Showing posts with label women. Show all posts
Showing posts with label women. Show all posts

Sunday, August 23, 2015

morning (un)run, malormed social vertical

i had signed up to a run, that was to happen this morning. i was out there, too, only that i took the road less traveled (or less guided) and parted from the group outside the stadia where it started from. got bored. it felt revulsive to go on after the first km and beyond the turnpike. not very sporty of me, is it. but then the sport, which i enjoy on a regular basis, needs to be seen as a sporty endorsement both by its sponsor and its participants. okay, in less abstract terms, and to brief, i felt lousy after finding out that bib names didn't matter - i wanted to run to 'borat' listening to 'borat' while 'curled' like 'borat', which is what i had registered under 'borat sagdiyev'. so much for my hat-trick of pushing borat in world registers. the tee as the free giveaway took away crowd 'qualia'.

but it was a wiser-in-retrospect calculation. the rains must've turned the run to be a literal 'dampener'. they had a short warning spell right as i left out to the stadia, then held on till the time i took off and got back home, then came down as a heavy downpour. i don't hate them, but i'm over the initial experience of run-in-the-rains. i don't enjoy delhi when it rains, because running through it becomes an experience of splashing not just water on oneself. delhi is dreamier with sunrises, or with precipitation as fog.
i wanted to run back home along the railway tracks but it would've meant getting home with all diseases of delhi and dying a bit sooner than thought (will have to increase my consumption of peanut butter, which is already at peak levels) {digress: expecting parenthesis to auto-fold in Blogger, a habit from ST}

so that 15k expectation from the morning was reduced to around 5k. between choosing the phone out taking pictures, to out on the run, the latter dominated, but turned to be a short experience. hazaron khwaishein chhod ke wapas aa gaye.
but, to fall back on the psyche instead of physique,

Be glad for the song that has no ending.

got back home to start reading on all the fucked up stuff pertaining to 'women'. it was the google news homepage that asked me to consume (awareness or consumption, what makes a better source, or what makes a better behavior, one could argue later, as i mite?) and constitute myself of the image of my own nation having screwed up situation of understanding women's rights right from the domestic to the political level.
in india, domestic could be perceived as behaviors when no eyes are on you. and political means behavior when all eyes are on you. its further distressing to see that such things have creeped to the judicial level, which should be above the political but-lamentably-isn't, and shouldn't give a hoot about how many eyes are on it.
and then we'll have the annually-recurrent milestones when we look back and evaluate and go 'wtf' for a day and regress back into being the people who will seem hypocrites in surveys.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

The Lady in Blue

C, you did it. You aren't D, anymore. You now have the distinction of being among my seducers. Not that it really was an act of seduction, or the appropriate setting for it, or the intended mood graph (against a time axis).

You shouldn't have come. You shouldn't have stayed. You shouldn't have stepped back out of your car. You shouldn't have come back running. And you - as hell sure - shouldn't have reciprocated.

Let me restate - consciously or subconsciously - I do not see you that way. All we are is just - to quote Pink Floyd (whom you don't seem to appreciate) - 'two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl'; two ramblers going in opposite directions running into each other. I feel trapped in "the web" of words we weaved that night, words from under our blankets - though you are the one originally afraid of spiders and webs.

PS: You look ridiculous draped in blue

Monday, July 02, 2012

Sweat and Sambhar and Ana


An hour and a half earlier, is when I had a bath, but it looks like I just walked out from one. (Yes, I know, surprising, isn't it? - me and bath...) The Indian summer wrenches the body, and once the pores open up there's no looking back - you better be prepared for a humid being, despite the air conditioned environs. [tropical ~= sweaty] Being a biker, I could feel short of the car guys; but I know from experience from many a soggy rides inside those moving greenhouses, that they don't have it perfect either - and its all the more infuriating, coz a carowner knows that they could not aspire for more. I so miss the hills, all the more today, when I'm forced to step out into a landscape I detest and forced to work in a century I loathe.

Yesterday I got a taste of my own medicine - long time back, when after a pint too many, I'd demanded Y to make me bread, only to later ignore the exclusive meal and drift into sleep - when, on a quick run to Supreme's, Y made me go out of the way to this overpopulated South Indian resto and get him stuff, me returning with an abundance of food good for a whole volleyball team, only for him to walk out on a trifling excuse. And it was as if he could further divine my embarrassment - when my sloppy ways in his absence saw a river of 'Sambhar' sprouting from its abundant polyethylene glacier and changing the geography of my kitchen - I had the Gangetic floodplains right there in my kitchen - only that to substitute water was the dal, to substitute the silt deposit were the spices, and to substitute the boulders were the vegetable chunks. It was an inconvenient affair cleaning up the mess. Well played, Sir, well played.

Now Y is also putting up pictures of my soon-to-be-fiancée Ana Ivanovic for the world to ogle at, and hence expand the competition pool (which is intimidating, not for the competition, but that it will add a temporal offset to my conquest). Well, played, Sir, again. You are really after my life.

Monday, December 19, 2011

thistle bee ace

what the fuck do i do
what the fuck do i do
my head
hurts

my anger doesnt subside
i am trapped in my body with these feelings
it affects my whole life
it affects how i approach love

makes me want to react
to feel
to yell
to get mad
am i crazy? should i be locked up?
what do i do? i am dying out here.

and now i am back
i have remnants left
and i dont care
- i mean i say i dont
but i probably will

i don't know what i will do.
i just feel so unloved right now
which is weird, right?
everytime i have opened up
i end up on the ground
worse. i end up messed up.
i end up alone.
i am spent
i have nothing to give to anyone
seriously
life seems like an effort
sometimes
i can't take it anymore. dont you get it?


