Ecstasy

It was a long way away, the ground; a good couple of minutes. And hard too: there would be a definite splat. Shrapnel would fly everywhere. But the usually crowded street was deserted. Funny that luck would start to favor her only at this moment in her life.

She felt liberated. The strong wind blew through her hair. Things could not have been more perfect, really.

She thought of her happy place. The tall grass, sun, breeze. Him. Them. All the people she loved. And she loved them most in this very moment.

Joy and love seemed almost to swallow her. She could not keep a smile from her face.

And she was hopeful. Hopeful of a better world without herself there.

She closed her eyes, spread out her arms. The smile on her face widened. And then she jumped.

Life theory #2

(For life theory #1, click here.)

Last semester was horrible (this one's worse, but that's a story for another time). There was shitloads of work, and the end semester exams were absolute disasters. So to get over the calamity that had been the past six months, me and S decided to do our (by now almost customary) end-semester shenanigans involving contraband, the night after the last exam. We got a nice big fat one rolled and were generally content with ourselves. Unfortunately, the exams had taken a toll on S and she fell asleep. I could not, of course, let a good thing go to waste. So after a few futile attempts to wake her up, I had to pick another partner in crime. Now G does not involve herself in shenanigans of this kind. But she is a nice enough friend to give me company when I do. So we sat out on the terrace while the stick at the end of my mouth burned out. At some point, the conversation tuned to something like this:

Me: X has a very pretty face.
G: Indeed.
Me: And very nice hair.
G: Hm.
Me: That's not really fair.
G: Say what?
Me: I mean, she doesn't deserve it. If I had my way, I'd like to live in a world where people only get what they deserve. And what they deserve should be based on how intelligent they are. And X is not intelligent. She is, in fact, the complete opposite of that. And by intelligent, I don't mean book smart.
G: Hold up. So you're proposing a world where only smart people are good looking?!
Me: Yes, that's how it should be! Attractive people get what they want. That should not happen if they are dumb. Dumb people do not deserve to look good, that's not right. In my ideal world, attractiveness would only be bestowed upon those truly deserving of it, and those truly deserving of it would only be those who are intelligent.

I remember G laughing a lot, so I gather it would've been a funnier conversation than I can presently recall. That might also be because a lot of it hinged on me using X as an example, and G happens to think that my disdain for X is rather comical.

Now I realize this is a very flawed model. Although I think that for a person not fully in her senses, I did rather well. Its inherent failings however were pointed out to me by a couple of friends much later. A world like that would mean a certain section of population hogging all the resources, the resources here being intelligence and good looks. That part which had neither of these would be left to fend for itself in an environment of adversity, to say the least, since they would have neither of those valued resources to progress in life with.

But the fact that I came up with such a world, and in fact was ardently passionate about its desirability, gave me pause. I've thought about it many times since, in varying states of sobriety. And I've come to realize that I perhaps value intelligence above all else, sometimes too much. Much more so than other people do. After all, the first book I ever saw my Dad read was Edward de Bono's Six Thinking Hats.

A friend recently told me about a phenomenon called sapiosexuality. It had instinctive appeal for me. I can't recall a single instance in my life when I've been attracted to someone purely based on their looks. They have to at least start talking for my mind to assess their appeal. Only when I have some basic impression of their overall level of intelligence can I mentally process any sort of inquiry about their desirability.
MS Word lists "good-looking", "nice-looking", "beautiful", "gorgeous", "striking", "eye-catching", "smart" and "pretty" as synonyms for "attractive". Only one out of those eight relate to the mind, and that itself is debatable. To me, it's extremely unfortunate that societal constructs today make it impossible to divorce something as subjective as attraction from pure physical appearance. But while that may be so, it's not enviable to possess an inherent condescension of people who're not all that smart. For instance, I'm almost physically incapable of carrying on any form of prolonged conversation with people below a certain level of intelligence. It's agonizing to make that effort. It deeply saddens me when I make a witty joke and certain people don't understand it, but as a consequence, I immediately start looking down on those people.

