I am not saying

Blogging after ages, at one fifty eight AM , i do not want to be typically negative. I have a presentation tomorrow and I stole ideas from it from my recent trip to Kashmir. I have to promote a state as a tourist destination. Using all my photographs to make pretty slides, I am trivializing , hiding reality because my aim is to promote. I am not mentioning how the military man posted to sand with a gun on a certain spot near the Dal lake, all day , everyday, said 'There is no such thing as safety in Srinagar. Anyone may shoot anytime. I've learnt to accept I may die any moment.' I am not saying how there were attacks on th Mughal gardens when I was there or that we cold count the number of tourists with our fingers as groups of shikaras floated, lonely on the Dal lake. That the people think the conflict is manufactured by politicians, fueled by the media and they are merely caught in between , only wanting to make a living driving taxis, rowing shikaras for tourists who are rare now. They only want peace in their homeland, to be able to trust people again. I cannot say that while a military men is friendly to me and we chat for almost half an hour, he suddenly says that I might have a gun in my pocket and he does not trust me .I am not mentioning that a friend was molested in Gulmarg when she was skiing on the higher slopes. She was told not to complain to the 'Indian girls'.
I am saying some truths like that Kashmir is so incredibly beautiful . I am not saying how much it troubled me to be there in a bubble, as a tourist who takes and leaves. It makes me think that this is the type of journalism I don't want to do.
I am typing badly I know will do grammar check tom. Because I am typing in a dark room ok so forgive.
I

Kashmir

Rootlessness

Well, I don't know where to start. I am sitting here and all around me my house of about two years (incidentally, the longest I've ever lived in one place in remembarable memory) is in a mess. I am moving houses. I am feeling scattered , slightly scared about what I am going to be doing after i graduate in a few months. I have just been living in a daze partying too much, sleeping too little and not thinking .
That's fun but I want to shake myself up and figure out. I wish it was like school where after 7th std , you just go to 8th. I actually don't wish that.

I feel sad that whenever I settle down I suddenly pack up , tear all ties and leave. Again, I get bored of things easily, even places so I guess it's OK. Apart from my boarding school I don't think I felt a sense of belonging to any place than this little part of Jayanagar in Bangalore. Where I know all the auto drivers and they know I have french at 7 AM and have to go to Lalbagh Double Road Gate to be picked up by a friend at 7pm and college at 8:52, hurry up I need the 9AM attendance. I can take back change for five hundred bucks later from them. Where I can run to shoppers stop and pick up a sweater before a trip, and maggi noodles for dinner down the road. Where I can find my way back perfectly even if a tad too tipsy at 11:30 . I'll now have to start over with my new house and of course from wherever the hell I am going to go next year.

Oh and also..
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Third month no smoking mark
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Rootlessness

Well, I don't know where to start. I am sitting here and all around me my house of about two years (incidentally, the longest I've ever lived in one place in remembarable memory) is in a mess. I am moving houses. I am feeling scattered , slightly scared about what I am going to be doing after i graduate in a few months. I have just been living in a daze partying too much, sleeping too little and not thinking .
That's fun but I want to shake myself up and figure out. I wish it was like school where after 7th std , you just go to 8th. I actually don't wish that.

I feel sad that whenever I settle down I suddenly pack up , tear all ties and leave. Again, I get bored of things easily, even places so I guess it's OK. Apart from my boarding school I don't think I felt a sense of belonging to any place than this little part of Jayanagar in Bangalore. Where I know all the auto drivers and they know I have french at 7 AM and have to go to Lalbagh Double Road Gate to be picked up by a friend at 7pm and college at 8:52, hurry up I need the 9AM attendance. I can take back change for five hundred bucks later from them. Where I can run to shoppers stop and pick up a sweater before a trip, and maggi noodles for dinner down the road. Where I can find my way back perfectly even if a tad too tipsy at 11:30 . I'll now have to start over with my new house and of course from wherever the hell I am going to go next year.

Oh and also..
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Third month no smoking mark
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The thought of Goa always comes accompanied with stubborn clichés. The sea, the laidbackness, the raves, freedom, colour, the joie de vivre of people determined to let go and just be.

