I still am in the same state of mind that I was in when I posted last. It really is something which you continue to think about all the time....
This Wednesday was the festival of colours - HOLI. Celebrated throughout the country, by people of all religions, sects, classes but I doubt all sexes! Yes, Holi has slowly but surely moved out of the sphere of my life, and many of my fellowgirls'. It is rare that you find girls celebrating by playing with colours outside of a close knit circle of family and friends, atleast the ones blessed with common sense don't indulge in mass holi parties where the entire town comes to antoint each other with abundant colours.
My reasons for being wary of this festival are manifold. I hate the smell of the plastic paints, they give me an itchy rash and I am paranoid about having egg shells lodged in my eyes. (Yes, I know a family friend who was pelted with not just water balloon but raw eggs. An egg shell piece lodged in his eye ball and he had to be operated upon. I don't think Uncle can see very well with his left eye.) But more importantly, I don't fancy being groped by strangers. Or even "close" family friends for that matter. Sometimes, the coloured faces are unrecognizable and provide the perfect cover for these miscreants.
This year I have heard of two news stories that relate to holi-molestation. In one instance, it's blown up into a gang-war of sorts, and has resulted in rioting and picketing. And three deaths by police firing.
So what do people who want to wake up the next day and work towards living their full life term do? Well they stay at home and enjoy the holiday by watching people on TV paint the town red! (morbid? Well take it or leave it.)
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Liberated Women?
Sometimes while you surf the net, you come across a new piece of information, a site that tells you all you ever wanted to know about something, a blog that can express all you felt at some point, better than you ever can. Like this one:
Annie speaks.
Reading this one gave me the shivers, it took me back in time to the place where I was twelve or thirteen, walking across the row of shops that I had always walked across. Buying my school supplies from the same shop that I had bought from for years. Passing the same group of "loafers" I had just noticed laughing and teasing girls passing by only a few weeks back. I really didn't know much about eve teasing then, and when I felt my butt being grabbed, just for a split second I turned around, shocked and numbed. It was a strange feeling when there was nobody there. It almost, made me wonder if I had imagined it.
Sad? disgusting? sameful? I still feel like puking every time the memory comes back to me. Well read Annie's blog. It tells my story better. And probably yours too.
Blank Noise Project. Please speak up.
Annie speaks.
Reading this one gave me the shivers, it took me back in time to the place where I was twelve or thirteen, walking across the row of shops that I had always walked across. Buying my school supplies from the same shop that I had bought from for years. Passing the same group of "loafers" I had just noticed laughing and teasing girls passing by only a few weeks back. I really didn't know much about eve teasing then, and when I felt my butt being grabbed, just for a split second I turned around, shocked and numbed. It was a strange feeling when there was nobody there. It almost, made me wonder if I had imagined it.
Sad? disgusting? sameful? I still feel like puking every time the memory comes back to me. Well read Annie's blog. It tells my story better. And probably yours too.
Blank Noise Project. Please speak up.
Friday, March 03, 2006
Bumbling along through Life......
Yesterday was nice!
I had a good, interesting day after quite some time. Of course it had the usual mind-numbing regularity, but the irregular was what made it interesting. The infectious laughter that I so love to hear, the impulse buy, the little kitty starting up to recieve morsels of it's favourite food - fish!
On my journey back home, the small guy who sells 'gajras' hopping on to the train, the women gently teasing him to cut off a longer bit of his carefully (sparsely) woven strand of flowers. The running as fast as your legs would carry you to the rickshaw stand, because there will be only three of them at this time of the night.
Sometimes, when we least expect it, Life gives us a special day. It's for us to look at it as different,remember it, carry it on with us. Sometimes when you think life has come to a standstill and has become as predictable as can be,you realize that every day is important. Every day that I live, that I choose to live in a particular way, is what will build up to be my life. Life is all about moments, it's memory and hope of the good ones that keep you going even when the present moment might be the worst point in your life.
I want to be able to have these moments, all of them. The good ones, the quirky ones, the sad ones, the drop-into-a-hole embarrassing ones, the mad-enough-to-kill-someone ones! I hope I'm not being too ambitious.
I had a good, interesting day after quite some time. Of course it had the usual mind-numbing regularity, but the irregular was what made it interesting. The infectious laughter that I so love to hear, the impulse buy, the little kitty starting up to recieve morsels of it's favourite food - fish!
On my journey back home, the small guy who sells 'gajras' hopping on to the train, the women gently teasing him to cut off a longer bit of his carefully (sparsely) woven strand of flowers. The running as fast as your legs would carry you to the rickshaw stand, because there will be only three of them at this time of the night.
Sometimes, when we least expect it, Life gives us a special day. It's for us to look at it as different,remember it, carry it on with us. Sometimes when you think life has come to a standstill and has become as predictable as can be,you realize that every day is important. Every day that I live, that I choose to live in a particular way, is what will build up to be my life. Life is all about moments, it's memory and hope of the good ones that keep you going even when the present moment might be the worst point in your life.
I want to be able to have these moments, all of them. The good ones, the quirky ones, the sad ones, the drop-into-a-hole embarrassing ones, the mad-enough-to-kill-someone ones! I hope I'm not being too ambitious.
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