On being skinny

People never stop reminding me how skinny I am. Often it’s the first thing they say when they meet me. That’s brand new information ma’am, thank you. People often assume that I don’t eat and offer me to stay and eat with them for a month or two in the name of goodwill. They sound very concerned as if making me fat is the only way to stop global warming. They sound very confident as if eating with them is miraculously going to change the way my body functions. I hesitate to go for lunch/dinner with such people because they are quick to point out – Look how little you eat! That’s why you are so thin! Here have some more. And more. And more. Because this one gigantic hugely uncomfortable dinner can obviously do what 9125 dinners in my life so far couldn’t.

Some people go on to suggest that I would look so much better if I just start eating bananas and milk every morning. Thank you for pointing out I am ugly. Some people ask me if I go to the gym. Some people ask why I should go to the gym at all (as I obviously don’t need to do). Some people say that they are jealous of how I don’t ever have to worry about my weight. Such a blessing, they are quick to add, you can eat whatever you want and still not gain a gram? Wish I was like you! Being like me means being called a skeleton, a coat hanger, a feather, and a stick figure. Some people also like to call me two dimensional. Some people assume I am sick and weak. I have grown up with these wonderful tags. Not just random strangers, my own family has used them for me.

But skinny girls don’t talk about being skinny because if they do, they are a bitch.

People with an average sense of humour remind me that I might disappear soon. People who once aspired to be doctors but ended up being dentists call me ‘malnourished’. Some people defend me by throwing terms like ‘high metabolism’. I don’t quite understand that and I am sure neither do they. Some people recommend I should take protein. I recommend they should fuck off. Some people think I should be a model. I think they should not be career counsellors. People who want to show off their above-average vocabulary call me ‘anorexic’. I want to show off my creative vocabulary and call them dumbtards.

For twenty five years, I have listened to the same shit wondering what the hell is wrong with my body. And God knows how long this is going to continue.

Listen buddy, I have tried eating more. It doesn’t work. Bananas give me headaches. Artificial protein is exactly what it is – artificial. Being skinny is not a blessing. And yes, I am underweight. I KNOW THAT. But did you notice that I am functioning fine? Hey! I am happy. I don’t get why you are so bothered. So instead of criticizing me why don’t you appreciate your own beautiful three-dimensional body, and get a fucking life. Comprenez?

Sex, Orgasm, Atoms and the Universe

“I bet you get a lot of action.” I winked at her expecting her vibrant blush. Instead she replied as if it was a matter-of-fact, “True. It’s like a habit now. I can’t even remember when it all started. You know, I can’t even count my ex-boyfriends anymore,” she chuckled. “Wow. That many?” I replied.  “Yes and there are those guilty flings as well.” How could she say things like that in such a casual manner? I looked around ensuring that nobody was overhearing our conversation. The café was practically empty and the sole waiter was busy ogling at this girl who was sitting on a faraway corner. “Wow! So, with so many options what’s been your best experience so far?” I asked her teasingly.

“Sexually?”

“Uh-huh…”

“Hmm…Let me think”, she thought for a moment and resumed excitedly, “So there was this time; the best night of my life. In fact that night changed my life.  And I am not exaggerating. Ugh! That orgasm! That orgasm surpassed anything I had ever felt. It was more amazing than amazing, you know! I mean you cannot just call it amazing. It was beautiful beyond imagination.” She looked at my face and tried to ease my confusion, “Let me try to elaborate…What’s the smallest thing that you can think of? A dust particle? Now, they tell you that your smallest thing is nothing compared to atoms. In fact a dust particle houses thousands of atoms. You nod. You are like okay. But can you really imagine that? That something as small as a dust can house thousands of even smaller particles! But they don’t stop there. Atoms have further smaller particles! What the fuck! But wait, this doesn’t stop here even! Atom’s smaller particles have further smaller particles. These things blow my mind. I can’t imagine it. I can’t go beyond the bloody dust particle. For me, that is atom.”