In the Arpora Saturday night market, I was caught up in all that when I suddenly hear some screams. A group of bouncers scream’ KILL HIM, bastard, kill him’. A small scrawny dark man was being dragged violently on the ground and taken outside the gates where he would presumably be ‘taken care of’. Everybody around just stopped and watched. I heard snatches of conversation in a sort of hodgepodge of new accents.

‘Yeah I heard these sort of fights are common this part of the world’ and everything else to that effect.

That scene disturbed me. It tainted the energetic sort of rhapsody of the place. He might have been a pickpocket but it scared me how people could have so much violence in them. That’s not the only thing however which scared me.
My friend kept pointing to people and remarking how they were so out of place in the scene. People like punju aunties, men in dhotis watching in amazement at the foreign trance like rendition of Sanskrit slokhas, Goan locals.
I noticed too how they stood out amidst the typical goan tourist crowd that dominated the place. Who are we to say however that they are out of place?

N was telling me about the ‘Malleshwaram type’ of Hindus who are scandalized by women in sleeveless tops. The Hindu community in Goa is not so prominently represented on these tourist brochures where the now much commercialized carnival, Christmas and the churches are important mentions. I wonder if in this entire attempt to market Goa to foreigners much of the Goan culture is unrepresented.

People sell things from all over the world in the flea market. I found this beautiful dress made of an old sari in a shop owned by a foreigner, I think an English woman. She said it cost one thousand three hundred bucks and I politely remarked that it was expensive.
She started one whole bitchy ramble ignoring our existence with another white woman.
‘Dude this is designer stuff that could fetch twenty times more in the Europe. I am sick of Indians complaining about the prices. It is SILK... And etc’ Fuck the bloody euro. To me it’s just a very sexy dress made out of old cheap silk saris that is not worth more than a hundred bucks.
My point is that how is it justified for foreigners to come to sell things only their kind can afford and sort of be blinkered to local sensibilities in every way . I wonder also if my argument is justified because in today’s world of blending cultural identities, who are we to say Goa belongs only to the locals? Is the software engineer from Delhi living in Bangalore less bangalorean than a Kannada teacher?
People from all over the world have made goa their home, permanent or temporary. How important is it for them to be accessible to the locals? Can they live within their seemingly impenetrable bubble of sand, sea, wealth and their essentially western lifestyle?
Terribly hungry, V and I decide to buy this tiny piece of strawberry cake which looked delicious. When I asked the local guy working in a firang stall, he said it was two hundred rupees for a piece and burst out laughing immediately as I did too. The prices were just bizarre.
Another thing which comes to mind is the exploitation of the relatively lax laws in India. The other Goa , an article is here.
(To be continued)

Here is an article on Mcleodganj on a similar topic that I wrote.

tis the season to be jolly fa la la la la la la la la

I was back from Goa on Tuesday night but am still hangovering from it! And the only useful thing I have done since then is attend about three classes in college and the usefulness of that is highly debatable.
Goa was wonderful ..I think I'll never come back from there satisfied. Though it was the tourist season and crowded it was amazing.I loved the Saturday night flea market especially coz of the diversity of people, the sheer energy and exuberance of the bands playing there and the festive mood. Ofcourse there is the joyous walk into a shack and order cheap delecious kings beer and be whatever the hell you want to be and wear whatever the hell you want to excitement and new years and all that..
I want to go back............

Oh while we were travelling ot Goa we played this song only once I think but its still stuck in my head. Me believes its embedded and singing in my subconcious


Oh show me the way to the next whiskey bar
Oh don't ask why
Oh don't ask why
Oh show me the way to the next whiskey bar

.................



I tell you we must die
I tell you
I tell you
I tell you we must die

pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa
I would post pretty pictures of swarms of exotic people in the coolest clothes, with dreadlocks, the sea, the beautiful architecture, GOA, blah but I didn't take my camera on the trip and what freedom it is once in a while to be free! To not worry about getting the best pictures , about it getting stolen etc.

