Friday, March 24, 2017

Why I am afraid of men in religious garb

Because you should be afraid of them. There are enough instances to prove that all men, more so any man can be dangerous, as far as my identity as a woman is concerned. But combine that with religious fanatical certitude and you have yourself a bald, pugnacious rapist in the offing. Don't for a moment think my self assured zealots that fanatics ever stop at the first point of their agenda. They will come for us once all the minorities have been annhilated. So yes you elite upper class Brahmin ladies talking about how people just hate taking up the 'Hindu Cause', they will come for the freedom of your daughters. We all are situated somewhere, higher or lower in this pecking order of subjugation.



Monday, March 20, 2017

The Chronicles of Lady D

When Lady D was not yet 15, her esteemed father decided to uproot his family from their rustic but spacious house to a more urbane locale where his daughters might do better for themselves. Lady D had looked forward to this moment hoping that a young gentleman would respond to her arrival with a similar sentiment to Mrs Bennet's happy pronouncement of 'Netherfield Park being let at last.' Many a tale she wove imagining handsome young strapping men to make eyes at. Literature had taught her that her anomalous position would elevate her in the eyes of the neighbouring young boys by the sheer virtue of novelty.

How her heart broke when not only were there no handsome gentlemen of her age anywhere around her new residence, but the plague of a feminine antithesis as a close neighbour descended on her as well. Lady Ursula defied the banalities of her Disney defiled name by being the  most beautiful, sophisticated and ethereal form of teenage feminity.

This author can confirm that apart from that one moment of childish coquettishness when Lady D attempted to feign interest in a cute dog to court the favour of a handsome gent, there have never been any sightings of handsome men in that area. That particular phantom of handsomeness, Lady D reminisces was just that - a phantom. He was never seen again and neither was his dog who went by the most unoriginal moniker of 'Dash' for a dashound.

It seems quite plausible to understand given this dystopian novel level of the dashing of Lady D's hopes for feality that within six months of moving to her new house, her ovaries started their cycle of intermittent strikes.  Lady D's body, mind and soul were attempting to compensate the torrid war level lack of suitable young men. 

Sunday, March 5, 2017

On Lena Dunham

I am continuously intrigued and repulsed by Lena Dunham.  When I read her book and watched Tiny Furniture, I could feel the angst and urgency that most wannabe writers attach to 'life experience'. As someone who harbored aspirations to write, I am acutely aware now that my rules and safety valves have left me with  no life experience that could in any way make my writing at least a little bit ingenuous. It is sad of course and I think despite my awareness of the mediocrity of my talent, I had always hoped that my blustering confidence would allow me to fool atleast myself of the said mediocrity. However, growing up is hard and the more you know the more aware you are of how much you are not. I wish I could go back to the days when I was floored by how amazing I was despite trite concepts and bad spelling errors and incorrect grammar. It seems that all that triteness was better when compared to this constant self-reflexive self-flagellation.

Coming back to Lena Dunham though, I have always regarded her stories of sex dreams about her father with a certain middle class cringe-worthiness. But most times, I am floored by the dialogues in Girls - especially the finale of the fifth season.  You must be naked (which Hannah is quite literally in the show, and very often too) to create something if not original at least insightful.

I wish we could murder propriety and morality in the crib, so that mediocre but ambitious girls like me are not thwarted by their own life experiences or lack thereof - not to say that I would have been brilliant or ingenious otherwise, but at least I could have actively pursued the dream and failed.