgust and anger reaches new level everytime I think of him, he's the the most unique case ever.

The only relationship he has ever had was at the age of 25.It lasted a year long and managed to keep that girl the happiest times of her life.

Coz of his reasons,responsibilties whatever you may call it, it didnt work out.

He remains to be a single housewife.


You see,life is simpler.

Case number 5.

His name is Ish(real name hidden yet visible)

He fell in love.He fell outta it.He did quite a lotta girls.Now this is what we love,
the right girl making an honest guy outta the bad ass.

He hopes to marry her soon.

Case number 6

Never mind

Case number 7

We have all had one in our classroom,in college and now in our office.The clown.
Who makes you laugh,who opens your bag,who peeps into your jeans and who makes fun of your body hair when your late for your waxing appointment.

He makes nice with all of the girls who laugh at his jokes,but he always he one girl to go to the movies with,the one he will someday,take home.

Case number 8.

His name is Rajiv.He's been in two relationships.His second one is with me.
I'd like to think of him as a creature of habit.I'd like to think I am too.

While he says I ll be his only girlfriend ever,we know which cateogary he want to falls in.

*************************************************************************************


So what is the point of all these interesting men being spoken of on an insignificant blog?Coz if you're a man...you're a whore.Or a housewife.

Cool eh?

Danke.

Adish & Akanksha(Part 1)

Adish ran out of ciggerettes.Note to self,he thought,"Don't enter parties you hate,without a sedative."

Exhaling with frustration,he looked around at the dimly lit lounge bar he was standing in.One of the cities most popular places,he looked at the people who had nothing better to do attend this party..his party.

Oh that was the reason he was there.One of his associates walked over to him,with the usual handshake and half hug,feeling the fabric of his jacket and asked him-"And to which label do we along today Adish..."

Adish replied-"I'm not comfortable with labels."
Leaving a disgruntled Jai behind,he walked out of the pub.He knew Jai wouldn't make much of it.That's the good thing about guys.They don't think as much as girls.

Adish had the habit of speaking his mind to people at the wrong time,to those who knew very little of him,at places it didn't matter.

He crossed the street and asked for a packet of Marlboro to the vendor.

At the age of twenty-nine,he had not yet reached a comfort level with labels.
Straight.Gay.Bi.Bye.

He had been in many relationships,real figures were long forgotten.The real ones were remembered.He had immersed himself within the ying and the yang.His passion knew no limits,gender was not his concern.

Immerse yourself inside the other,like there's no tomorrow.It had cost him a lot of think like this.

And there she was,getting out of her car.Akanksha had never learnt how to drive.She had always been scared,too scared of running over a pedestrian over,too absorbed in her thoughts about that bitch at work or that bitch she'd be dating.

He could make out that she was wearing something black...yes a black dress,revealing her back and her neck and her long stemmed legs...the black strands of her around her face.

Perfection was what came to his mind."Fucking shit" was what came out of his mouth.

Extinguishing his half-finished ciggerette,he went inside after her...But wait,would she be happy to see him?

He felt his car keys in his pocket...but,damn,he couldn't leave.This was work.

She probably wouldn't even notice...thanks, to the dim lights,over two hundred people and a whole lotta booze.

Sometimes,you cant explain it,not even to yourself.

He felt an urgency to talk to her,to let her know that he thinks of her,something that he he would never admit,not even to himself.But the immense fear of being disappointed when she would see him,made him stop.

"Could life get better...or worse?!?"

It so happens,that defeatism often gives way to audacity.After waking moments of disappointment and pain,come guts and stupidity wherein you let go of all that you care of,and react to an impulse that you meant to kill a long time ago.

But no,he decided it wouldn't be wise to approach her.Not like this.

Making his way to the bar,something he should have done a while ago,he got himself a "scotch on the rocks with a twist".

Midway through his drink,Jai put a hand on his shoulder..."Listen I know this isn't your favourite place to be,but you gotta mingle buddy.We've been counting on you to bring all your charm to maintain such an extensive clientele...Most of them have asked for you,including some good looking broads.

Jai made him smile.Adish nodded..."I'll straighten it out..gimme a minute."

Gulping down his drink,he ran his fingers through his hair,ready to win a few hearts,and fewer accounts.

Adish had his own way of making it through to people.

There were many who loathed him,just like all of us are,his arrogance and his conviction that came runningly evident,made some nauseous.

If one were to describe him physically,he wouldn't be striking to many.An average height of 5'11 with a wheatish complexion,chiselled features and a prominent jawline,he usually sported a three day old beard.

To some,he always looked tired.He looked tired of good sex or an extrordinary full life.The irony was that he thought his life was an absolute opposite.

But what did stand out, was his remarkable walk.It was always daring yet aimless,that of a wanderer in a quest of whatever.While he continued to grab the attention of some women around him,some who came with their spouse,he did business,taking care of their needs.

Those who would look at him closely,would notice that while Adish smiled making conversation with those around him,his smile never reached his eyes.

And she stood there,watching him,making his way to people she could barely know well as he could.Akanksha knew there'd be a chance of meeting him,she didnt want to take any chances.
This is why she wore her prada which recently cost her half her salary.

She checks her reflection in the mirror top of the table she's standing on.

She wishes he would look at her.She wishes he'd touch her.

She turns away,afraid of herself.

It was Akanksha who was restless to get out of the relationship.It was nothing that became something plausible,a cause that would give her sleepless nights.She had given it enough yet never felt the same from him.

It had gone on in a direction where there nothing remained in their relationship.It was Adish who had called it off.
"Have the guts to say what you want.If you don't,I 'll do it for you...."

After listening to Adish telling her he'd do anything to keep her,she knew she had had enough.

She stood there,waiting for him to leave.He walked out.

It took her a week to get out of bed.It took her a month to go back to work.She fakes an illness to apply for a sabbatical.

Someone asks why it failed,she pauses.."Sometimes,you don't get someone the way you want it to...all a girl wants is for someone to want her back.And when it goes away,you feel it.I felt it...and I decided to go away."

From being pursued to falling in love with Adish,it was all his doing.She was just left to follow him,to be swept off her feet.

She did.What she saw next was a quest of possession, of someone he wanted in his life.And as her expectations came crashing down,so did their relationship.Akanksha never bothered telling him all of this.

Taking a sip of the red wine she ordered,Akanksha wondered if she ever made him happy.
She sighed and turned in the direction she'd seen him standing in.

And that moment,their eyes met.
She could feel his eyes on her,through the haze of coloured lights,the pungent smell of sweat and smell,they stood facing each other.