The Glory Of Indian Roads

Dear Jade,

 I am doing well and at awe with the glory that is India. Every aspect of this mesmerizing country amazes me be its people, the place, the culture or the living. But what struck me the most were the roads, for India with its roads provides you with an experience that no other country can possibly compete with, not even our homeland New Zealand.

          Indians are born with nerves of steel and a blind sometimes paralyzing faith in the supreme power. The ease with which an Indian nonchalantly crosses the road as a colourful unbalanced truck misses him with a gap of a skin, shows his valour. India has two kinds of jungles, the first being the real one and the other one being the concrete jungle. The country rather brings out a whole new meaning to the term ‘concrete jungle’. A 2km ride through the city behind my personal guide Mr Sharma, gave me a taste of the domestic safari. It is much like the real Safari that you and I took in the forests of Africa, the only difference being the swapping of wild animals with the domestic stray ones. Jade, the Indian’s believe in protecting not only the freedom of its plebeians but also that of its animals. As Mr. Sharma gave me an overview of the city with the drive, I spotted a buffalo sun bathing in the middle of the road while his lower half was being cooled by the muddy water of the pothole it had made its temporary getaway. We drove past a herd of cows who were grazing on the bushes which were grown I guess specially for their benefit on the road dividers. As the donkeys seemed to be pondering on life altering questions in the middle of the road, stray dogs were busy chasing piglets across the National Highway. People drove through whatever place was left, making random twists and jolts to escape the craters that I think were particularly designed to give us all a true safari experience.

          I wonder as to what keeps the Indians away from and winning sports events like the ‘World Dirt Bike Championships’. These men of steel with their nerve jittering escapades on the roads and their mastery on the techniques of survival can give the riders from other countries a run for their money. Jade, to drive in India requires skill which cannot be taught but has to be passed down the generation lane through genes. You are born an Indian rider, you never become one! There is but one rule that you need to know before trying out the Indian roads, and that is ‘Just survive it’. The Indians wince at the thought of using a helmet for not only does it hinder their highly fashionable existence but also seems to be a direct spit on their gallantry. Real soldiers don’t need body armour they say!

           Jade, do you remember the first lesson our parents taught us regarding the streets? The first rule of the streets is that when you cross it you first look right, then left, then again right and only then cross. Here in India such childish rules don’t apply. The mantra is to just believe that no one will hit you dead and have pure faith in mankind! But one thing I learnt is to drive atleast two metres away from the vehicle in front, for you never know when the driver or the passenger would find the need to build up their saliva and spit unannounced on the road, which sometimes the air carries towards your face. A vehicle on Indian roads needs just a few facilities apart from the basic engine. It only needs a steering equipment, a brake, an accelerator, a horn and a suspension to protect your spine. According to me there is absolutely no need for an indicator at all for it is beautifully replaced by striking out your arm a split second before taking a turn. 

          The Indians are so used to living in a populated country that they know how to share the little things they manage to get. This can even be seen on the roads. The number of people on a motorcycle or inside a car exceeds the actual weight of the vehicle itself, but such minor details do not hinder a true Indian. I now know how the Indian soldiers are able to perform the motorbike stunts I witnessed during the Independence Day parade of the country this time. I am also sending you some pictures for your enjoyment and understanding.

         My love, I have to stop my letter here for my time is limited in this truly intriguing country.  But before I quit the pen, I must tell you that we the people of New Zealand don’t know where our taxes have gone, but the Indians know where their taxes have been used. Just one look at the glamorous roads with its designed potholes is enough.

Thinking about you,

Samuel.  

The one during Independence Day...

P.S- Yesterday happened to be the most embarrassing day of my life. My maid caught me butt naked as she came upstairs unannounced to clean my room. Also the weighing scale at the gym showed that I lost 2 kg's. My joy knew no bound until my father declared that the weighing scale was declared incorrect. 

P.P.S- I want all my readers to make way for something healthy. Yes! I want you to include green tea in your diet. It tastes bitter but you do shed a few pounds :D

               

Image Courtesy- snagesh.com

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

THE ALMOST MAN

I happen to write this with a guilty conscience and a confused soul. I used to be the kind of person who supported the general notion that men remain rooted to a relationship until his woman hints him towards tying the nuptials. I never had a strong reason to back up my statement except for the melodramas my eyes had witnessed in movies since the time I had my mind ticking. But after licking dry the experience gathered in my 23 years of life, I have proved my hypothesis wrong.