Someone told me: "There is truth in everything, even in error."
That's true. France didn't see it in the seventeenth century. They thought one could avoid error; and what's more, that one could live directly in the truth; It isn't possible; Hence Kant, Hegel, German philosophy: to bring us back to life; and make us see that we must pass through error to arrive at the truth.

What do you think about love?
The body had to come into it. Leibnitz introduced the contingent. Contingent truths and necessary truths make up life. German philosophy showed us that; in life, one thinks with the servitudes and errors of life; One must manage with that, that's true.

Shouldn't love be the only truth?
- For that, love would always have to be true

Do you know anyone who knows at once what he loves?
No. When you're twenty you don't know. All you know are bits and pieces, you make arbitrary choices. Your "I love" is an impure affair. But to be completely at one with what you love, you need maturity. That means searching. This is the truth of life. That's why love is a solution, on condition that it is true.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Thus Spake Baba Damdama

"Give me, woman, thy little truth!"
"Thou goest to women? Do not forget thy whip!"

I can picture at least 6 faces in Indian media who regularly come and talk on the talk shows talking a lot more at the usage of the above lines, that come from a 19th century classic ("Thus Spake Zarathustra", by Fakir W Nietzsche). Yes, Nietzsche (hereafter referred to as N) was known to be a misogynist. Its nothing surprising, though, his perspective has been a recurrent one through history and cultures. There's always the occasional ruffle in media over incubation-chamber analogy of the female specia. My (narrow) anthropological finds, though, make me believe that the modern society (American?) seems a little better - see how Maroon 5 and James Blunt can change the world for the good!

Some other great anti-pickup lines from the same chapter:
: Everything in woman is a riddle, and everything in woman hath one solution—it is called pregnancy.
: Two different things wanteth the true man: danger and diversion. Therefore wanteth he woman, as the most dangerous plaything.
: Man shall be trained for war, and woman for the recreation of the warrior: all else is folly.

I pretty much LOLd at every line word up there.

What makes me even more fascinated with this perspective of N is its resonance with that of holy men across the holy Himalayan circuit (as much of it that i've seen i.e. Hardwar, Rishikesh, Kedarnath). Nothing better to start with drawing parallels than how the book starts:
When Zarathustra was thirty years old, he left his home and the lake of his home, and went into the mountains. There he enjoyed his spirit and solitude, and for ten years did not weary of it.

That makes N your average Baba Damdama (Baba = holy man) that you find sprawling all over the lower Himalayan tract. They (holy men) have little veneration for anything but their own philosophy, much like Zarathustra. They are filled to the cup with misogynistic takes on anything concerning the...uh...gyne. They make the male species seem like some divine mutation, out-of-line with regular evolution.

But those folks and my old roomie aside, we have good faith that the leading generations will not think likewise.
That is because soon after independence, Jawaharlal Nehru commissioned a scientific study to put an end to this woman-vs-man debate once and for all...
The average woman was found to have an IQ of 3 pigeons. The average man was comparably smarter, about 5 pigeons.* Don't be surprised - pigeons are smart and were considered appropriate benchmark at that time.

This performance - which makes 'venerate' a synonym to 'torture' - is no reason to make any gender generalisation.

* In marital union, however, their (man-woman's) combined IQ surprisingly reflected a huge drop, to an average of 1/2 a pigeon. This fact of an average Indian pigeon outsmarting an average Indian couple, is why pigeon was denied the status of national bird. The Peacock was chosen (though later studies proved that even the Peacock outsmarted the average Indian couple, it was too late to retract the Peacock, as our handicraft industry had already put this bird on over 1,80,000 export items - as the reader should know, that handicrafts lobby is very strong here in India, only next to the mixing-blood-in-ketchup lobby).

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Sunidhi Chauhan


The week before, we had the Android-based Notion Ink Adam hands-on at CES, which totally rocked and now sets this India-based startup as a challenger to the iPad - like none other in its competition.
The day before we had Astronomers discover a supermassive black hole in a nearby dwarf galaxy which they claim will shed light on black holes and galaxies.

Then yesterday, it was as if the entire Universe collapsed into a single function. Sunidhi Chauhan was seen in flesh and bones at the Oberoi, which sent this guy into a frenzy, them having made out in one of his dreams, and her being a prominent character in a few others.

Later, to much surprise, she went in for Paranormal Activity 2 - same as us - with her balding boyfriend. The movie being a less subtle and less frightening affair than the last; most eyes were occasionally meandering to Sunidhi's direction. Had I been the Mathematics Man, I would've applied a Fourier Transform on the boyfriend, given Sunidhi an infinite series to solve, and carried her away by the time he could apply a Reverse Fourier Transform.

Thursday, April 01, 2010

Old horses

Knowledge refresher
Sridevi: 1963
Hema Malini: 1948
Rekha: 1951

It is startling to find that Sridevi is, in fact, not far from our modern-day bollywood badshahs. What's also startling is Hema Malini looking fab beyond 60. And Zeenat Aman, at 59, still conveys relics of her amazing appeal. It must be hard to keep looking awesome for two generations or more!