There are many qualities one can possess which make them a "good person", or someone others tend to like. Kindness, helpfulness, generosity, love. The weird thing is, I can forgive the absence of all of them, as long as someone is intelligent. I have no qualms being close friends with a person who doesn't donate to charity or feel for the poor, or even someone who steals an occasional twenty rupee note from my wallet, as long as I can make intelligent conversation with them. This raising of the quality of the human brain to a pedestal worthy almost of worship, even at the cost of, and much above, other values which may be more significant or important, is unhealthy to say the least.

I realize that all this ranting sounds rather presumptuous, especially because of the inherent assumption that I myself possess very high intelligence. While I wouldn't say that that's necessarily true, I do believe I'm smarter than the average 20 year old Indian girl. And I'm open to the possibility that that is mere illusion. Unfortunately, this belief had long ago transcended from an objective, empirical fact about myself open to challenge, to an internalized thought stubbornly etched in my mind. It's like marriage, you suspect that there's something wrong with that construct but it's close to impossible to overturn deeply ingrained beliefs that society holds about it.

In other news, Game of Thrones Season 3 starts on Sunday! Life will regain a smidgenny modicum of the excitement that it used to have, before Seervai, Baxi and Nariman readings took over. And it will be awesome.

Top 5 Things My Brother's Wedding Taught Me

#5 That, surprise surprise, I am capable of looking pretty.

#4 That weddings are fun! I'm already looking forward to the next family wedding. (July, come faster! :D)

#3 That those who find love are truly blessed.

#2 That no matter how much you hate, despise, abhor, absolutely loathe your family in certain moments, at the end of the day, they'll be the only ones sticking by and saying it's alright even if you got a little drunker than expected at your brother's Sangeet. It's important to love them back. You may not be able to control the house you were born in, but because you were, you CAN control the amount the others who live in that very house dance at weddings :)

And last, but most definitely not the least:
#1 That someday, this will happen to me as well. And maybe, just maybe, that's not so bad. 

It's Time to Break the Silence

My silence, that is. I'm not sure if anyone still reads this space anymore, and even if someone does, my opinions can't possibly be a matter of too much significance to them. But I want to do this for me. So even though this is a little belated, for whatever it's worth I'm putting it down in writing.

I first heard the news of the gangrape a few hours after it happened, from a friend. I wasn't angry. I wasn't outraged. I wasn't shocked. I smiled wryly and went on with my life, because you know what? That's India for you. No, not just Delhi, even though it's definitely the worst of the lot. But this is the country we live in. We kill our girl children when they haven't even been born yet, we kill them when they're infants, and if by some stroke of luck they survive, we marry them off early because it's their 'duty' to bear children when they're at their 'reproductive best'. We think it's only natural for husbands to rape their wives because once again, it's womanly 'duty' to provide sex to her husband. We consider it routine, not even worth mentioning, when drunken barely-men pass lewd remarks on women on the road, cop a feel in crowded buses or elevators, stalk or follow girls trying to walk home from work, or "even worse", a pub. And God forbid if anyone ever saw a woman walking with, let alone hugging or kissing a male friend. She had it coming then, she really did.
And if women are not safe on the streets, they're not safe in their homes either. Uncles stare, house guests ogle, and unless you happen to be one of the lucky ones, some day a man from your family, who you've been taught to trust ("because beta, family surpasses everything"), will come into your bedroom, sit on your bed and give you that sick feeling in your stomach. And in the next half hour, things you're not even old enough to understand will happen. Sometimes I'm just glad I live in a house where I know I'm safe, because I certainly don't know it out on the streets, even in broad daylight.

