Cowards, To Thee I Say...

I am a girl, a daughter, a woman, a professional, a secular individual, an Indian and a global citizen.

In each of my roles, I have my own unique set of responsibilities. I have different dreams. I aim for different goals. I demand my different rights.

As a girl, I am responsible for taking care of myself. As a girl, I want to be happy and dream of living the perfect life in a fairy tale.

As a daughter, I am responsible for the happiness and comfort of my parents. As a daughter, I aim to keep my parents satisfied and proud of me even while living life independent of their pressures and ambitions. I have the right to be loved and criticised for who I am and not for my gender.

As a woman, I am responsible for being fair but not unsoft in my dealings with the world. As a woman, I aim to use my female instincts to dust off unwarranted and undeserved males while preening for the one I want. As a woman, I have the right to live life on my own terms and not on terms dictated by the dominant force at a given time and place. As a woman, I demand my right of choice. As a woman, I demand a country and a world where future generations are still left with a world viable and strong enough for their share of foibles and follies.

As a professional, I am responsible for delivering on my job. And then, a little more. As a professional, I aim to touch the loftiest star in my skies while keeping my integrity alive. As a professional, I demand that I be identified by my work and not by my gender.

As a secular individual, I am responsible for understanding my religion and the other person’s religion. Short of that, I am responsible for acting maturely and fairly and acquaint myself with ‘perspective’. As a secular individual, I dream of a world where religions remain personal quirks like favourite brands of toothpaste and not badges of identity. As a secular individual, I am demand that as I do not judge others by their religion, let them not judge me by mine; that I be given the right to live and grow and see my generations thrive in a land undiluted by hate mongered in the name of Gods.

As an Indian, I am responsible for understanding the complex honeycomb concept of India and never dismissing my nation’s achievements and shames and missed buses in catchphrases of the moment. As an Indian, I dream of a world where India is known and seen by the world through the prism of who she is and not in terms of who she inks a deal with. I dream of an India where equal opportunity exists for people of all caste, religion, ethnicity, region and sex; and I aim to not be dismissive of the still births faced on the journey towards being that India.

As an Indian, I demand the right to not be hijacked by other people’s war in my own land. As an Indian, I demand the right to not be held hostage to the whims and moneys of jobless and idle satans. As an Indian, I demand that my country be acknowledged for her strengths and may no Indian or non-Indian tarnish that with gratuitous exposition on her scabs.

As a global citizen, I am responsible for understanding the uniqueness of the world we inhabit – the fascinating rainbow of skin and eye colours, of thoughts and beliefs, of faiths and rituals, of tribes and races, of soils and life. As a global citizen, I am responsible to be not selfish enough to pawn the future of this world. I aim for a world where citizens will not be identified by their colour of skin or length of their clothes. I aim for a world whose people understand the value of this earth we inhabit and who realise that only in togetherness shall we survive and prosper.

As a global citizen, I demand that personal quibbles be solved over a cuppa in a coffee house and not in gunbattles. As a global citizen, I demand that politicians and leaders in all garbs think of countless voiceless me’s in this world before embarking on violent carthages rather than just thinking of their own personal I’s.

As a girl, a daughter, a woman, a professional, a secular individual, an Indian and a global citizen, I demand the right to reclaim my space. I demand that my country be returned to me, for jobless thoughtless cowards have no right to wreck the fabric in the weaving of which they had no hand and dried no sweat.

As a girl, a daughter, a woman, a professional, a secular individual, an Indian and a global citizen, I say to all ye cowards now – Take your fight somewhere else. This country has stood by you for 60 years and when it chastised you for bleeding her, you turn on her like your age old enemy. You have no honour. My country and her people pride themselves in being honourable. Yes, we have had great moments of shame. Yes, we have made inerasable mistakes in judgement. But if we cannot sit across a table and talk, then you do not deserve to hear ‘fair trial’.

A frustrated and despairing person’s curse be on all you cowards: “May you all rot in your special Hell.”

Akin to my mother's vintage pickle...

A Chris Rock nugget:

You know the world is going crazy when the best rapper is a white guy, the best golfer is a black guy, the tallest guy in the NBA is Chinese, the Swiss hold the America's Cup, France is accusing the U.S. of arrogance, Germany doesn't want to go to war, and the three most powerful men in America are named 'Bush', 'Dick', and 'Colon'.

The Beginning (2)

The mazes run round him in circles with the colours flying off them in whirlpools. He can see a slip of paper swirling in their midst. He knows instinctively that he must get to that paper. He doesn’t know why he must get it but that it is important he does.

He can hardly see anything but he is single-minded and he will try as long as necessary to get that.

There must be some force somewhere looking kindly upon him for the swirling whirlpools subtly change direction towards him.

He extends out his arm and reaches into the elemental blizzard playing havoc around him…when all of a sudden the vision in front of him blurs and he feels a sudden sense of vertigo. Jolted, he tries to anchor himself to his desperate need…but the swirls are getting out of his control fast.

He tries to hold on but there is nothing to moor him and he can feel the salt taste of dread and frustration on his lips. With it, comes another sound – it has a warm brown aura and he turns his face into the voice for solace.

“Shashi! Wake up!”

The voice comes from over his left shoulder which is being held in a firm grip to gently shake him awake.

He blinks open his eyes to orient himself. He is lying tucked into the divan at the base of the far window in the hotel room. He is still wearing the slacks and a blue button down shirt from yesterday…Enough to tell him that he fell asleep worrying and fearing for his young family. He rubs sleep from his eyes and sits up pressing both hands to his temple as he finds himself waking up with a headache.

