Another Intellectual Being

Thoughts

I’m Disgusted.

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This city needs a vigilante.

This city needs to wake up to several mornings of mutilated bodies of criminals splayed on the sidewalks.

If I had a gun and If I had the resources I’d shoot them all in the head. The rapists, the molesters, the ones who got arrested and the ones who sit at home smiling. If i only had a way, If i only had an ounce of authority or power.

Delhi has now crossed limits and boundaries and I think it is time that people take actions.

A man touches you on the bus, push a knife into his stomach. He looks at you wrongly, gouge his eyes out.

You just simply cannot wait for your “leaders” to make things right. Our leaders are nothing but an infestation of pests. The question or the debate is no longer about BJP or Congress because it is almost like choosing between two evils.

It doesn’t matter who is more corrupt or more honest or whatever because at the end of the day they all live by the same principles. They are all purchasable.

Women, you should kill all the men you see, in true honesty I feel that none of us deserve to live anymore. Maybe with our end the plague will die out, maybe things will change because otherwise I’m sure that everything in this world is corruptible.


The Usual Symptoms

BurningLove


You are so ready to feel loved and feel worthy of being loved and yet you are so choosy on what that love would look like. Think of all the various types of love you have received in your life and realize that someone who is always late all the time isn’t really that bad. Some of the people who said they loved you just wanted to find a shortcut into your pants or they called you names, hit you, messed up your head and left you all in the name of affection. Life forces you to reach a stage when even someone remotely showing interested in you, makes you feel like you’ve caught the big fish.

You allow the disdainful courtship to proceed fairly quickly because you want to hear them say “I Love You”. Getting to know them properly with proper amounts of reflection and hesitation is currently not your plan of action. There is just someone frequently finding themselves in your arms, giving you a sense of devotion. You don’t even feel that you deserve more.

You hold on to them very tightly sitting together on the sofa of a posh upmarket café, knowing that the moment you both leave things will be different. You come to get used to the fact that they only give love in minute amounts, yet you cannot get accustomed to it. You feel a certain amount of longing even when they are only a few feet away from you. Their presence at your side is always a pleasant surprise, never something that you can ever take for granted.

You ask them for more signs of commitment and they stall you. You want them to tell you how much they need you but inside you know that they will say it only to please you. You quietly pray to god for a version of them that cares about you as much as you do for them. You quietly wish that they take you to a place with all their friends and proudly present you to every new person you meet. Just think about the life you would’ve had, if you did not know that they somehow felt ashamed about you. You know that they will never declare true love but bring yourself to believe that you don’t care.

But you do.

You feel the grasp of the relation closing around your neck and yet you don’t get a kick in the shin to tell you that “You deserve better”. You tell yourself that you expected worse than this and are contempt with the current situation, shame on you.

You meet a common friend on the road and they ask you “How long have you been in love?” and your ‘lover’ meekly replies “Ohh! We’re just seeing each other!” It suddenly brings you to realize that you are in a platonic relationship but you gave them free benefits, all that you planned with them was just like contemplated suicide, harsh.

Best of luck explaining the situation to all your closest friends who you told about your true love.

You tell them you are not in love.

You know you are.

You tell yourself that you’ll choose wisely next time. You won’t.


I’m Angry, Furious and Raving Mad.

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India is a country that borrows vastly from its past, such has oft been said about the country that I currently live in. Why India? Let us not anglicise the term, let us call the land Hindustan as our forefathers used to call it.

The past has shown women who speak for and think of themselves to be immoral and villainous; it is not I who is saying this. Go read the Mahabharata, the Ramayana or any Indian Scripture for that matter. On one hand our forefathers worshipped goddesses and on the other they condemned those who resembled embodiments of these very goddesses.

Women who are portrayed as the Perfect Woman in these epics are enormously beautiful, insanely willing to give service and totally dependent. They part that strikes as absolutely stupid is where the Evil Woman is neither beautiful nor willing to give and yet totally dependent on the males. A weird patriarchal society had been wrought by our forefathers that had no important place for women even though some parts of the Vedas argue.

The sex-appropriate ideals that are prominent throughout The Ramayana were a reflection of the patriarchal values that structured ancient Indian society. By placing the characteristics of the virtuous woman in stark contrast with the behaviours of men and immoral women, the epic attempts to justify the superiority of men and the subordination of women. This design also imparts upon the audience that the worth of a woman is measured by her beauty and the pleasure she can provide to her husband, and that her value was found through him rather than through herself.

