fuck love

a blog on 'life' and other popular four letter words...

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Soak me No more

I don’t wanna be soaked no more..

When a foreign publication called our head an “underachiever” for seemingly legitimate reasons, we take it personally and in the name of jingoism, an Indian publisher in an outstanding display of opportunism, tit for tatted by labeling their premier with the same word – never mind that their stated reasons are not as sound.

[In its second term in power, the government under Manmohan Singh inherited an India that was stronger, brighter and simply raring to go. Then considered as one of the best performing countries in the world, today India is corrupt, paralyzed and directionless. Time magazine called our Prime Minister an underperformer due to his inaction. Outlook India responded by calling Obama an underperformer for reasons that will probably sell more copies of that issue, never mind that the inaction still continues.]

Soak me into this lethargy, please no more.

I don’t wanna be soaked no more..

Last year this time, a 74 year old man brought a 64 year old democracy to a standstill. One man channeled the frustration of a billion souls and sought to fight the faceless force that lurked in all our lives. We all rallied behind him like moths that thought they found the dawn of a new hope. This year, the lurking forces sniggered as this man stumbled, along with the hopes of a billion people.

[Anna Hazare heralded into our lives holding hope that we, the people, could finally do something about the burgeoning corruption that unfolds before us. After a spectacular show of force last year, this year the tables turned on us. Anna was forced to call off his fast leaving behind trust that was broken and taste that was bitter. Anna’s antics triggered copycat fasts by swamis whose intentions are not entirely noble. Politics won. We lost. Again.]

Soak me into this helplessness, please no more.

I don’t wanna be soaked no more..

Every time a Mary Kom or a Bindra takes national pride to the international podium, our sports babus momentarily salute them, talk about how heroic their rise was, award them with token cash prizes and then promptly forget all about them till the next contest takes place. A record six Olympic medals in our cricket crazy country?  It will be forgotten.

[ After their winning match against England, the World Kabbadi Cup winners were seen standing on the streets, with prize in their hand, waiting for public transport. Moreover, the game officials didn't even pay theire hotel bills on time leading to the embarrassment of the players and while checking out, these women were stopped by the hotel staff for nonpayment of their food bills. This, when people like Suresh Kalmadi still maintains himself innocent and attends international sporting events on public money.]

Soak me into this hypocrisy, please no more.

I don’t wanna be soaked no more..

The laws of the land treats different Indians differently.  If you’ve lost a mobile, it’s the harassment at the police station that’s more painful.  If you try to register a complaint, they’ll bull doze you into saying that it was not stolen but “misplaced” due to your negligence; they’ll never give you an FIR, which could compensate you, but instead register it a non cognizable offence. If you’re a woman, then my sympathies, If you don’t know the local language, God save you.

[After being acknowledged as the perpetuator of India’s biggest scam till date, A Raja is still a sitting Rajya Sabha MP.  The power minister, under whose watch India saw the world’s worst electricity blackout that rendered 600 million into darkness for two continuous days, got promoted to take care of our nation’s security as the new home minister; and this too at a time when the threat to the Indian homeland is at its highest.  In Kolkata, when aam junta asks concerned questions to the ruling party, they get arrested for it.  As I write this, hundreds of North Easterners - students, women, children, men, families- are leaving Bangalore in hordes fearing for their lives, due to SMSes and chain mails threatening them of attacks, sadly unconvinced of the state government's will or intent to protect them; that too, on the day we celebrate our freedom, safety and independence.  Whither justice?]                                                                                                                                             
Soak me into this lawlessness, please no more.

I don’t wanna be soaked no more..

When a teenage girl gets brutally groped and molested publicly by a mob of sex craved men or when fanatics attack a peaceful private Mangalorean birthday party celebration , they come up with and hide behind that age old excuse that painfully still works in India - that she was “dressed provocatively” or is not following “Indian culture”.

[In the name of “Indian tradition”, extremist vigilante groups attack, abuse and molest women who wear western attire, dare to go to parties or live on their own terms. The tacit approval by political groups and the insensitive handling by the relevant bodies empower these criminals and propagates this terror culture. After 65 years as the biggest democracy of the world, a woman’s modesty and freedom is today decided by the self-serving definition of "Indian culture" by politically backed, sex starved, fundamentalist thugs.  Does anyone really care for our women and their rights?]