And let's not even get into what we can wear, what we can't, when we can step out of the house and before what time we must be home, who we can go out with, what we can do with them in public, where we can go and the million other restrictions that start with, "beta, I'm saying this for your own good." Do women not have an equal right to go out late at night with their heads held high? Can they not go to pubs without being deemed "loose" and "lacking moral character", while it's okay for men to do the same? Am I asking for rape because I went to watch a movie with my boyfriend? Is it impossible to survive in this country without obeying advice such as "you can't go out late if you haven't fixed up a ride home already. Your brother can though, he's not a girl. But it's not safe for you."? The other day, I caught myself crossing the road after I saw a bunch of young, slightly boisterous-seeming men approaching on the side I was walking on. It was dark and I was alone. I lowered my head and sped up a little bit. And what really bothered me about the whole thing was not that I did it, but that it was a completely subconscious act. THAT's the kind of CONSTANT fear Indian women must, and do, live in.

No, it's not about the law. No, it's not about punishment, or even police enforcement (although let's face it, those things aren't helping either). It's about the mindset. Capital punishment or chemical castration is not the solution. India has some of the strictest laws against rape. Their implementation may be flawed, to say the least, but it's not about that either, which is where I take issue with the people who say the problem is the ineffectiveness of legislation and police action. In India, rape and...associated acts, for want of a more concise phrase, are about establishing your dominance over the woman. Humiliating her, degrading her. It's a power play. Certainly surer and swifter punishment can only better the situation, but these are short-term solutions. Rape and violence against women might decrease because of them, but it'll be due to fear. Not out of any sense of genuine respect for women, which is what's truly lacking in our nation. Women are to BE suppressed. Women are to BE the weaker sex, and if they are not, they are to be made so. How else can one explain people WATCHING, as women get raped?! They make videos on their cellphones! No one calls the police. Men FUCKING WATCH.
That doesn't happen anywhere else.

And the mindset doesn't just manifest itself in such acts. Frankly I've made my peace with the fact that rape and molestation happen every twenty minutes. When you read something or hear of it again and again in the news, it stops shocking you or making an impact. What really bothers me is that if I stay in this country, the one day I get raped, it'll be MY fault. MY fault for wearing a skirt that was two inches above my knees, MY fault for staying in the bar until 11 pm, MY fault for going out with friends who happen to be males. And I'm basically ASKING to get raped if someone sees me drinking or if I happen to approach a random person on the street asking for a light or a cigarette, when I'm wearing JEANS no less! ("How can woman wear jeans?! Do they not want to be 'good traditional wives'? Raam raam!!"). 

I'm not saying rape doesn't happen in other countries. Just not with such fucking frequency, intensity and impunity.

Sometimes I think we're lucky that things like female foeticide and infanticide are so rampant in our country. At least those girls would never have to live in a world like this.

Misery loves company

The walls are closing in. Your sun is going down, turning your horizon from a fiery red into a bleak grey. The crushing sense of defeat weighs down on you, asphyxiating you, closing off your avenues. The future doesn't look so good anymore.

You were never good for anything, you realize. It was all lies, what they’d said. All of them. Big ol’ liars.

You've ruined everything. It was your fault. Every single time. Nothing else seems to matter anymore.

Failure is second nature to you. But you've just realized it.

Your world is crashing down around your ears. And all you can do is look on with a wry smile.

What Can't Be Said

The hunt is always more enjoyable.
Like a dog chasing a car; if it stopped, the dumb creature would just stand there, clueless.
All direction lost.

You're my shiny new object of attention, my latest model of car.
But it's been too long and you haven't stopped.
Why won't you stop?!

The moment you start wanting me back is the very moment I stop wanting you at all.
But for now you pull the wool over my eyes so effortlessly, I can't help but be drawn in.

Two weeks tops: that's all it takes
for them to give in, for me to get bored.
But I'm not bored yet.
And you won't get out of my mind.

It's worrying, this persistence.

We have no future; I've made certain that this is a pointless, futile exercise.
And we have no past either.
We never transgressed boundaries, never pushed envelopes.
But the lack of a present is what claws at me like a nagging insect,
itching just underneath my skin.

The tension is tangible.
The electricity is in the air, the air which grows thick with unsaid words.
Unaired desire.

So we'll always make jokes.
Pretend there's nothing more.
While you want lust and I want...more.

