(No, not coz the festival of colors is here, and you need to watch out for sneaking eyes and peeking hands ready to douse you with rang and gulaal.... Best wishes for Holi, readers!)
Read this anonymous letter I found the other day.
Me frustrated. Me donno what to do. Me think I kill myself. Or I just die. I do no want to live. Nobody like me. Nobody need me. All think me bad person. Me care for people, people do no understand, people fight. Me get angry. Me hurt people. My life no good. Me no trouble no one still people no like me. Me brave and stubborn. Me also blunt and intelligent. So many say me good, me reach success, me capable. But me no happy. Me alone, me sad. I donno fault. How can all world be wrong? No. Me wrong. Me end life. Me got no guts, so me live on.
Interesting, eh? Especially the last line... Do you need guts to kill yourself, or do you need balls to survive?
I guess it’s that split second where you are so depressed and frustrated, that you muster all your valor to sacrifice your life. If that second passes, you’re never gona be able to do it again. So, in a way, death and life – both need courage. (Though of course, if anyone suicidal were to approach me, I’d say that suicide is for cowards, and one ought to live on to fight and overcome challenges.)
Eager to know your thoughts on this, friends and readers. And on the following points, too...
Like why a woman in power is subject to prejudice and contempt for no real reason. Why a divorced/widowed woman is looked down upon by society more critically than a male. Why a female who flirts and sleeps around is called a bitch, while a man doing the same is considered nothing abominable. Why when enjoying sex (which is logically and in reality the privilege of both genders), a woman is expected to be coy and her sole duty in bed is to satisfy her man, regardless of her own pleasures and needs. Why a woman who commits a crime evokes horror, while a man in her shoes gets the “chalta hai” gesture.
WHY??
Society assumes several things about a woman, and expects these assumptions to hold true whatever the case may be. Given the superior education, exposure, lifestyle, family and upbringing. How fair is this?? Who decided it to be this way? Why are we still falling prey to this bias? Is gender equality only a myth? True, the topmost positions in the world in all areas are held by men (and I congratulate them on that), but why cannot we tolerate vices in females, too?!!
We’re all human, right?!!!
Cheerio!
Probably your cell-phone, keys and wallet. And perhaps a jacket, coz it’s cold these days. And if you’re a woman, then add other paraphernalia like lipstick, moisturizer, compact, and so on and so forth.
I carry my jhola. What’s a jhola, you ask?
Ahem...
Leme try.
It’s a sling bag kinda thing that you wear on your shoulder. Something that initially journalists used to carry, and then it started coming in a variety of colors and artwork so it became a huge hit with the teenagers as well. While khadi dominated the scene then, now jholas are found in every style .
That was the easy part. Now comes the challenge. Describing what it means to me, and unfolding its contents and uses.
My jhola’s an extension of my personality. (Ya, I know I said this blog is also one of those. But you see, everything I do is very ME...) So, my jhola - I can’t live without it. Anywhere I go, my jhola goes with me. For the last 2+ years.
The market’s full of shops and boutiques that sell trendy ladies bags in all colors and sizes. I’m amazed at my Sister who recently returned from a shopping spree with a Dalmatian-shaded purse and huge black handbag! Eww... Not my type by a long shot...
Come to think of it, I cannot remember ever having been an out-and-out feminine creature at any point in my life. I have those few recollections when I have enjoyed getting decked up in finery for some occasions and celebrations (like my sister's wedding for instance, when jeans and tops were forsaken for heavy brocades and expensive silks). But otherwise, ask my friends and colleagues, and they’ll scratch their heads when asked to recall the last time I wore a Punjabi dress.
I’ve always been a tomboy. No nakhras-jhatkas for me. Right from my no-nonsense hairstyle to my clothes to my mannerisms. (That was the case until fairly recently. Then, God knows how and when and why, I changed my ways and started buying more lady-like dresses and acting more womanish. Grew my hair, started wearing earrings. Some crazy hormonal change, I guess... Anyway, I’m not complaining. And from what I can see, no one else is, either!)
But hey, weren’t we talking about my jhola?
Right, so my jhola is my inseparable possession. What’s in it? Well, not much. It holds my purse and keys, my lip-balm , Uhh... ya a pen at times, and that’s about it.
Oh! My cell-phone (how can I forget that?!) That’s all.