Soak me into this moral policing, please no more.

Justice. Equality. Liberty. Fraternity. Independence. Freedom.

Frustration. Helplessness. Hopelessness. Fear.

Soak me in all this, please no more.

Written for the Surf Excel Matic #SoakNoMore Contest.

Monday, August 6, 2012

All you need is love

moi, in my fatter days, on marriage  :)

A successful pick-up-artist friend of mine told me that the perfect pickup line has to be curt, friendly yet border on rudeness, and most importantly, be distinctly different from what the recipient is used to.

Who even knew that there actually was a science to the art of the pickup??!!!

And that’s exactly my point.

India is in the news, baby – we’re there slowly hitting the right notes in sports, making our presence felt in business, and we’ve always been a silent force in art – there are increasingly lesser number of areas which has not been hued by our tricolor.

But there is still an area where our collective report card as a nation is still in the red – and that’s the l’art de l’amour, or the art of love.

Let’s face it – we Indian men suck at the dating game. The world’s greatest lovers are considered to be French, Italian, Latino or Espaniol. Indians, by the way, are not even there in the reckoning. And that’s so sad, man.. I mean, there was a time when we were known as the guys who gave the world the Kamasutra,  the dudes who gave Romance it’s greatest living monument (‘via Agra’ was the coolest thing in romance until they dropped the space between it) – and we could sooo be the guys who could show the world how it is done; but instead, today we’re getting known for complaining about women wearing clothes that are against “our culture”, those stupid annual V Day atrocities and other such incidents created by men who clearly aren’t getting any.

Where the hell did we go wrong?

Now I agree with a lot of people who say that men have historically assumed an inherent sense of superiority over women–men brought home the bread and women took care of the house – and it kinda worked well for centuries. But now, things are changing - women around the world have started donning the role of the bread winner and are proving that they can do whatever we men can, with equal finesse, if not better. And while most of the west have already acknowledged and accepted this development, in India we still have not accepted this reality – there are still a majority of Indian men who try to suppress women back to their earlier roles, hammering them sometimes with brute force, or mostly with words like “patriarchy” , “tradition” and “Indian culture”. Personally, I think the root cause of the Guwahati incident is this misplaced sense of male superiority.

And there is a social phenomenon that propagates this misplaced superiority complex to further generations - Ladies and Gentlemen, say hello to the arranged marriage!

Fundamentally the yesteryear concept of arranged marriage is reeking with male superiority – in many cases, women have to prostrate themselves in front of prospective men and their parents for acceptance and then dowry away their worlds to fit into the guy’s life, dancing to the tune of inane things like horoscope, birth charts and planetary positions. Then they walk into their new worlds to a lot of expectations and demands, most of which are put forth by the parents.  Pati is the parameshwar, while the patni is supposed to be pliant, rather than partner – not exactly the perfect breeding ground for romance, you’ll agree.

Now imagine if he had to get his girl without the arranged marriage, which for starters is the way Mother Nature intended it to be, as evidenced in the animal world.  Since brute force lost its appeal a long time ago, men will have to use charm, guile and wit to woo and win women.  Like the western world, dating will become an accepted prerequisite to marriage.  Love would be the only way to get married and people would know what they’re marrying into. Things like dowry, family honor and profiles on shaadi.com would cease to be driving forces, replaced by things like the 3second rule (the least time to make the first move) compatibility and being 'mad bout each other'.  

It’s not that arranged marriages don’t work – nay, I’ve got tons of friends who still get their marriages(and love) arranged for themselves and I guess it’s working out pretty well for them.  I’m just saying it’s about time we get rid of it – it’s one of those yesteryear concepts that does not belong to the new age networked world.   Love marriages are better – for one thing, the guy does not sit on his butt and get spoon fed to the most important relationship of his life – instead he schemes for it, fights for it and earns it.  And in the process, the Indian man will finally get practice in romance to stand alongside other men of the world that have made their worthy mark in love.  And maybe, with time, he could comprehend the subtle science that teaches him that the perfect pickup line actually is curt, friendly yet borderline rude, and distinctly different from what its recipient is used to.

This world deserves a better class of Indian men – it’s high time we give it to them!

Love, anyone?

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