Monday, March 02, 2015

The Kindness of Strangers

I have mentioned before how much I am always touched and humbled by the kindness of strangers. It's always most unexpected but just by being there for you, they give you so much strength to power on.

The past weekend I proved my idiocy again by getting into an easily avoidable accident involving myself, my ancient scooter and the road. The end result was me looking like something out of Saw and feverishly placing ice packs on any area of my face not covered with blood so that I could look human again. During this time, the few friends I did choose to mention my injuries to really touched me with their concern, going so far as forcing a promise from me to never ever try to kill myself in that preferred method again.

The rest of the kindness that came my way was from unexpected quarters: The neighbour who actually made biryani for me to cheer me up; the landlady who prepared me a lovely dinner; the sweet man who took me to hospital when he didn't have to. I'm ever grateful for being proved that I'm a twat whose misanthropy is misplaced, for the most part at least.

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

The problem with sex

Sex is clearly a very big problem. Ask any teacher who's had to discipline boys and girls from talking to each other in class. After all, talking between boys and girls leads to sex, right?

Sex is such a big problem, that you have men up in arms about legalising prostitution - not so that women and men who might actually want to consider a viable option as a sex worker will have their rights protected, and so that it also means there will be less trafficking of minors who are unable to give their consent to being used for sex - but so that their sexually starved brethren will be able to bang out their frustrations in their friendly neighbourhood red light area. After all, if a man is sexually frustrated, he might commit rape, right? Just like a poor man has every right to kill or rob people to satisfy his need.

Clearly, sex is a problem that's staring us in the face. In the darkness of your bedroom, under the covers, far far behind the last book in your bookshelf so mom can't find it. Too little sex and you can be turned into an angry wreck, fuming at every happy couple that passes you by, or alternatively actually pursuing a hobby of worth and making something worthy of your life. Too much sex and you're a nymphoniac tharki slut who should be named and shamed and taught to be more cultural.

I mean, it's not as though sex is a vital function that can be used as an expression of love between two loving partners of a consensual relationship; it's not as if sex is as basic to our human character, as say, hunger and the satisfaction of it is. If you're asexual, it surely doesn't matter to you. But if you are a sexual being, sex, I'm reckoning is something that should be on your mind, at least once a year on your birthday, if you're lucky.

Now, even Google turns on us sex 'aficionados'. Pooh-poohing the 'dirty' human desire for sex and ignoring the fact that we're all naked underneath our clothes, Blogger has announced its new Adult Content Policy.  Basically it says that if you have sexually explicit content or graphic depictions of nudity on your blogs (unless they're relevant to the subject like art and stuff (no, mommy, no more naked pictures of your baby on your blog unless you've artfully twisted the umbilical cord remnants around its neck)), Blogger will force you to take off said content or will convert your blog to a private one.

I never expected Google to do a Harsh Vardhan on us. I mean, what if the blog were discussing sex in a positive way, teaching young adults what was okay or not? Do they have to poke about in the dark, perverted, paedophilic recesses of the Internet to find out how to have sex? If blogging is all about freedom of expression, how is this new ruling going to help? If they're all for blocking porn, why on earth can't they find a way to do that without taking away the rights from other bloggers who aren't using it for porn? Does this mean that someday TOI will be censored by the gods of the Internet for those shots of Deepika's cleavage and be deemed a porn site?

I wish I could somehow blame this on Modi and make it go away.

Anger is... best dissipated with chai, sutta and friends

This one is admittedly inspired by one of my favourite online channels TVF Qtiyapa​ that comes out with irregular episodes of the 'Chai Sutta Chronicles'.

When I used to go into the office back in the day (working from home can really increase your social need), there was always time for a relaxing cigarette break with your sutta buddy. Some tea, a smoke and lots of bitching was all you needed to take any stress off of that impending deadline. It was also nice to just sit up with my roommates (yeah, living alone increases your social need to; need I remind you I'm misanthropic?!) in the middle of the night, send someone into the kitchen to make some garama garam chai and sit back with a much needed sutta for relief.

Sending one of them to scout for sutta in the middle of the night optional. Dedicated to everyone who feels the same way.