I sat mystified by how my question about sex had her discussing about quantum physics. As if knowing exactly what I was thinking, she added, “Worry no more. Here comes the analogy. We take facts for what they are even when we can’t see it, even when we can’t imagine it. That night…that night I could finally imagine the unimaginable. I could finally magnify that scale. I could finally see beyond the dust. Until then orgasm had just been this supposedly amazing thing. Then it became the amazing thing. It stopped being the dust; it went on to become the atoms, the protons, the neutrons, the quarks.”

I was finding it a bit hard to digest the analogy but she continued anyway, “Okay, I will leave physics out of this. I will tell you the best part – that night, I laughed like a mad man. I know it’s weird and it has never happened to me before and since – but I was indeed laughing so hard and this spasm, this colossal spasm simultaneously traversed across my body. And it coupled with my laughter in such a way that the waves resonated, you know. So, the amplitude got even higher! I climaxed along with my cheek muscles, my weird chuckling voice, my lips, my stomach movements – you know, how your stomach moves when you laugh, my heart beats – my laughing heartbeats! It went on for a long time.” She paused and closed her eyes for a moment as if savoring the memory and continued, “But it wasn’t the end of it. I came again. And again. And again. And again. I exploded like a big bang. Pieces of me scattered all over me like the pieces of universe. Never before had I witnessed something so beautifully shattering. I was ready to die with that explosion and it felt as if my life was complete. And in that moment it really was. Nothing could match the emotions I felt then. Happiness, hope, love. Love – one of the rare times when I actually felt it. I cannot describe the intensity. I fell in love with myself then. It was madness! My orgasm ricocheted not just across my loins, it was the origin of it, yes, but it traveled all the way up and down; from my head to my toe. To my navel, to my chest, to my heart, to my thoughts, to my dreams, to my self-esteem. It traveled to those realms as well! Can you believe that? Those were not merely repeated convulsions! Those were much powerful than that!  I had no idea that I had the capability to feel that way. And you know how the astronomers say how there are traces of big bang still spread across our universe? Like that I have traces of that night spread across me still. Often it invokes in me a feeling of longing. And I often wonder what if I never experience something like that again. But I am okay with that. I mean I would love it if I could go a level up too and explore further but I am not going to pressurize anyone or myself. Most of the amazing things happen just once in our lives, like this day right here, that’s what makes it more special. Doesn’t it? So, I am okay with this separation and linearity as well.  The memories mostly inspire me. They tell me that I am worth being sunk in those gigantic waves. That I am worth witnessing that power. That I am worth feeling that way. I deserve nothing less. It’s ironic – this statement. But it keeps my spirit high and makes me respect myself more. Ah, that night though! That night – it was infinity. It was the circle of life. It was subatomic particle. It was the eternity of universe.”

“Boy!” I muttered as I sat enraptured imagining what I couldn’t possibly imagine. ‘Atoms’, you know, as someone would like to call it. But I kind of wished that she had explained the whole scenario from the beginning and not just the end point. So, I added quietly hoping that she’d address my remote but yet influential perverseness as well by giving a few insights on how to traverse and find the road whose destination was so magical, “The guy, the guy that you slept with that night, MUST have been really good.”

“Absolutely! Except that there wasn’t one.”

***

Feminism; The bullshit – III

I

II

III

And it hurts!
Her
And you too
Hearing about feminism again and again!
The very sound of the word is such a pain!
“You aren’t treated wrong, dear girls!
What exactly are the problems that you’re facing?
Apart from periods
And men ogling at you
And the fact you don’t get to roam a lot at night
But are all these really worth this much fight?
Sure, we understand you can’t wear everything you want
But still, hasn’t this been met with too many of your taunts?
And what about the times when you get your things done
When you break our hearts,
When you manipulate us,
Emotionally rape us
All those jokes on wives
Well, they were based on our lives!
And you! You as mothers are extolled everywhere
The one figure about whom the whole universe has always cared
And now you have reservations in all premier institutes!
And yet here you are! So destitute?”