When a relationship is true and when its depth is boundless, a man drowns in its sweet symphony and never dreams of being rescued. He goes in all lengths and fights all odds to just make it work with you. But a woman caresses her man with her unconditional love while living with the list in her mind about his faults and his shortcomings. She wants to see him grow and she wants to be a part of his growth.  She doesn’t want her Mr. Right packed and delivered but wants to be the one who manufactured him. She wants to be his mother, which later ruins their relationship.

I loved him for the man he almost was. The chemistry between us, the infinite love from both sides and his amazing virtues, made me believe that he is the one I want to invest my future on. I beautifully ignored the adjustments I was making because I was in love, pure and deep love. But my mind and my conscience revolted against my heart and pinched me now and then reminding me that adjustments where part of marriage not love affairs. Why be in a relationship when you feel guilty about it? Why force yourself to prioritize someone when you know your priority is something else.  Why settle in for the almost man for you with your adoration and your succulent love are just being a hindrance to his success. Men never grow until they are challenged and till you smother him with you adoration, he shall never grow.

Sometimes women think they don’t deserve Mr Right. I still think ‘what if I never find someone who loves me the way he did?’ or ‘what if the man I marry never trusts me the way he did?’ But now I have come to peace with this and have given the universe a chance to prove my notions wrong. I believe I deserve Mr Right and my almost man might be someone else’s Mr. Right. I was his ‘Almost woman’ for I was just slowing him down with my blind adoration. Our future just wasn’t linked.

But if only Mr. Right was as enticing as the Almost man. You my almost man will always be the one with my heart.

P.S- Sometimes I feel that I made a huge mistake, but most of the times I feel at peace for I don’t feel guilty anymore. But I don’t regret my past for it was beautiful. But I pray my future does not punish me for it.

P.P.S- “ As soon as forever is through, I will be over you” –TOTO

P.P.P.S- Not the humour post you looked forward to? Sometimes the soul needs to vent.

THE INDIAN WAY OF FINDING Mr.RIGHT !!

There are two types of young Malayalee women. One, those who are enlisted on any or all of the various matrimony sites or Two, those who rebelled against it or are the fruits of the loins of those fathers who rebel against it. I believed myself to be the fruit of one such loin until I was proved wrong by being colourfully displayed as a ‘Simple, caring, traditional girl’ on a presumed to be a top notch matrimonial site. 

For men being on a matrimonial website is just like being on any other social networking site, except for the fact that it is mostly steered around by their parents. But for women it is like being exhibited as the best possession one can tie a knot to and drag back home from a religion and caste based market.  Now I always knew that day was near. The day on which the saga of my arranged marriage starts. The day when I join thousands of citizens belonging to the kingdom of muliebrity who have already started the search for their Mr ‘Parents & Society claim him to be’ Right. 

As soon as I crash-landed home after 5 yrs of Law University, the crickets alias the relatives started chirping. Ignoring their matters at home, everyone oiled up their eyes in anticipation for the day my parents finally notice their presumed to be mature daughter and take their first step towards the destruction of the independence their offspring was enjoying. Three weeks back, I plunged or was rather thrown with tied limbs into the world of matrimonial sites. Sandwiched between my parents and forcefully glued in front of the laptop, I was made to type my own profile with words which screamed the antonyms of my character and personality. This was going to be a serious case of ‘caveat emptor’, which in simple words meant ‘let the buyer beware and save his own ass’. My hobbies according to the site includes ‘handicrafts, pet & cooking’ and my conscious pricks me on my derriere when I remember the fact that the only craft I ever made was fake flowers made out of AMUL milk packets for the best out of waste competition during my 6^th grade (bastards didn’t even provide me with a consolation prize) and also the realization that my cooking experiments have numbed several taste buds belonging to various creatures including mine. But then again, there is always time to learn, isnt it? 