Oh and while I was away some $#%@$%#$ #$%#$ (person, software? , ? ) did someting to my blog where the spam from my inbox was getting posted on my blog. If they have access to my spam folder they could post my mails as well. Freaky!!

Last night was V's birthday and we went to this beautiful( i need to go buy myself a vocabulary) place called fireflies. Arty type place ...eco friendly architecture, red oxide floors,stone walls, pillars from chettinad, real , organic non oily non masalafied food, bon fire, pansy alcohol and much fun was had.
You'll must go .How I'd like to run away for a bit somewhere like that , ead, write do my own thing and be relieved of brigade road/traffic/college/bangalore madness.
I know my post is one big mess.
bye

HELPPPPP

Does anyone know why this is happening to my blog??

I think I am off to Goa. I wasn't sure if it would work or not till now so yeah think I am going.

HAPPY NEW YEAR ALL!!

 

Tra la la la tra la la la la tra la tra laa

Dum Dum Dum Dum
















tra la la la la la la la la la la



















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The one month no smoking mark
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(Though I still don't know which adults read this blog I am tired of nicotinous and intoxicant censorship, please to be understanding. besides this is pressurizing myself to stick to it. Not for komal twacha or komal lungs but simply to challenge myself. :)

I am sorry I can't help having a right arm

I just went down the road from my house today to get change, sleepy , in a skirt and spaghetti. This woman saw me and said something to the effect of ' Shameless,vulgar,blasphemy'..I don't know exactly what but judging from her tone and facial expression -that.

I was so disheartened. Because of years of patriarchy blah blah it has become an unquestioned thing that women have to be apologetic about their body. People who I think are rational in every other aspect of life still don't find that weird.

R was saying that day that she hates stoles and dupattas because they are modesty garments. It is bizzare though isn't it that from the dupatta to the hijab , garments have evolved to shroud women's bodies and somewhat asexualize them.

I am not however saying that it is compulsory for supposedly progressive women to go about wearing as little as possible. The opposite stereotype also is true.For instance if I turn up in this extremely loose kurta I'd be said to look like a cow/old whatever.!

Also what is feminine or 'chicky' would automatically be associated with being 'ditsy' or blonde or whatever. That is because it is stereotypically feminine and hence that is dumb??!

Why ? It's just as simple about whatever you are comfortable with isn;t it. It is seemingly trivial but reflects a lot about societal attitudes.My maid always instructs me to not even go to the corner shop showing extra bits of arm or leg!

Now to talk about blank noise

What really is the point of randomly hanging out at the railings, being yourself, not fiddling about with your phone or bag but just standing around coz you want to.

It is so empowering to reverse the gaze, be unapologetic about yourself and that feeling transcends into daily life.

Once you've overcome physically shrouding your body 'protecting' yourself with your elbows and stoles when you navigate through crowded streets, I supposse you begin to shed the mental inhibitions too and start questioning gender stereotypes with more confidence.



One night at about 12. R and I walked into this really shady tea place called Kohinoor where they were shocked to see women so late at night confidently walking in. I really wouldn't have done that two years ago unless we had guys with us or something .

A bunch of women walking around in the middle of the night is not exactly sanity as many of our self appointed male protectors told us on our night walk.

Male spaces and times are so rigidly defined that to rebel against it is regarded as bizarre naivete.

'It's not practical yaar, night time , you know Bangalore na?'

Spaces like shady bars are so restricted to males and women would be labelled if they went to one of those.
I am also more confident about shedding euphemisms even if it means risking the wrath of my maybe fundamentalist male chauvinistic university exam corrector.

--




Photos from the blank noise blog

'War is Menstruation Envy.'

Hungry Kya?

I totally totally have to tell you 'll about this awesome site called www.hungrybangalore.com.
It has a database of all the restaurants in bangalore that deliver home , listed area wise, along with the menus.All you have to do is add whatever you want to your cart and they call you in five minutes and confirm your order and then bring you your food.
Awesome no? These are times when I feel like being in love with the modern world.

add words tise ments

I love being a substitute
I love my commute to work.
I love the company.
I love missing the last bus home.

