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.

THE ART OF BEING TRADITIONAL WITH A MODERN APPROACH....

A quintessential Indian woman should be traditional. She should be shy, reserved, blushing at the rate of 1 blush per 15 seconds and above all she must practice geometrical drawings with her toes on the ground at the sight of a guy she likes. According to the “SOCIETY, A CRAZY BREED” dictionary, a modern girl means “A homo sapien of the female gender who suffers from a psychological illness whereby she believes that she is born with the freedom that only the male gender enjoys.” In a country like India, being modern is the more unacceptable than pre marital sex.

So I got enlisted in one of the premium matrimonial websites last year, for a period of 3 mths. My profile was paid for, extra bucks were thrown in to get my profile highlighted in blue and a little more was spent for the ease with which the male species would come across a tigress like me. After all I am such a magnificent catch. At the end of 3 mths and 72 proposals, all of which came from divorcees, innocent 25yr old divorcee with YouTube links on his profile of him singing,  10^th class fail, 45 year old pedophiles, bald body builders, too thin to be carried on my shoulders, watchman, Muslim men with a fantasy of marrying a Hindu girl and women pretending to be men, my family called it quits. They were disappointed with the kind of crowd I was drawing to myself. My relatives declared that there was something very very wrong with me. When every second Indian traditional girl is finding her Mr. Perfect through matrimonial site intervention, why not me? The answer was found in my Bio which read something like this:

“We are looking for a suitable alliance for our fair, well educated and employed daughter. Our daughter is Modern and was raised in the North. We seek alliance from Like minded boy with SHUDH JADAKAM. Please contact us for the detailed horoscope”

The reason behind my failed matrimonial fashion parade was the word “MODERN”. After a few hours of analyzing, over analyzing, putting forward a thesis and a dozen antithesis, my family decided to replace the word “MODERN” with “TRADITIONAL WITH A MODERN APPROACH”. That is the sole hurdle in my journey towards matrimonial enlightenment. So now my 'About Me' says:

“We are looking for a suitable alliance for our fair, well educated and employed daughter. Our daughter is traditional with a modern approach and was raised in the North. We seek alliance from Like minded boy with SHUDH JADAKAM. Please contact us for the detailed horoscope.”

(Kindly note that there is no mention of the fact that I am an advocate. Thank you very much.)

How exactly does one become traditional with a modern approach? Does it mean that I drape myself with Kanjeevaram saree while wearing Louis Vuitton boots on my feet? Does it mean that I visit the temple every day and later smoke a joint at a rave party? Or does it mean that I touch my grandparent’s feet every time I leave the house and then at night share a snifter glass of wine with them? What exactly did it mean?

And then it hit me. Almost all Indian women are “Traditional with a modern approach”. Yes we are. We do like a drink every now and then but our family doesn’t know about it. We do wear short skirts when with friends but change into Kurta Pajama with Dupatta to cover our ample bosoms when we visit our grandparents. We do not see pre marital sex as taboo but we won’t tell about it to anyone. We like watching or reading porn but we won’t be open about it like the men. We have desires that our man knows but our family thinks we commit the crime that is sex only to procreate. We gossip about women who are adventurous, all the while hiding the adventures we have been a part of. We are Modern packed in a facade that is tradition.

So yes I am an epitome of a “Traditional with a Modern approach” woman. I have my secrets and I have my not so secret desires. I can make you a part of my secrets and force you to fall in love, all the while hiding my reality from the society. I lead a dual life. I am an illusionist.

And so you ask me, will I get married now that I am no more modern? Well, I promise you guys one thing. Whatever happens with me, it shall not be an ordinary story. It shall not be a simple case and it shall definitely not be through a matrimonial website parade. After all, I am traditional with a modern approach. *WINKS*

P.S- Do not see me as someone who is against the idea of getting married with the help of matrimonial websites. I am all for it and many of my friends are getting married to perfect hot sizzlers because of it. I just don’t like being a part of it.

P.P.S- New Year to you all!!! It is upon you and destiny to make it Happy or Crappy.

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

How To Escape An Arranged Marriage...

