POLISHING SCHOOLS......

Have you heard about Polishing schools? The type of schools mostly for young women, that focuses on teaching etiquettes and cultural norms as a preparation for her entry into the adult society? Have you heard of such schools?

If you are a girl, with no reference to a particular age here, you are unknowingly a part of a finishing school. The home that you are born into is your finishing school while your entire family are the teachers. You do not enrol into this course because you are just born into it. Hell, you do not even pay for it. 

This finishing school that you are unwittingly a part of has only one course to offer. A course of an undetermined length preparing you for a hassle free, divorce free and domestic violence free marriage. Still do not get me?

Do you remember the age of 18 when you were just angry at everything and life just completely sucked? It still does, but that is not the point. Do you remember how you would be simply angry at your mother, your father, your dog, your tailor and even at Ramu Kaka the driver? Precisely everyone? And do you remember how your mother poked you and told you “With this behaviour, if you are married off to another house, you would probably be thrown out by your in laws.”

Do you remember how you hate having rice, especially the big fat south Indian rice and you declare that no matter what happens you would never consume that dreadful rice? Do you remember how your grandmother declared “What if you get married to a guy who lives on this big fat rice? What is he loves it so much that he mistakes it for oxygen. What will you do then? You must consume rice.”

Do you remember how this one time your family was invited for dinner by someone whose name you constantly forget and they served you Malai Kofta, Paneer bhurjee, Dahi Vada and how you bluntly told them that you hate milk products? Do you remember how later that day your grandfather frowned at you and told you how you shouldn’t be so stubborn because your food habits will change according to the family you marry into?

Of course you don’t remember any of this, because all that happened with me.

And I say “to hell with this finishing school”. Why would you marry into a family that cannot accept you with your anger, stubbornness, your outspoken attitude and decides to throw you out? Why should you have rice because your guy likes to stuff himself with big fat rice? Let him have his rice, I will have my prized Chappathi. Why should I start drinking milk because the family I might marry into has a herd of cows in their backyard? Let them drink it all. Good for them! Why should I change?

Adapting to a new family and to a new phase of life is nice. But a forceful change that rips out your individuality and your personal choice is not a wise thing to do. And besides isn’t marriage a two way commitment?  Let the man throw away his anger, his rice porn and become anti-lacto. Then I would call it an equal world.

Because I am not a Goat, Mister! You cannot give me away and pray that they like my make. I am a Tigress. I mark my territory Sir!!

P.S- I shall die a spinster. Thank you!

P.P.S- Appeared in court as a Lawyer for the first time today. Felt good being the youngest around. Consumer Court Case.

GAMOPHOBIA !!

Everytime I look at my parents, my soul lingers out of my body, gives me a hot iron shovel hit and reminds me that they are the main reason behind my marriage phobia. Yes I seem to be suffering from this abysmal and indefensible mental issue called the Gamophobia (note the ‘Game’ part of the term). 

When I say so about my family, one might think that I belong to a tumultuous family where melodrama is in the air and dramatic notes play in the background as the members throw brick bats at each other. You might even think of me as a girl who was a staunch rebel because of her situations at home and grew up listening to or writing angry girl songs. You might even try to picture my family as one where the children run around wailing while the adults pry against each other or have round table conference regarding ancestral property division. But no, my family was none of that because it lacked spice. It was the usual, keep your voices low because the neighbours are listening type. My family ran like clockwork where everyone fulfilled their duties as a member, exchanged pleasantries, had dinner together and then returned to bed so as to continue the same routine the next day, every day. I belong to an average Indian family. 

Now the reason why this turned me into someone who fears marriage is because an average Indian family is based on the legendary patriarchal system. In this system the man shouts and the woman tolerates his callousness only because he is a man. According to this system the woman believes that manhood grants its member the authority to dominate and point fingers at the other sex. Almost every Indian family follows this rule. When a man shouts, it is because you did something wrong and when a woman shouts, she shouldn’t because she isn’t a man. 

They say that a father is the first man in a girl’s life and a girl looks for the qualities of her father in the man she wants to spend her life with. Not that I hate my father, but I would never want my husband (if any) to be like him for if he happens to be that type, my marriage would last as long as Kim Kardashian’s, maybe shorter. My father is an amazing father, so amazing that while other kids tried to smooth paste their parents by telling them that both were equally loved, I would be choosing my dad over my mother. It had always been that way. But as I grew up I started seeing the bigger picture. My father is a typical husband. A husband who lives to take care of his wife and kids but does so by losing his temper on issue trivial but holding the fort when bulky issues appear. His anger seems to be at his nose and my mother has to drink it up whenever it runs, only because he is a man.

I can never allow a man to shout at me for random things and I can never erase it from my mind within seconds. I am someone who remembers criticism and the ugly words that has ever come out regarding me from any mouth. I am someone who cries revenge when hurt and making things right with me takes more than a simple smile or a formal apology. I wonder how my mother continues to live this way, happily sandwiched between the whims and fancies of her husband and her two children. It’s not that my father practices domestic violence or resorts to ill words, but angry tone regarding subjects the woman had no hand on, I find that uncalled for. 