Now I refuse to believe any chick who says that the idea of being on a matrimonial site never amused her. That bitch is lying! Obviously the scene is different in case of committed ladies. No matter how uninterested you claim to be you will sneak into your account just to look at how many proposals you have got till date or how many members have viewed your profile. You want to be desired or ‘want-able’ if any such word exists. You expect drool-some men to bang on your virtual door and ask your parents for your hand in marriage, even if you look like a dying hag. You can’t blame yourself since you are a woman after all. You will even indirectly provide your mother with your best photos, photoshop it a bit just to be the cream of the crowd. I too was shocked by the change of my attitude towards this whole event. Though I refused to be draped in a kanjeevaram saree and pose before the fake poster garden in a studio with my right hand resting awkwardly on a plastic pillar, I did allow them to upload a few photos of mine on the site. The first week of being on the matrimonial site was exciting since this was a whole new chapter and a new twist to my young life. This is when you should appreciate the technological advancement or even the existence of this thing called software. The site with its drop down lists shortlists the candidates according to your preference regarding religion, caste, height, weight, bank balance, food habits, drinking and smoking habits etc, and voila you have an endless list of probable grooms. 

But this excitement was short lived for the good looking men never send you proposals. After getting proposals from 12 divorcees, 10 uncles and 28 men who look like rapists, I have lost my faith on the Indian marriage system. Being on a matrimonial site is a huge mistake for you will always be bombarded with horrendous proposals. My father lost 1500 bucks to get my profile highlighted on the site so that this gem is not overlooked by the possible buyers and I on the other hand have nightmares about random men stopping me on the city streets and screaming my Matrimonial ID out instead of my name. Anyone on the matrimonial site is an established LOSER. 

I NOW CURSE THE DAY I WAS BORN!!!!!!!

P.S- You shall from now on be tortured with regular posts. Life is like a bag of potato chips and I haven’t figured out why. Sometimes you just feel like suing God!

P.P.S- Some of you mailed me while I was away. You guys are way too generous with your kind words!!

P.P.P.S- I know this post isn’t my best. I am recovering from my deep virtual slumber. So MERCY!!

SEX VEX

Sex is my favourite subject both theoretically and practically. My special inclination towards this particular field is genetically imbibed by my nervous system because I am an Indian. I am from the land which gave birth to the nomad sage who wrote the pain in the hole(s) ‘KAMASUTRA’. I mean I am pretty sure that he did not stick to a single yoga woman to practise all those intricate and sometimes life threatening positions but a variety of prostitutes which he choose fussily according to the body mass and spine bending each position demanded. There is even the possibility of the existence of inflated dolls even then or the usage of a skilled contortionist who is also a part time slut. 

It’s funny how the Indian culture proclaims to be least promiscuous culture in the world and it does so by shunning pre marital sex and claiming that all their daughters are tight sealed till after marriage. Yet it happens to be country which is ranked 2^nd when it comes to searching the term ‘sex’ in Google. Sadly Pakistan took the 1^st position but behold there is hope for there is always a next year!!

Majority of the MENkind in our country demand a sealed woman when it comes to marriage, while a major section of the WOMENkind who lost their V Card long before marriage to some ex flame, plan on squeezing their pelvic muscles tight and blame the spin bike sessions at the gym for not bleeding on the D Day! Why is sex such a taboo when it is the greatest entertainment known to man? Why is virginity an issue? Why should one save himself/ herself till he/she is tied into a lifelong relationship solemnized before the entire family and legalized by paper? Well yes, our culture says so and we should respect that.

Incest has always been a peculiar issue. I deem it to be an offence and contrary to the rules set by nature. But how did this entire taboo against incestual sex begin? There are customs which permit marriages between close relatives. History shows that incestuous marriages were widespread at least during the Graeco-Roman period of Egyptian history. Numerous papyri and the Roman census declarations attest to many husbands and wives as being brother and sister. Incest still happens behind closed doors and even if marriage happens by eloping, one never tries to find out the history of the relationship. My point is there used to be a time when same sex marriages or the whole concept of being gay was a taboo and contrary to the rules of God himself. Now it is deemed a human right by us to choose your sexual inclination and be respected for that. Will a time come when humanity will become so open minded that even incest would be able to come out of the closet? I pray NOT!!