It’s a shame how we haven’t grabbed your buttocks in a crowded bus,
And you haven’t felt the joy of simply ignoring us,
It’s a shame that you don’t make it to the headlines
If you stay at your workplace beyond deadlines,
So, women have been respected as mothers, it seems.
And yet, we’ve refrained her from pursuing her dreams
we don’t let her continue her studies
Not even till a matriculation degree
And sure job has always been out of scope
Since for independence she shouldn’t ever hope
Either that
Or she must be a superwoman
Breaking all forms of dependency
Shuttling between job and home
Handling it both with godlike proficiency
Women after all, must do it all
And men, meanwhile, can laze around
Since women are precious and women are strong
And they don’t need anyone to support them along
So, with a monthly credit in the “joint” account
We, as children should also be her priorities
We, as husbands should also be her priorities
We as her parents, We as her in-laws
We must impose on her our own set of clause,
So, she mustn’t think about herself!
No!
Never at all!
That would be absolute selfishness
It’s bullshit!
When we say women aren’t equally treated!
If not equal, we treat them better!
We worship them as goddesses for fuck sake!
We send our daughters to school,
We set on her no rules,
(Just a little fire in absence of dowry)
And yes she might have to come home a little early,
She might not do everything she desires,
But a little sacrifice
Is a part of her life!
And we have asked her to accept the world outside,
Ready to masturbate at her very first sight
That, my friend, is so acceptable
It’s just her act of exploring her basic rights that is wrong
And single women everywhere are just screaming for sex, aren’t they?
So, when you see men visiting her, she must be sleeping with them.
Hence, don’t let her find a home in a new city
The whole society will turn impure with her mere proximity
And then it’s bullshit!
The word consent.
You are not entitled for it if she is your wife
You are not entitled for it if she is NOT your wife
It pains to have a vagina
Literally
Metaphorically
But then it’s still a bullshit
The blood every month
The cramps every month
The way you have learnt and seen
How it’s right “to just stick it in”
And how she would immediately moan in ecstasy
Well, she wouldn’t!
She would scream in pain.
And you must take it for “asking for it” again.
Consent.
What does it even mean?
Why does it even matter?
It’s matter of a few minutes, right?
A small fraction of an otherwise uneventful night
Sure she can handle it!
Women after all can tolerate.
Men can’t.
SO, she better not tells you what to do
And what not to
Violation of which, by the way, is a perfectly good reason for you to insult her
To physically assault her
And during that she must adhere to silence
As a perfect wife, she must also tolerate domestic violence
And somehow it’s still always the women who must be judged
Even when she charges money for your lust
Even when she doesn’t
Even when she wants it
Even when she doesn’t
But then women are precious.
And so we always teach them to be cautious.
At the time when her breasts begin to grow
She was told to walk a bit slow
And even before the puberty embarked
She was taught to bear with the derogatory remarks
It’s just a part of her life
Ignore, don’t provoke!
You don’t know what events your protest might invoke
It’s right for the criminal to live a guilt-free life
And she,despite her innocence, may contemplate committing suicide
But then of course, women are treated well.
If not equally, then better.
They aren’t destitute, just a little bit confused
About how they have continuously been taught,
that as women, they need to tolerate a lot,
Because that’s what have got us all impressed
In any circumstance, they must always stay suppressed.
And so what if it might have got her a bit hurt,
To stay comparable to filth and dirt!
She, after all, can live with that!
Because even she knows it is indeed a fact –
The important one that keeps our misogyny intact;
The notion of women as equal beings is simply outrageous,
Because women, after all, are just too precious.

***

Author’s little note: This poem has been written as a part of The Bullshit trilogy. which contains other similar articles namely – The Bra strap & The Blood stain.