Duh!
So Sony erricson plays with the sentiments of its target market-the corporate world? - plays with the sordidness of an urban life .


With the samsung blah blah phone, you can live two lives at once. Do two things at once. On an exoticised boat in Kerala AND in a board meeting. Helping an old wrinkly woman sleep on a dirty crowded bus and ..
In the inch of target audience that I am.
Be a travel writer and earn like an investment banker.
Be a trekker and not sink your youth in the flat foreboding screen of the computer.(caffeine aided,air conditioned)+perks ***

'I always wanted to quit on Monday Mornings.'
RECLAIM your damn life man with some bloody car.
even if all you can do is chug chug your car through traffic adventures.
'But I swear that monday morning husky voice sticks in my head whenever I am loaded with work and want to run off to some godforsaken part of myanmar.


But , honey , real life is not being advertisement.
real life sucks slightly more
and those bastards know that.

copywriter me become?

picture caption: Underexposed pictures of hot monks in coorg that i took even as the boat i was on was speeding away. And am not the only one guilty of finding them hot! What connection the pic may have to this post is open to postmodernist/Freudian intepretation. ANd i cant seem to upload it so later ok?
Im getting better at writing crap, I know.

To sell or not to sell?

Things that make me forget that I am a wannabe saver of the world and tempt me to sell my soul to a corporate job.


nice shoes,TRAVEL,alcohol and its cousins,food,ridiculously expensive clothes that I want to buy anyway,
Europe-( ah, well the idea of it, I've never been there), cover charge,
books-beautiful big ones with wowwwwwwwwwwwwwww photographs,books,
cameras and lenses!
SILVER jewellery,
an AC,


Antiques of all kinds
gadgets
pretty much a lot.
A semester before college ends,career confusion remains constant.

haven't slept a wink for some twenty six hours.And all sorts of Hydroxide molecules float around in my blood.

Everything in my mind seems to have deconstructed itself from conditioned , accepted norms.

When the cop says we're making a big deal out of 'normal girl boy teasing', I want to spit at this simplistic bloody view of life.

And I hand some woman one of the blogathon testimonials and she rushes back to me an hour later, finds me amidst the oppressive Brigade Road crowd, Today littered with the shocking presence of girls just leaning over the railing..

Some conversion pamphlet that says God loves me. Umm sorry religion doesn't work for me. All religions have some absolutely beautiful wonderful things about them. They ALLlack something somewhere , have gone utterly preciously ,ruining humanity type wrong with sometings and perhaps, perhaps , they all have most core ideas in common.
They just evolved to give humanity a feeling of security . Thus they varied in places acrss the world.

yeah so this woman felt bad for me that i handed an eve teasing testimonial? and tried to convert me?

Update:

Still haven't slept much. Having nightmares of a little ghost girl called Barbara.
Sylvia Plath- it's her fault- I've been reading too much.

Umm yeah thaats all, spelling grammer mistakes included

You are wanted

Savita: age 22 - I was walking down the road. Unknown hands 'accidentally' brushed against my crotch. Time 9 pm.

Mohini: age 25 - A stranger man in his rubbed his erect genitals on me. Time 3 pm.

Farah: age 16- I shouted at a man who was making sounds and looking at my breasts and the public started laughing at me. Time 12 30 pm

Sujata: age 13- I was waiting for my mother to pick me up after school. A man in a car stopped "How much for an hour?" Time 1 30 pm

Pinky: age 11- I was taking the bus to tutions. A hand up the back of my skirt. I was numbed. Time 4 pm

Sonal: age 13 - On the scooter with Appa. Two boys pinched my breasts as they speed by on their bikes. Time 8 20pm

Piya: age 27 2 men above the age of 50 passed comments about my breasts. I spat at them and hit them with my chappal. Time 5 pm

Niti:age 18. an unknown groped my breast and disappeared in the crowd. The hand is yet to be identified. Time 3 pm

Jaysree: age 19. I was walking home and a guy in a car tried to pull me inside.
Time 6 pm