Anger is... Driving in Bangalore

There's nothing romantic about traffic in Bangalore. While I know my more worse off peers have to endure stationary vehicles on the Silk Board route and the never moving traffic flow at Whitefield, I have to contend with the madness at the Begur-Bommanahalli road. On this wonderful little stretch of approximately 2km, you have to combat with cows, dogs, humans, two wheelers and mad auto rickshaw men as they all want to use the middle of the road and feign complete deafness to my honking horn. It's especially delightful how the traffic policemen stand idly by ignoring the melee, sometimes even stepping into the fray, almost daring you to ram into them when they know you wouldn't dare. It's enough to make one... extremely angry!

Monday, February 23, 2015

Anger is... 'Eve Teasing'

I wasn't asking for it, so you shouldn't either, butthead.

Like my Facebook page:

A Case of the Night before Monday

While you're here, why don't you check out my Facebook page, which I promise to keep updated with toons like this one... Pretty please?

Anger is... Saffron

Sunday, February 22, 2015

Patriarchy is not your father

Patriarchy is not some khap panchayat in a remote village far away from your sphere of influence passing a diktat banning mobile phone usage by women.
Patriarchy is expecting your wife to get you a hot meal every morning and every night because she married you.

Patriarchy is not Somnath Bharathi ordering African nationals to give a urine drug test in the middle of the road in the middle of the night.
Patriarchy is expecting your wife to take care of the child begotten by the both of you even on a Sunday when she'd love to take a breather instead.

Patriarchy is not a roast where some comedians tell misogynist jokes about their female peers who are then expected to laugh it off and be part of the club.
Patriarchy is stalking a girl expecting, insisting her to someday fall in love with you; assuming that a good girl dislikes sex and must never make the first move; expecting your girlfriend to cook for you to express her love.

Patriarchy is not your father hitting your mother.
Patriarchy is you stifling the voice of the woman in your life.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Our Angry Hindu People

The Hindus in India are an angry lot. They launch on never ending tirades as to how the minorities are taking over the country, how there are far too many mosques come up near their temples and how more sadhvis need to enter politics.

But why are they so angry? Well, let's take a look at two possible reasons.

They're stuck in this country. You know how Christians can generally find a permanent residence in a Western country, simply by virtue of their Christian name? Or even the Anglo Indians who all settle in Australia or Canada or the UK thanks to their great great great grand aunt's foreign passport. Similarly, you have Muslims with easy access to the Middle East thanks to their Islamic roots. But where do the Hindus go when they want to get out of the land they are inextricably linked to via their parents birth? By their own admission, India belongs to them and they belong to India. Basically, by embracing the country they're making good of a raw deal.

Saffron. Saffron is the colour of the Hindu flag, the clothes worn by any Baba who's committed enough rapes under the guise of imparting holy wisdom and the colour that runs through Narendra Modi's veins. Saffron is also a spice added for colouring to Indian food. Who really eats saffron, anyway? Saffron doesn't fill your stomach. Could this possibly be a reason that the Hindus are so worked up? Saffron is the colour of the rage of the Hindu as they jealously watch the Muslim tucking into a delicious biryani or a Christian enjoying bacon and beer without fear of some random politician reminding them of their cultural heritage.

You really can't blame the Hindus, can you? Let them have the country; we'll still have all the fun.

Saturday, February 14, 2015

Don't kiss me

Don't kiss me my dear
There's still the stench
Of last night's liquor
On your breath

Don't touch me my sweet
My body's still sore
From the beating you gave me
When you wanted more

Don't sleep with me baby
It feels like a rape
When you paw me and force me
When I'm not even awake

Don't kiss me my darling
I don't think I can stand
I'd rather not be kissing
When I don't love the man

Friday, February 13, 2015


The courageous young man he, knew not of his own courage. Always the one to listen, last to speak. His eyes mirrored how deeply he pondered every discourse. Many would confide in him and find a sympathetic ear, words of encouragement and calm assurances that things would turn out alright.

But he struggled alone he, caring for his father's business, forgoing his own education for that of his sibling. He had broad shoulders that had several burdens to bear. He calmly faced all odds. The brave man he, fought all alone.

Not knowing he, if his dream would ever be realised. Quietly making right things at home, making off to a distant land to follow his heart. The quiet man, he worked hard. Struggled. Quite alone.

Several months went by, the deep thinker he, journeyed alone ever seeking, sometimes losing faith, never losing passion in his dreams, he. He did finally reach that frontier for which he had waited for so long.

The courageous man he, now smiles from his pinnacle of success. And he no longer smiles alone.