I am in that tragic phase of life. The phase which every person, be it man or woman cannot escape. The phase in your life which your parents have been waiting for ‘like a boss’. If you are an Indian, your life cycle has been genetically designed to endure the pain of arranged marriages, unless off course you create an outburst in your family and zip them up. This generally results in dramatic tears, exchange of chilli paste coated words and in the worst case scenario, disowning the offspring. 

I was born on 14^th September 1989 at 6:10 am in a place called Bhillai in Chattisgarh and before my first birthday on 14^th September 1990, my Jadakam or Kundli was custom made by an astrologer who claimed that he was King Aurangzeb’s favourite general Mr. Mir Jumla in his previous birth. Last month I stepped out of my student life and now I am the ripe mango which my granny thinks should be sold fast. Everything that glitters is not gold especially for us Malayalees and since it is the most essential item in any Keralite wedding, sometimes more important than the bride itself, the gold accumulation had started the moment I got out of school and into the law University. 

Fortunate I am that my parents did not hitch me up while I was still in college. Four of my batch mates are married and one is now shopping for maternity clothes. But the moment I was done with my college life, my father approached an assumed to be famous astrologer who sleepily asked for my birth date, place and time. He then made some geometric designs on a piece of paper and wrote  utter gibberish. According to him, I have to be married off within 2 years which my Dad thinks is time sufficient to find a dork of a guy to stick me up with for life. Well I will be 23 this September, so going with the calendar, I will be ruining somebody’s life by 25. 

Anyways, this prompted me to Google search some ways to escape arranged marriages and apart from some grotesque links on honour killing and videos about women who ran away from home, there was not much help available. So I sat down and pretended to be Buddha, followed by some eye to wall contact which led to some dull but useful ideas which as they say can change your life, for better or for worse.

Use any one or a combination or all of the following techniques during the groom visiting or bride seeing ceremony-

1)      Be honest- You where taught ‘honesty is the best policy’ for a reason and the reason is this. Be honest even if it hurts the ears of the listener. Let’s call the person who came to see you or the person you forcibly went to see the ‘scapegoat’. Pour in your honesty to the best of its ability but never before your parents. I intend to corner the scapegoat, away from the herd and introduce him to all the not so proud facts about myself with a few monstrous additions like the love for roasting bugs in candle flame during power cuts and my love for watching autopsy videos. This shall go one till he starts thinking I am the devils own. Well the fact that I am an advocate is a turn off in itself.

2)      Married Avatar- Introduce the scapegoat to your post wedding avatar. I plan on telling him that I intend to never adhere to the whims and fancies of his mother, give him nightmares about touching the Below Poverty Line due to my shopaholic tendencies and my devious idea of suing his family in a false case of domestic violence every time a trivial domestic turmoil arose. 

3)      De-Hymenated and Mr.Casanova- Your expertise in the field of bed doesn’t matter until you have the ability to lie about it. If you already are the broken one, then you are the chosen one, if you know what I mean! Just mathematically and statistically let the scapegoat know about the turbulent episodes you have had on bed with people who meant something to you and many who didn’t. It’s a sad state of affair that men still prefer virgins when it comes to marriage and women of expertise when it comes to just a fling. Well use that fact to your benefit. 

4)      Parent talk- Opt to tell your parents about the fact that you do not intend to marry until you feel you should and that they should quit showing you images of men with middle partition and hair oiled enough to stink even on photographs. This can cause a definite mayhem but then again worth a try.

If you utilise the above techniques in the most appropriate manner, you will ward away the scapegoat like a striped polecat. But this may also result in you being forever alone unless you have a back up plan i.e a lover waiting for you. Make sure that your parents are unaware of your evil intent or the situation can get a little too messy. You don’t want no filmy episodes!!!

But who knows there might be some douchebag who might like you inspite of all your ugly talks and your scary facts because he knows your game. That is when you should call it quits!!

P.S- I am back in action. Starting now all the posts that make it to my timeline shall be visited and read. College life is over and I am back home as an unemployed girl who is supposed to start preparing for civil judge exam up next year. 

P.P.S- I joined the gym again and the hot gay trainer is still here to rub salt on my open wounds. My heart aches!! If you are not familiar with the tale of the hottie, pls read THIS

P.P.P.S- So anyone missed me? I have an inflated sense of self worth.