I believe that the Sexual frustration among men is the highest in our country. Our moral police ministers watch porn while the assembly is in progress. Of the top 10 cities in the world searching for “sex” as per Google Trends data, eight are Indian. Why blame it all on the men when accept it or not, our women population are equally curious. Not that I have anything against watching porn! But why hide your interest in the subject? Why switch channels as soon as the ‘MANFORCE black grape condoms’ commercial starts? And if Indians are not sexually promiscuous atleast in their mind, then show it on the population count which is beyond galactic!!!

Now my brother is 16 yr old and this means that my mother is stalking him like crazy. The problem with my adorable mother is that her stalking becomes immensely nerve tearing, sometimes leading to delegation of her detective work to me. Why should I stalk my brother and report to her if my brother has been a naughty boy by talking to loose ladies online or visiting some porny sites? He is a growing boy and no matter how much you stop him, he will always find his way to what he likes. If he wants to watch, let him for he will one day get over it and if he doesn’t, good for him. What is so wrong in him being curious unless offcourse he wants practical lessons! Oh dear Lord!!

I think this post is getting a little too dirty and I don’t have the slightest clue as to what was in my mind when I started writing. But yeah! Here is a post finally. 

P.S- Been busy and don’t know with what. Life sometimes keeps you on your toes. Sorry for not keeping track of the posts on my blog list.

P.P.S- I am now a Law Graduate. Just can’t wait for the convocation! Jobless though….but not for long!!
P.P.P.S- Btw made Choco Lava some days back. I am Bloody proud!! :D

The Great Indian Pooping!!!

India will always be a developing country. The civility of our countrymen will force it to remain that way. We just cannot let go of our animal like tendencies and make way to something less grotesque. 

So I understand that we derived the idea of shitting and peeing anywhere and everywhere from our ancestors the Chimpanzees or conceptually the early Man. But while the rest of the world evolved into people with stance and etiquette, we stuck like glue to our age old barbaric living. We continued blessing the land with our faeces and piddle undisturbed, in every land or nook left unattended and unused. Our citizens, be it man or woman, do not believe in false modesty by shying away from the concept of pooping together while the rest of the world passes them unperturbed.

I have spent 14 yrs of my life seeing the buttocks of a considerate number of slum dwellers as the bus dropped me to school every morning and if in case I got too busy to notice the defecating ceremony, I could still catch a glimpse or two through the windows of my classroom. All this became possible due to the large ground facing the slums and located right in front of my school, which the thoughtful government kept free for conducting small sports activities. Every morning, the slum dwellers, irrespective of their gender, age or butt cheek size, march towards the ground with a mug of water, unload the previous days load and frolic back with a smile of satisfaction on their face. On the same ground every year in the month of October, thousands of people including me stand to joyfully celebrate the bursting away of Ravana. To prep up of the land for the Dussehra celebrations, the munificent municipal corporation comes with truckload of sand to carpet the land fully pasted with human poop. The land becomes a fresh open toilet for the slum dwellers from the next day onwards. 

Soon the less barbaric lot of the city, wrote and pestered the local government to build public toilets on that land for the satisfaction of both the excreting slum dweller and the forced to watch plebeians. Hence, a line of toilets were built upon the area which was poop coated every day. But they say it right, ‘you can’t teach an old dog new tricks’. While some the residents started using the newly built toilets, majority continued to practice their age old tradition by sitting right outside the toilet and defecating, sometimes accompanied by domestic animals. The dog and the master pooped together and that my friend is the equality we were unceasingly searching for. 

The human mind is hard to decipher and the act of those who had a toilet to use but were persistent on passing stool on an open land, is still being researched upon. Even a notice was pasted on the walls of the toilet that not even a penny is charged for using the toilet, made brick by brick only for the slum dwellers.

The reason for ignoring the amenities could be many. May be it is the joy of a taking a dump in the company of your family and friends. Maybe it’s their preferred way to discuss the current affairs of the world. Maybe it’s their chance of meeting new people. Maybe it’s the view. Like I said, the human mind is hard to decipher.

Image Courtesy- stockpicturesforeveryone.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.