(That IS all, I said...)
The best part about carrying a jhola is that it’s trendy and practical at the same time. I can wear it diagonally as I walk fast to get someplace, and I can hold it fashionably by the side as I hang out at a coffee bar. When you’re lost among strangers, a jhola gives you the perfect excuse to dive in and search fervidly for nothing at all for a precious 5 minutes. And when you’re trying to act cool, you can finger the strap and just look around...
A jhola NEVER lets you down. Trust me.
The moment I put my hand in my jhola (just about 15 times an hour), you know I’m spinning in the abyss of mystery. On no account can I find what I want. If I’m looking for my cell, and if I’m searching for my keys, out peeps the lip- balm. It’s basically something like Ali Baba’s potli (did he have one? Or was it someone else? Whatever... I can dimly vision “Potli baba ki” flashing on DD = Doordarshan every Sunday morning. And remember “Gucche” and “Chitrahaar”? Good ol’ days!)
Uh huh... Ranting and digressing again... But the point is, that jhola’s the way to go. You can carry it to work and parties, and you can wear it on jeans and salwars. Jholas look good in pink and yellow. Girls at 10 and women at 40, jholas aren't a burden on the pocket, and neither on your shoulder. In short, I’ve thought it out, and I’ve given it the ISI mark, so go ahead and get one (if you don’t have one already). I think they look better on women, but you guys can get it for your girls and try them in fronta the mirror, just to see if they suit you... (Dunno much about metrosexual and other preferences. No offence.)
Having said that, I must say I just got a new jhola/bag ..Its my Valentine Gift and its so pretty :) Thank you Love !!
Have a good week, buddies!
Let me tell you first and foremost, being a woman ain’t easy...
We know what we want (at least 60% of the times), and we’re equally sure who we want it from. So, if I’m sad and I want Mr. X to come and give me solace, it won’t matter if Mr. W, Y and Z come and put their arms around me and buy me a million gifts and shower me with love, support and care. I am STILL going to miss Mr. X and his consolation. Of course, I am going to appreciate the others, and thank them for their help, but Mr. X, thou art doomed!!
Come to think of it, WHY do guys need to be told what to do? Just like we gauge their needs and understand their desires without them voicing it out loud, why can’t they also do the same? I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to try! There have been a lot of times when the guy himself did not know what he was confused or stressed about, and a girl eased his mind by being sympathetic and kind. We’re all humans, we all have the same range of feelings, and it’s really not that tough if we make an effort to comprehend and assist.
Most women I know would agree that telling/asking for something to be said/done is not quite the same as the thing being said/done instinctively and voluntarily. What’s the use you loving me if you do not grasp the fact that there are times when I just need to be heard and hugged without being shown a hundred ways that are better. I am aware of what I have to do and how, just be calm and empathic, you moron! That’s all I need from you!!
Guys around the world know they’re kids. They either stumble upon this realization by themselves, or they read it in the zillions of magazines and books that talk about gender differences and peculiarities of the sexes. So, whether they agree or not, they very well know that their primary needs are food, sex and sleep. And so do we. And we take care to see that their needs are met. Be it the mum who keeps snacks ready the moment the son comes home from college, or the wife who entertains the man by night despite being dog tired at work all day, or the girlfriend who doesn’t call her sleeping boyfriend for a few hours even though she wants to talk to him desperately.
Why then is it soooo difficult for the men to appreciate us? Why is it impossible for them to anticipate our wants and fulfill them? Why do they find us complicated when all we need is a listening ear and a warm shoulder? How can they expect their stupid jokes to make us laugh when our hearts are weighed down by some misery that we are unsure and unable to express without being asked? You maybe close to me, and you may not require a prologue to talk about your concerns, but I do. And what’s wrong with that?
Let me admit, I expect people who are close to me to know me and the things that please me or tick me off. So, anyone in their right sense of mind wouldn’t ditch me after planning to meet, and anyone who has faced the music after they did something unpleasant wouldn’t do it again. Yet, I want my loved one(s) to know when I’m upset or when something has hurt me. It could be something as small as not messaging me before you sleep, or not telling me when you’re ill or suffering other crises. It could be when you keep repeating the same mistake again and again despite knowing it irritates me. Or that you give others priority over me, when I’m the one whose always there when you’re in trouble. Get what I mean?