No, I don't want you.
I just want you to want me.
And I want that so badly it's shattering my peace of mind,
pure agony to hear again and again:
"It's okay, babe. I'm still single. For the most part. Let's fuck."
It breaks me, while I let you use me:
I'll take anything in the hopes of getting more.
And while I effortlessly feign indifference to you,
because that's what I've been taught to do.

Anger and grief are no strangers to me.
But these are new degrees of intensity.

They try to hide behind the smudged kohl and the fake smile,
as I've trained them to do.
But this time they threaten to burst out,
I'm barely holding my face together.
Myself together.

And I'll dress pretty everyday,
because hope springs eternal.
But no matter how many clothes I buy,
you'll always picture me naked.

Nothing less, nothing more.

The chase is a drug.
But I'm too high to enjoy the trip.

Leh 2012

So I went to Leh. Last minute plans work out so much better than actual, planned ones, don't you think?

I could use a dozen words to describe it but I'm sure someone else somewhere else has used those already. Yes, it was magical. Yes, it was picturesque. All in all, an awesome trip. But one of the reasons I love travel is because of the people one gets to meet. So today I'm going to write about one of the people I met in Leh.

Mr. P would be about 50 or 60 and has a shock of black-white hair. He's short and thin and rather benevolent looking. He has the kindest eyes I have ever seen (obscured by glasses) which crinkle up in the most endearing way when he smiles. He is a sort of resort owner cum travel agent in Leh. He's quite the self-made man. His resort was built on his ancestral land, in the traditional Ladakhi architectural style. After dinner he was nice enough to shows us around a bit and the place had lots of open room to sit in and open corridors to walk around in, leading via stairs to the rooms, and the whole resort was set in front of a village. He had accomplished all this only in the past 6 years, before which he was in Delhi working for a pharmaceutical company. His wife still stays in Delhi with his young daughter and his son studies in Singapore.

But the most interesting thing about Mr. P was what he had to say because I had never really considered that kind of viewpoint before. He said that if things continue the way they are, Ladakh will disappear in 50-60 years. This surprised me initially but it was obviously a well thought out assertion. He said that there are barely 30-40,000 people who live here all year round, the rest are migratory who go back during the harsh, cold winters when the region remains secluded by snow for a good 6 months. These are mainly Bihari laborers, shopkeepers who are Nepalese or Kashmiri etc. He says the Kashmiri will take over this region in the next 50 years, migrating here incessantly as Kashmir itself becomes more and more fraught with danger and hence uninhabitable for the common man. This will mean trouble. It'll bring insurgents and terrorists and so forth and the whole valley will essentially just go to shit taking its beauty and tranquility with it. The world can forget about holidaying in Ladakh then. And a day will come when the valley would no longer be able to sustain that kind of thing within it and will collapse completely. 

Unfortunately,  our choot of a government (and not just the current one, he meant this in more of a generic sense) is overtly concentrated on Kashmir, which can sustain itself anyway, because deliberating on it gives them an opportunity for politicking (wrt Pakistan and so forth, a country that is a ‘gone case’ anyway), something which Ladakh does not because it does not involve any dire elements. It is a serene, tranquil place completely overlooked by the government. Politicians only see their short term gain and are blind to the fact that the valley needs to be protected. By the time enough people realize this, it will be too late. This is why tourism needs to grow in Ladakh, so more and more people can understand this reality and discuss it and bring it out in the open and make something happen. For instance, once he had had a wealthy and influential Gujarati family staying at his resort. They had asked him what they could do for him in return for his gracious hospitality and he had said he would be grateful if they could tell someone in power to make Ladakh a UT or a separate State.

He doesn't understand why Ladakh is a part of JnK in the first place. He says the language, the people, the culture, the customs and everything, it's all totally different. He thinks making it a UT is the best and possibly the only way to protect it so that it's own issues are not overshadowed by Kashmir’s.

To me, Ladakh had always been just a pretty place with nice mountains and good weather. But to think of it this way blew my mind. I have immense respect for this man, not least because he lives separately from his wife and kids and still loves them immensely. 

P.S. Crazy dream #57: Fucking in the mountains.