Sita, in the Ramayana was captured by Ravana due to Rama’s foolishness and yet it has her character that came into question. It was she who had to take the “Fire’s Test” to prove herself. In this respect I find Ravana to be a better man than the ideal Rama, at least Ravana never forced himself upon the woman.

There are numerous examples in the glorious past of this country that detail the horrific crimes that have taken place on women. The “Nagarvadhu” was an elaborate concept detailed by our horny forefathers. A woman was chosen to be the “Nagarvadhu” or bride of the city, her work was to provide sexual satisfaction to anyone who came a knocking at her door. As I write this I am afraid that a religious fanatic of a political party might come across this and tell the world about this as a certain measure to stop rape in the present day.

India is actually one of the few countries in the world to have propaganda for “Religious Prostitution” in the ancient times. Pre-Pubescent Girls were married off to the Temple Idols and very conveniently had to service the priests, devotees and wayfarers.

Moving on to the medieval age, it simply does not matter because nobody in today’s society has heard of Razia Sultana, Durgavati, Mirabai and it has no effect on the minds of the people either.

The British oppression further widened the rifts between classes and turned women into objects. The British chased after the so-called “Dark Skinned Beauties” and raped them in front of their families, sometimes they had orgies where the family of the woman were called as servers. The situation was quite horrific. The British afraid of these facts leaking out did an about turn and started blaming the Indian men for blaming their women, this further aggravated the Indian Public and during the Revolt of 1857, nobody was spared.

The last thing that actually ruined things was the interpretation of women in Indian Cinema. Indian Cinema has always, and I repeat ALWAYS shown Rape as something that a woman enjoys after initial refute. You see a woman in a helpless situation with the rapist having a big smile on his face. The woman initially says no but then she is show kneading her toes into the bed which is shown as a sign of enjoyment. This is disgusting.

After the incident, either the rapist is never caught or the victim never tells anyone to save her face in the society or something equally absurd. Even if she gets justice it is only due to a timely intervention of the hero.

On the same terms we should make a certain movie compulsory for every boy in this country, a certain movie called Zakhmi Aurat. See this gorgeous review and synopsis about this movie – http://bollywooddeewana.blogspot.in/2009/10/zakhmi-aurat-1988.html

 

 So either you people raise your kids well or I’m going to go around showing this film to your kids and explaining to them what rape is, what castration is and how to respect women properly. It is a fair warning to all you people who read this and I’ll soon be interacting with those that cannot possibly read my blog.

 

This post is a ramble, I wrote non-stop and vented out everything in my head at once. I will not give solutions because those are debatable. I have listed a possible chain of events and perpetrators that have ruined society but it is not meant for blaming the above reasons for their actions. I am not defending anybody. If I had my way I would make them public examples of ridicule, shame and horror but then I am just an enraged 22 year old and my views hardly matter to the important people. Read this, discuss this, critique my views but before you drag me to the gallows for writing blasphemous things, do something to bring about a change in you. I’m not defaming anyone or anything, not even breaking any IPC. If however I am found guilty of doing so, arrest me.


Obese People Are As Good As Dead : “Shit Non-Fat Assholes Say”

 

Around 90% of people associate Obesity with imminent death. When you’re obese, everyone you meet is a well wisher, everyone has an opinion to give about your weight. People call you fat. I simply don’t understand how that has become an insult.

All of these people have certain cliched things to say:

“Beta, Why don’t you run?”

Well simply because I have tried and it does not work. Then again since I’m fat, anything that I claim to have tried or done about my weight is negated unless I have a lean-mean toned body at present.

“Metabolism? Arrey ussey kuch farak nahi padhta!”

Ya great, I never knew you were a doctor. How did you guess that my body’s inability to properly digest food is all bullshit? Oh the agony of knowing, of having consulted so many expensive doctors. If only you had appeared before me before, in shining light.

“Bro Gym Maar Yaar”

Oh! How come I never thought of that? Maybe because manual exercise is painful, it hurts my already effed up spine. My spondylosis, which is partially genetic hurts me, causes me pain. When I run, it hurts. When i sit, it hurts. It just hurts a lot from exercise Ok?

“You never try hard enough! You don’t care about your future!”

Ahh well. I don’t. Simply because I have and it doesn’t change shit. And as for my future, yeah my plan is a painful form of suicide which spans atleast 5-6 decades and involves me consuming everything that compels me to continue living.

“You’re going to have Health Problems. Fat kills you!”

Yes, on an average fat people tend to have heart problems but the majority of them are morbidly obese, have diabetes, sleep apnea and other hyper tension related diseases. No they don’t occur just like that.