------------------------------------ <3 <3 <3 -----------------------------------

Sunshine and Sunflowers

So, it was a memorable day: An awesome morning, meeting two very nice people for the first time, trepidation and happiness warring equally with each other, an intimate and informal setting, a deliciously simple spread followed by an evening of joyful abandon.

Ah...such abandon. Have you ever stealthily splurged on delicious creamy chocolate ice-cream and had to surreptitiously lick your lips and fingers to hide the evidence from approaching footsteps?

Ah then...you will understand the aura of teenage giggles that seemed to embrace us yesterday evening. The pecks on the cheek in the semi darkness, the whispers of 'so all roads have led us here', the elevating feeling of togetherness, the weight of apprehension gone...

After almost six years - of being in various places across the country and having played various roles in this relationship - this is the time for a new role, for another beginning...

We have revelled and rejoiced in every turn that we have travelled down. And Joy, it has been a wonderful journey so far: equal parts stroll, saunter gallop, linger, nuzzle and dance entwined.

And the gamesome stallion that you are - you will face some heat from this filly when next we cross paths untill the paths shall twine and merge.

I cannot help but...
Everywhere I look, I see warm sunshine across the land and bobbing sunflowers as far as the eye can see.

Phah...

Scrambled brain pickled in the brine of sourpussery incremental of a wretched mindfuck.

*HEROES - Take A Bow*

Prop 8: Civil society? What civil society?

Steven Colbert's heartfelt comment on the passage of Proposition 8 in California.



The state of California in the US has passed Proposition 8 which amended the state Constitution to restrict the definition of marriage to a union between a man and a woman. Under this, people of same sex cannot get married.

It overrode a recent California Supreme Court decision that had recognized same-sex marriage in California as a fundamental right.

There is uncertainty over the status of already existing same sex marriages. While some legal experts believe these will be preserved, others think they could be overruled and declared illegal.

I can only imagine what I will feel if a government suit were to walk into my house one happy evening and say that my marriage is nullified because because my spouse looks/behaves differently and has different (read: own) opinions on everything and because these discomfit other people?

No. I will not allow it. As long as my ways of life and living do not kill and maim people and destroy property, I will demand to exercise my rights. Because I do my duties. And more.

Especially as I live in a country, which like the US, offers civil freedom of expression and who I love and marry is an expression of my persona.

A fascinating point: About 70% of Blacks and 60% Latinos voted for Prop 8 while 53% of Whites and Asians opposed it. Illuminating that communities who would know a thing or two about segregation would vote for segregation.

From an Indian perspective, the Prop 8 is fascinating because here in my country - homosexuals are punishable by law because of a 100-year-old edict.

The Beginning

"Where are they?"

"They were waiting for the connecting flight to New York in Johannesburg." "We will bring them home."

A bitter laugh. "The very words I said six years ago."

"And you kept them, didnt you?"

The voice catches. "I did nothing then. It was all you."

"Then I will do it again. You know that."

"I trust you."

"I always keep your trust."

Strangled laugh. "You get enough opportunities."

Low voice. "We couldnt know." "God, none of us thought..."

"We have known this. Always." A hard grip on the other's wrist. A voice hoarse. "I want them."

"It is obvious that we have lived a sham. We built the destiny that we are living today. Word for word. Act for act." A hand on broken-hearted shoulders. "Maybe what we created for ourselves is not the destiny meant for us. If so, we will write another, if we have to. And we will make it worthwhile."

"Will they...what if..."

"They will come. Even if we all do what we gave word against doing."

"I cannot think."

"Leave it to us. Leave this to me, to us."

The couch sags under the weight of the shattered heart. Red-rimmed eyes but still with enough pride to stay dry.

The one standing clips open a cell. One word into it: "Shark"

An inhaled breath on the other end of the line. "Eagle" and the line snaps.

A grim smile.

A-line

I listened once and heard no more

Beyond

I see you. Your rich caramel skin. Your white smile. Your sleek limbs. The innocent sensuous way you move.

I see you. Your gentle touch. Your acknowledging eyes. Your snarky wit. Your ready laughter. The way you lean into my space. Unknowingly.

I see you. Your flickering eyes sneaking a look at me over the wine glass. Looking at me in the glassed interior. Following my movements with subtle shifts of your body.

You do not see the hairs at the back of my neck stand up. You do not feel the rush of blood down my spine.

I see you. The way you smile at me a second longer than usual. How you always face me wherever you are in the room. How you manouvre conversations to speak to me about the poetry in weaving words. How you hand me the napkin before the thought has formed in my head. How you ask me if I wanted another helping before I reach out for it myself. How you speak to me and not at me.

I see you. How careful you are to soothe my ego in entertaining discussions and how you do not hold back during intense political debates. I see the respect you hold for me in your no-holds-barred arguments.

I see me. In the answering smile you draw, in the reflexive thanking touch that I extend, in the warmth of my eyes on seeing you across the room, in the gut twisting emotions you let loose in me with a slight twist of your lips.

We speak the language of tingling tension between our spaces, of crackling chemistry in fleeting glances, of knowledge of being for each other and of understanding that we can never be.

Except in the happenings beyond the dark curtain of eyelashes or in that rolling fertile expanse where stallions cavort and race with the sun on gleaming backs for a taste of green freedom.

Whee!!!ful Day :D

I am officially 30 years old today. And I think I have just had the crackiest, most happy, most wonderful and most delicious birthday ever.

The second part of the day, especially, saw me wearing a perpetual smile :D

*Shoutout to Joy* - I may be able to interest you in a certain video ;) very soon.

Thanks for the shower of sparkles and sprinkles...