Feminism; The bullshit – II

I

II

It hurts!
Not you
Just a bit of her reputation
She must be practically illiterate
Given the fact that she is so glamorous
The fact that she may be smarter than you are
Is worth some applause
and a lot of thought
Because beauty with brains is such a rare combination
Women are not wired that way usually
Women can be conveniently stupid and conveniently “wise”
And perpetually something to objectify
She is only good at mugging up the facts
Or applying eyeliner
Or being hairless
Or gossiping
And even if she isn’t into any of these,
She is still just meant to be pretty and to please,
Because who would marry her otherwise?
So, let’s be a little more concerned about our size
And a bit cautious about how we mustn’t stay unmarried after twenty-five
Also, let’s invest some money in the parlors and the cosmetics
One, after all, must always give priority to aesthetics
Be careful though, one shouldn’t to be too attractive
Otherwise “Asking for it” will be your new adjective.
It hurts!
Not you, just a bit of her reputation,
If she asks you to help her,
Or to borrow your books or your notes,
Talks with you politely or share some anecdotes,
She is either using you
Or hitting on you
Anyway if you tell her that you love her
And if she says she doesn’t love you back
Then you must think hard
About the reason why she was even interacting with you.
Because that’s obviously not what classmates do!
Or colleagues do!
Or neighbors do!
You loved her.
But she didn’t love you back.
So, now she qualifies for an acid attack.
Might have been too harsh, mate?
But hasn’t she been the worse to you?
Sure it burns!
Her face less
And your ego more
Women, just as dumb and a show piece, are fine.
Women, at any cost, mustn’t opine.
Her smartness and intelligence should mostly be fictitious
And that kind of women are always precious.

**

III

Author’s little note: This poem has been written as a part of The Bullshit trilogy. which contains other similar articles namely – The Bra strap & The Blood stain.

Feminism; The bullshit – I

I

It hurts,
Just a bit of her reputation
When you see her socializing, it’s obviously flirtation
When you say she was seen going to the boss’s cabin too often
When she was seen laughing a little more than she should have
Some say they even saw them holding hands
And from the way she smiles, what else can one understand!
He is married,
What kind of woman is she?
He is married,
What kind of man is he?
But this is the question you wouldn’t ask,
Oh yeah! It’s a shame
On his part too
But men are entitled to be assholes!
But women?
No, they must act like women!
They must maintain their dignity.
They are precious, after all.
Haven’t we praised her to the suns and moons!
To the flowers of Spring and first rains of June
All the couplets in the world – all dedicated to her!
The smell of the flowers! The murmuring river!
Even the bouquet of stars isn’t what she deserves,
So obviously, shouldn’t she be preserved?
With a burkha?
With a ghunghat?
Who knows what that beautiful face can do to men!
Men will be men
They can’t stop doing their sinless and shameless acts
SO, it’s women who must sacrifice
Because yes, women are wise!
But only in the kitchen
Not at office
where you don’t give her the raise she deserves
since she is just a part of diversity seat she reserves
And what after she gets married?
And decides to relocate?
What if she gets pregnant?
And decides to take a break?
Giving birth is no joke
But the promotion over maternity leave is.
But this isn’t discrimination!
Just deluded incrimination!
From what I see, it’s completely fair.
That’s how it is everywhere.
So you see, we do treat her all righteous
After all, slightly less capable – women are precious.

*

II

III

Author’s little note: This poem has been written as a part of The Bullshit trilogy. which contains other similar articles namely – The Bra strap & The Blood stain.

Eve Teasers; The noble people.

Let’s not get started with women and woman empowerment stuff. That is not important.

You know what is important? What is simply indispensable?  These people; the ones I am going to talk about. The noble people. The sons of gods. The extra-ordinary. The cosmic. The colossal. Let me uncover the invisible pieces of their exquisite non-existent mind before you;

 

Part-1: Delayed image processing.

It’s not like that we like to stare. We don’t. There are other things in our lives too. Like–

…..