The method my mother adopts to combat her anger or humiliation is put into action after my father has vacated the scene of crime. She does so by mumbling to herself and then forgetting this ever happened in the next 5 seconds. Sometimes she fights back with a low voice but still she lets my father win in the end. Maybe this is what marriage is. Adjustments, because you just cannot get out of it, sacrifices because it is the cardinal principle of marriage and tolerance because you as a woman are supposed to land out of the womb with this lesson already injected in you. 

I know that I should be a clever girl and try not to marry ever, because my marriage is never going to be a success if my man happens to follow the patriarchal system. I am not the type of woman who will happily listen to him complaining and spends her life trying to please him, only because I am supposed to. I should also not be pictured as a woman who dominates her better half or spanks him on his ass with a whip (bedroom play excluded). This is why my parents are hitting their 25^th anniversary and I will be surprised if I ever hit my 1^st.

Maybe I should be a nun, but then even that commitment to God seems patriarchal to me. 

P.S- Even perfection has minute imperfections you chose to ignore. My father is the perfect husband for my mother and she chooses to ignore his anger issues by calling it his way to take out the stress from work and having an unmanageable kid like me. Also society could never make me realize that now I was a grown up lady, but today I noticed my father’s receding hairline and his massive bald spot and it kicked me brutally. Adorable him!!!!

P.P.S- The last time I was this thin was when I was in my 10^th grade. Gym is my second home and sexy clothes fit me!!!

P.P.P.S- Notice the new ‘Contact me’ widget on the side bar? Now you can mail me your queries or suggestions if any.

Image Courtesy-  funnyfactory.cheezeburger.com

Somebody Please Marry Me!

I have never been this humiliated. Like ever! I have no intention to get married any time soon and my parents too are least bothered about finding the perfect lungi Guy for me. 

I recently went for a marriage ceremony of some family relative’s second cousin’s granddaughter. As expected, I did not know a single soul out there. But why crib about it when you have 17 food stalls, all capable of making your tongue wet, scattered all around the marriage garden. I was keeping myself busy with my third serving of the Gulab Jamun and Icecream, when a fat aunty pops her head out from between the shoulders of two Gulliver size men and smiles at me as if she was my mother in my previous birth. I smiled back and then continued shoving the dessert down my food pipe. 

After I had carefully tested each and every food stall in the garden, including the much hated ‘DAHI VADA’ counter, I shut down the cacophony around me with the help of my headphones and went and stood near my mother, who was talking to a woman in whose plate a juicy JALEBI was left untouched. Such a waste she is!!

As I continued to pretend being amused and not at all bored, that fat woman came in my sight and I saw her smiling her toothless smile as she walked towards me. My mother, who believes in inviting embarrassment upon her only daughter i.e ME, smiled at the fat lady and even initiated the conversation, which went something like this.

Mother India- Namaste!

Fat Aunty-       Hello! My name is Mrs XYZ. I am from the groom’s side of the family.

Mother India- Oh!My name is Mrs ABCD. We are from the bride’s side.

Fat Aunty-    Oh no wonder! I was wondering why I have never seen you daughter in our Malayalee Association’s youth programmes. What is your name?

Mother India- Take the headphones out of your ears! How many times will I tell you that music at such loud volume will make you deaf? Haven’t I told you what happened to my office peon’s younger daughter? Meet Mrs XYZ. Mrs XYZ, meet my daughter RED HANDED.

Saying that, my mother left to wash her hands and then plunge herself into the dessert session. The lady caught hold of my wrist and came so close that I could get the stench of garlic from her mouth.

ME-              Namaste Aunty!

Fat Aunty-   Hello Beta! I have a son! He is in Dubai earning phorty thousand rupeej every mth.

ME-              OH OK.

Fat Aunty-   He is 27 yrs old and has done M.Sc in Chemistry from Chennai. He looks just like me!

ME-              OH OK.

Fat Aunty-   How old are you?

ME-              22 yrs.

Fat Aunty-  Oh Perfect age for getting married! What course are you doing?

ME-              I am in my Final Year of BA.LL.B(hons) from a National Law University.

FAT Aunty-  Oh Vakeel? LLB? Hmmm ok. Ok Beta. Bye!

Without even giving me a chance to make her understand the difference between LLB and BA.LLB , she ran the race of her life away from me. 

It’s not that I wanted to marry her GELF settled son. It’s not that I had any interest in the dog and his MSc (Chemistry) from Chennai. CHEMISTRY for God’s sake!! But what made me go for my fourth serving of GULAB JAMUN and ICECREAM was the fact that I was humiliated because the Fat aunty did not find me good enough for her lousy son. Just because I am a future lawyer a.k.a Vakeel. What does she think about me? I am just another girl who believes in marrying a good guy and ruining his life. Huh!

My Parents are going to have a really tough time trying to get rid of me.

P.S- I am in my worst mood because the University exams are doing Tandav on my head. Here is a random click. Ignore the mess behind!

FACEBOOK

GAME OVER

I feel like a commodity. A commodity owned by a shopkeeper who is eager to get rid of it. Actually, I am being treated as an article of trade. I know I am using rather harsh words but if you are my age and a girl and above all a Malayalee girl (it’s the frigging cherry on the cake), you would feel it too.