So yeah, I have those sort of conditions with people I like and love. I CANNOT love unconditionally. Nope, I cannot. I can’t be ok with every way you treat me and any way you behave with me. If I’m being civil and nice, it’s your obligation to be the same to me. And if that’s something that’s not within your control, then goodbye. And let that goodbye be forever. Not the “here now and gone then” types. The wound needs to heal so that someone else can come and give me the happiness that is not in your power to grant your sweetheart.
Movies like What Women Want are made and watched the world over. And yet men don’t understand that all we need is love. We’re ready to help you in understanding us, just show us that you are devoted and dedicated and (willingly) ready to make that effort. We know people don’t learn things in the womb, but we surely want folks to learn things that would endear them to us. Ask us what we want, if you’re unable to understand. But not before you have tried every other option.
Besides, we're such sentimental fools that we'll never tell you directly what we are thinking. I'm sure you've heard of this one - when we say "we're fine OR it's ok", it means "nothing is fine." And when we say, "just leave me alone OR go away", it indicates that "please don't go, just stay and show me you care." And when someone you know who needs you says "I hate you", it actually stands for "I love you helluva lot, but you hurt me too much".
You see, we want to show we're independent. Yet the fact remains that even the most practical women are emotional at heart. And there's no denying that. We often don't NEED you, but we WANT to be showed that we're loved and cherished.
Awrite so we crib and complain and nag, at times more regularly than sunrise and sunset... and what do you do? Start ignoring us! And how does that help? It only makes us more crabby and depressed. And the vicious cycle continues... Why not try something more constructive and positive?
Our needs are not as simple as sex, nor as tough as a Sudoku puzzle. Sometimes an ice cream can do the trick, at other times, you may have to be a little more tolerant and listen to us as we rant on and on about the boss who yelled at us, or the friend who lost her cat, or the junior who can’t make a decision and needs our advice. You may have to make us feel better by a foot massage or by praising us non-stop for 50 minutes…
Different things work for different people, and for women, the one common need is to be pampered and treated like a child. We’re all little girls within, and if you remember that, you can never go wrong…
Do one tiny thing at the right time to make us smile, and I promise, no woman on earth will disappoint you or turn you away when you seek shelter, estranged by the callous world.
Sincerely,
Barnita
P.S. : Nope, I’ve not fought with or been hurt by any guy. These are some things I’ve always wanted to say (and might have, before, either on my blog or in person). Just thought I’d put them up here for all you guys to read and learn, and for all you girls to share and rejoice about :-) Take care!!
And this time, here’s a sneak peek into the woman’s private zone…
Are you excited yet?
Well, if you think what’s so great about a woman’s lavatory, think again.
(In fact, if you DO think that there’s nothing special about a woman’s restroom, it’s all the more reason for you to read this post. Brush up on your GK, dude!! Dobara mat poochna!!)
For women, a washroom is not merely a place to freshen up, but an essential part of living… If walls had ears, the restroom walls would have been a part of the Guinness World Records for holding the most secrets…
Women crying.
Women gossiping.
Women sniggering.
Women discussing latest fashion.
Women reminiscing about the good ol’ days.
Women experimenting with new looks and make up.
I haven’t mentioned half the list yet…
Now do you see?
Now, again you would think why I’m sharing all this with you non-members of this private and beautiful zone. Am I not a woman who loves this space? I do, which is why I’m showing you just how important and exciting this place is…
Why else would a woman excuse herself to go to the washroom the minute she steps into a home, restaurant, office or club?
Men don’t do that, do they? At least not the (comparatively) macho ones that I know…
So, women obviously sit on the pot as they chat with their friends and boyfriends, either bitching or whispering sweet nothings.
Or they could be wailing coz someone shouted on them for something that was frivolous (according to them). Maybe a boyfriend giving them grief. Or coz they were feeling unwell and some supervisor acted rude and insensitive. No dearth of reasons to cry – we’re women after all!
The powder room, as it is also called at times, is a must visit for any woman who enters a pub or workplace. (Or anywhere for that matter)
Staring at themselves for hours in the mirror. Curling their already curled (or straightened) hair. Lining their eyes with mascara for the tenth time in 10 minutes. Painting their already shining lips. Peering at marks (both visible and invisible, real and imaginary) on the face and elsewhere. Adjusting accessories or the dupatta or the t-shirt… And once all of this done, staring at themselves from top to bottom again – a quick check to see if everything’s in order.