Garima: age 16 was stalked for 1 hour and had to hide in a phone booth. Time: 7 pm

Laxmi: age 37 I was constantly 'accidentally' elbowed in my breasts by a man in front of me. Time: 4 pm

Alka: age 9 A man I don't know whistled at me when I was going to school. My mother did not let me go to school that day. Time 8 .05 am

Nupur: age 32 I was waiting for the bus. 4 cars with men stopped by and asked me to come with them. Time 8 15 pm

Radha: age 50 I was enjoying my daily morning walk until I saw a van kept following me and asking, how much? Time 7 am

Priya: age 17 He held me from the back and tried to drag me into a lane. I bit him and ran away. Time: 6 45 pm.

Meetu: age 7 was getting inside an auto. A man put his hand between my legs.
I am speaking about it after 20 years. Time 5 pm

Gayatri: age 53 I was getting inside a bus. A man put his hand between my legs. I reacted. I slapped him hard. The public also joined in. Time 6 pm

Anusree :age 21 Man on a bicycle rode past and spat on me. Time 6 35 pm.

Mansi: age 17 Anonymous man kept mumbling, whispering that he wanted to 'fuck me'. Time. 4 45 pm.

Sushma: age 31 A man squeezed my breasts hard and disappeared. Time. 9 pm

And you?


Who we are, where we go, what we wear, how we sit, stand, talk, walk in our very own cities. When we demand the need to make our cities non threatening , I don't expect anyone to think of me as their sister or mother, but to really look at women as citizens who have every right to be out on the streets, without any explanation. Sometimes we just love to walk, stand around, hang around, without looking 'available.'

We experience eve teasing, a sexual violation on an everyday basis but we ignore it, by justifying it as 'normal'. The impact of 'eve-teasing' on the victim is often discounted when it is popularly perceived as a joke or a prank. Blank noise feels that this is also damaging and has severe long term consequences on the mental health of most women. Blank noise seeks to enable women to reclaim their space. The idea is to form a collective, confront the issue by raising more questions, deny denial and heal. Blank Noise works with people through performance, blogging, and street interventions.

Blank Noise Project Bangalore calls for women/ girls/ ladies/ of all ages, languages, colour, and shape to be participate in a street intervention on Sunday Nov 12th. Venue: Brigade Road. By participating you will be celebrated as a BNP Action Hero.

We guarantee that this performative action won't ask you to be acrobatic, but to be yourself, and experience the site you act upon transform. Be the stimuli, be an action hero.

Confirm /ask us questions at 98868 40612. This street intervention will be approximately 1.5 hours

I've been instructed to blog and the only ting I feel like saying is in memory of all the plans I've cancelled because it's too late to enjoy an evening without worrying about being raped, robbed, hurt in anyway on the way back.

The Afghan Women

Come ok?
This Friday, 27th Oct , 7 PM , Good Sheperd's Auditorium , Brigade Road

'You are just another invader. You think you bring us a wonderful gift. You call it freedom. Free from God. Free from family. Free from all restrictions.'


'There is a yearning for a day when one person will be as good as another.When laws, not men , will rule us'.


'You live in another Afghanistan'.

To quit or not to quit

is not a question anymore..


You know things. Ofcourse you do.


But do you know that exact feeling when you realize what you've known all along and completely feel and understand it?
Wait, don't go away.. I will explain.
You use polythene bags all the time. One moment in a high school chemistry class you realized that the notorious thin material is made of ethene. Poly ethene. Many ethene molecules.
And your like oh yeaaah!

Or hmm.. more examples? Tell me.

Today I realized what it really means to be completely unfazed by constant discouragement, criticism . How to do your thing and to not give up when it is expected that you will.
I am a sucker for discouragement. I bend , break and QUIT. Stupid as it might sound , I've never really felt the urge to carry on when it becomes untakable.I move on and then feel overburdened by the load of half done QUITS. Invisibly haunting me and following me tainting other paths.
It 's a precious thing to have that tiny pocket of confidence within me though it might be a tad too late in my life. Like duh! it is. To rely on that little stream of confidence .


Today I felt that exact feeling.