Last weekend I attended a marriage ceremony. I mean who likes to attend marriages? They are just like funerals. No body actually gives a shit about the poor Donkey and the ugly Monkey getting hooked up with each other for life. Basically everyone is there for the food and to strike the obligation out from the list, the obligation which society forces you to fulfil. Maybe the parents are happy but then again, it could be the happiness of just fulfilling your duty as a parent and being able to stand proudly in front of the world as a complete family.

So again I feel like a commodity. You ask me why and I tell you why! My relatives from the Deep South are under a strong belief that the basic purpose of their lives is to dig out a groom for me at all the weddings I attend under societal pressure. My parents do not care and think that I have considerable time left before they should start the marathon chase for the perfect one. That means I have around 4 yrs tension free. But my relatives, some of whom I don’t even recollect being related to, are acting like brokers. This is what happens in almost all the weddings I attend in Kerala.

Fat Ammai- Mole!! Why are you wearing Shalwar Shoot?

Me- Ammai, it’s just that I got to know about the wedding two days back and why dress up so gaudy?

Fat Ammai- What is this Mole?! You are 22 and you don’t have a Sharee? A Kanjeevaram? Atleast a Kasavu? Tch tch.

Me- It’s not my marriage! And I don’t even know the couple who got married. I don’t know half the people here.

Fat Ammai- We are all one femali. Mole! Atleast you should have worn a Gold-chain.

Me- I am wearing such huge earrings!! Gold chains are so out of fashion.

Fat Ammai- Gold is Gold! You are a Malayalee. Look at your bare neck. Also look at your hair. Why no oil? Remove the specs Mole!

Me- Fine! Next marriage I will come exactly as you want Ammai. Today let it be.

Fat Ammai- Che che che! What is this?! The beautician of the bride is still here. She will bootify your face! The wedding photographer is here too. I will make him click some full size photo of yours.

Me- What? Why? Why would you do such a thing?

Fat Ammai- You are getting old Mole! It’s our duty! Also I will post a photo to your Amma! She will be so happy.

Yes, this is what happens with me! I am pissed off with my relatives! You cannot say a word against them because you too are under the shackles of Indian Courtesy and Respect. The entire wedding reception goes on with my relative holding my hand and dragging me across the Pandal introducing me to random strange families. For some alien reason she does not tell them that I am a future LAWYER. Can anyone tell me why?

P.S- Priyanka! I will be taking the tag in the next post! I just that I want it to sound Intellectual enough. Work in progress! :D

P.S.S- I have joined twitter and you should know that I don’t like to talk to myself. So join up! You can see a follow up widget right below the Parental advisory image or just click HERE.

Why Should I Be Getting Married

1)      FRUIT THEORY-According to Amma girls are like Fruits as in the Apple, Banana, Orange kind. As she purports, the theory rightfully suggests that like fruits go bad after some time, girls too after an age go bad. Thus, they should be eaten/ married before the spoilage time. When asked about the spoilage post marriage she remarks “CAVEAT EMPTOR” which as most of you know means ‘LET THE BUYER BEWARE’.

2)      THE BABYUSER THEORY-I am tired of going to the shop and asking for Johnsons baby products. The old man gawks at me and then scans me from head to toe. Why can’t a 22 yr old girl use that product? Is it clinically prohibited? After marriage and ones the so called baby Red Handed comes, I can use the kid as the means to get my products. That way even the eerie looks can be escaped.

3)      ATM THEORY-I have come to a stage in my life where I am stuck. Final year of college and isn’t even sitting for placements since Law Firms and its heavy pocket salary doesn’t interest her ( Hard face slap). Wants to pursue higher studies and is interested in Government services and NGO’s but life is uncertain. So at this point getting married is the best option especially when the wants are always running 1000km/hr faster than the needs. A marriage to an ATM machine sounds generous enough.

4)      ON YOUR FACE THEORY-The relatives who have been stalking my Facebook account and gossiping about the mystery man can finally get it ON THEIR BLOODY FACES. I am tired of the cousins and aunties whose mug-heads are topped with halos, looming over my facebook profile and later asking me who is the guy I am talking to. I am tired of changing my privacy settings to the point that I have deleted half of the relatives and now my life is more bitched about than their favourite soaps villain.

5)      GOLD THEORY- Like I have mentioned in one of my previous post, being a Malayalee there is a lot of Gold involved in the marriage. I want to get married before the gold collected increases the amount I can put up with and stand throughout the ceremony.

P.S- I have not reached the SPOILAGE TIME and marriage is no where in the cards right now, but sometimes you think about marriage how much ever tom-boyish you are as a girl. Blame is to be put on the one who made me think about it. Sometimes you are so happy with certain moments spent that you just want to make it all yours and have it all your life. I am talking nonsense now.

P.S.S-  Sorry for posting this. Having my Stupid yet happy about it phase of life. If i find that anyone of you have stopped following me after this post, i am gonna start my famous VOODOO.The entire post makes no sense but was written because the writer wanted to. She has lost her mind. Prayers needed! 

Photo Courtesy- dumree.com