I have as much chance of dying from obesity as of getting hit by lightning during a storm. I should propably stop enjoying rains too.

I just can’t understand why my weight appears to you as such an eyesore, you random strangers, relatives and guests.

I’m fat. It’s somewhat genetic. I could do all the shitty running and jogging, I could starve to death but I will remain the same.

Studies have shown thin people as having higher risks for heart disease, People should be glad that I didn’t have bulimia. Life is complicated folks, so stop stereotyping and branding things.

Obesity does not kill anymore than common cold. Sometimes you can have a metabolism which may not allow you to lose weight, sometimes your body frame may be too stocky. All external factors, multiple things that can affect a person.

So stop being pitiful and mean. Let a man with a paunch teach you the pleasure of eating. 🙂

 

P.S. – BMI is shit. Look here instead.


Kuch Bandh Padha Hain

Na jaane in darazo me rakka kya hain?
Kya hain woh khilone bachpan ke,
Kuch tute kuch adhmare se,
Jinke saath ab meri khelne ki chaah nahi h.

Ya phir rakhe hain kuch khat,
Kuch yaadein simat kar rakhi gayi hain.
Magar dhool jami hain darazo par,
Kya kholta hoga inhe ab koi?

Raakhe honge kuch purani baatein,
Woh school ke medal aur scholar badge ki yaadein.
Ab engineering padhte padhte unki,
Yaad aati hain khub jamke.

Yah hain bhai ki koi shaitani,
Koi surri bamb ya koi makaude.
Yaah kuch mithai chipai hogi usne,
Chup chupke khata hoga phursat me.

Na jaane in darazo me rakha kya hain?
Inhe kholkar dekhoonga kabhi.
Magar aaj waqt hi kaha hain,
College jaane se phursat hi nahi


Shopping with Women

Putting it forth more as a general observation than a general statement; Women love to shop.

Women love to meander their way through floors of one shopping arcade after another. They like to glide up glass escalators past a grand piano, or spray a perfume sample on themselves on their way to, maybe, making a purchase. Sale’s make them go even crazier. They’ll pick up every item of clothing on sale, put it against their body, critique it and put it back. Even then the Sales People pay more attention to them.

When they go on to the next shop and find a similar item of clothing as in the one before, they definitely have to know the price and then comment on whichever was better. Women are also considered masters in bargaining, if I could I’d let a lady do all my purchasing while I select the items myself. Just helps getting better value for money that way. Although I speak with no personal experience of being present with a girl choosing make-up, (Mine believes in simplicity, Bless her. :* ) I can definitely say that it must one hell of a dung bomb. Standing there seeing the girl with you pouting her lips, applying lipstick, taking it off, applying another and so the vicious circle continues. I feel blessed that I don’t have to go through this at least.

We men follow a simple routine: Enter, Select, Try, Buy, Exit. That’s it. We’re done and settled for at least the coming two months. I’m not saying that we follow this routine for everything we buy, No. I’m just commenting with respect to clothes, accessories, make-up and personal grooming.

Shopping for women is generally followed up by a widespread discussion of what she bought, how cheap it was and how awesome she thinks she looks in it with all of her female friends. While with men it’s just a thumbs up from your buddy next day in college.

While women have shopped with men (boyfriend/fiancé/husband) or at least tried, they seldom enjoy the experience. As I would say, Men are just more practical. We wouldn’t do any of those impractical things. Men on the other hand rarely shop with women if they’re not dating/married/to-be-married. It just causes us too much mental trauma.

Some studies even say that how men and women shop is sometimes related to how they indulgence in sex. Men start, do the deed and want to turn over and sleep while women see sex almost as a theatre drama with 3 main acts; Foreplay, Intercourse and After Play or Pillow Talk. Some men are different and so are some women.

Why I write such things? Well today I broke past my critical point. Almost 6 hours of shopping, talking about shopping, checking out shopping, dreaming about shopping more and cribbing about lack of money. Good benevolent being up there, I think I’ve had it for a lifetime. My legs hurt, I feel pukish when I look at clothes, I become blue when I look at sale signs. Someone please explain these symptoms to me. I may be dying.

Or is it just *Shopping with Women*?


Where Colors Come To Die

Where dreams shatter and clouds pour in color,

A man walks by in a single file of lies.

Bursts of wondrous joy and madness,

Pour in constant about us.

 

Where colors come to die and paint sheds a tear

When wondrous shapes fill the wall with smoke

Splashes of white waste on the walls

Colorful intrepid haze of acid

 

Floating the floor below us and above

In dewdrops of red and orange

Misty walls of distant dreams

Placemats of gods creation