…..

…..

Okay, we don’t. But that is not the point, the point is that the main culprit here is the image processing system in our heads.

See, how can you expect us to make sense out of the images we see with our exceptionally dysfunctional brains? We have to feed the information in our impeccably slow brains for long long time and then and only then the meaning is decoded and delivered to us. We are not able to make sense out of this delivered message even but that is not we are talking about here. Our point is; We stare because we don’t have any other choice. We are handicapped. Please understand that.

Secondly, since we were raised in sewers we never got to know who females were.So, when we came to the ground it was unbelievable!There is something called  woman? What? Since when?

 

Part-2: Limited vocabulary.

The reason that we stick to whistling or “Hey! sweetie!” or “Hi! darling!”  is that we don’t know any other words. For having a good vocabulary in any language, you gotta be smart or average or even a little below average. But there is no scope for null IQ anywhere.

It doesn’t matter though. Why do you need a vocabulary? Why do you need any kind of IQ? Or education for that matter? It’s useless! It’s just absurd!

Given a chance we would bring the literacy rate of the country down to zero. There is no use. All the guys in the world need to go out on the streets with their bikes and have fun with girls walking around. Come on! Man! THAT IS LIFE! THAT IS ADVENTURE!

 

Part-3; Who are females?

Err… The thing with the hair and the breasts and the butts, we guess?

wearethealiens

Part-4: The eternal entertaining element.

This bollywood, TV serials, Novels ( Wait. What are novels?)etc, etc is not entertainment. It’s nothing compare to what we do.

When we whistle at the girl passing by or throw chits at her or call her names or comment on her, follow her and make her life a living hell , that is the moment when we feel that ultimate thrill.  That irritated look on her face and Oh! What it does to us! Amazing! Man! Amazing!

We will tell you a secret- We know from the empty head of ours that behind that irritation and anger , she is blushing. That tears in her eyes are of joy. Inside she is going stark raven mad with happiness.  It’s so obvious. Our dysfunctional brains are never wrong in detecting these inner truths.

 

Part-5; Stalking.

You are in love with this girl! You have got to know her don’t you? Yes, she doesn’t love you  ( or so she says). She has yelled at you, spat at you and told you to just fuck off but does that mean anything?

Absolutely fucking not.

That, my friend, is the beginning of the chase. That is the beginning of your love story!

 

Part-6; Handling criticism.

Yeah, well, people are just jealous.

You know how they get.

Roaming on bikes on the street all day and ‘entertaining’ our selves- that is our purpose. We- Doing any sensible work that could help in building the economy of the country? GOD FORBID!

We are not going to waste our precious time on anything like that.

What we do is a high profile life. Even Harvard graduates dream of that.

People can say whatever fuck they want but we are no ordinary people. We are assholes. The assholes. And they are just, like we said, jealous.

 

Part-7; The fears and insecurity.

We express our selfless love to them and they just reject us. Outright. Just like that. That is rude.

That’s depressing.

It’s an insult. A blow to our self respect.

Gotcha! Self respect?  What the hell is that? Screw “self” what the hell is Respect?

Never mind. We are not interested in knowing anyway.

 

Part-8; Future plans.

We plan to have some kids though we have been strongly advised not to procreate. Why you ask?

Our genes are so exceptional, so explosive, so good that world might be in a threat of too much goodness. Our progeny will carry this threat with them. So we have a choice of to be or not to be a hero.

We don’t know. We are still confused. We want some kids but then we need a wife for that.

Even though  we are one of a kind, our proposals have been turned down over and over. Finding a wife is difficult. These women, we treat them with dignity and this is how they pay us back!

As of now, we don’t have any future plans, We might end up being the hero, who knows?

Part-9; How does it feel to be a huge liability.

What’s liability?

 

Well, in the end, I have to mention that people I am ….

proud

And you guys are worth some applause.

proud

 

proud2