Being a woman isn’t an easy job, fellas! It’s a lot of hard work…
And I bet you don’t mind when you see the great outcome that steps outta the washroom. Worth the wait, right?
The venue is also a breakout zone for a gang of giggly girls who want to catch up on lost time and updates. Like who’s dating whom, who fought with whom, what’s the masala in the work world and movie world.
I know this is taking it too far, but once I even saw a girl sipping coffee as she chatted up her pals in the washroom! Takes the cake, eh? LOL.
Well, well… Women who are taking offence, pardon me. But I honestly don’t understand the concept of wasting time in the loo. The loo is meant for a particular purpose, one that I often finish in less than a minute. And when I see chics spending a good 15 minute break at work in the loo… It kinda surprises and amuses me.
And we laugh on…
Breaking News!!
I streaked my hair... Had them streaked at a parlour I mean... (It's also called highlighting, for those who don't know.) Which means I now have strands of red hair (not the fire-van red, it's a maroonish kinda tinge,similar to this picture ) on my crown . It ain't done as abundantly as I'd planned, but no sweat - I'm happy! :-)
Waise I am a very simple girl... And I feel all the more frugal when I see women around me dressing up for college everyday. (How will lining and kohl-ing your eyes and painting your lips help you be efficient and effective ) Of course, I tend to go overboard with my minimalism; even for parties, all I do is apply some earthy kajal and I'm all set, even as my gal-buddies blow-dry and iron their hair, paint their barn with foundation and rouge, color their eyes in dazzling blues and pinks, and outline their glossy lips. Whew! Each to their own; I inherited my no-nonsense-no-makeup attitude from my mum. But well, she is an angel to look at, whereas I could do with some help...
Anywaysssssssss...
While the hairdresser was Loreal-ing my tresses, I glanced through the numerous issues of Femina, Filmfare and other mags stacked on the counter. I read Sallu's cool-dude comments on his paintings and his hostility towards Shahrukh, I checked out fashion scares Mithun-da and Sonam Kapoor, and I read gossip about Hrithik and Barbara (Kites), Shahid and Amrita Rao (I thought she was going to get married and happily quit acting), etc.
I set hands on a Woman's Era magazine (November issue, I think), and staring at me out of the front cover were the words - HOW TO GET YOUR MAN TO TALK (or something to that effect.)
For ages I have been pondering over this very subject - why men gel so well and chat for hours with their buddies and colleagues and neighbors and roomies, but recoil every time their wife/girlfriend asks them to "talk" to her.
So, this article seemed God-sent, and I glanced through the words I've murmured a million times : Why men consider monosyllabic replies and grunts as perfect conjugal conversations, why they find nothing wrong in reading the newspaper as their disgruntled lady makes their chai / coffee in the kitchen, why a women's expression of her feelings or need to resolve relationship problems bores and irritates and annoys them, and so on and so forth.
Of course, the article did not answer these queries in anything more than a gender differences way; the usual "genders are wired differently" solution. However, reading the statements there assured me that I am not the only one who broods over these topics. The writer went on to relate how you can get a man to talk... And these ways are : just sit with him quietly (ahem!) and observe/understand as he goes about his tasks and activities, ask him about cars/bikes/politics/sports/gadgets or anything else that he's passionate about, avoid talking about his family, and the sort.
Nothing akin to rocket science, and all quite do-able, but my question is HOW LONG? You can do something a few times, and it's not unnatural to expect that the other person will also go a little out of the way to ease things... Taali ek haath se nahi bajti dost! You can rave on and on about gender differences and not head anywhere, and you can both understand and try to make things wonderful... Not impossible, right?!!
Anywayssss..My sister was looking like a Star on her wedding, everything went well . Most people from my school, college and family circle was happy with the Preparations they gave the Newly- Wed couple there blessings .
Good for them. Not good for me coz I hate these family dos. Compound it with the fact that there are horny old men lurking about and trying to grab a handful of you as they stare at your boobs and talk about stupid things. Grrr... It's all I can do to stop myself from slapping them... And then when some woman comes and starts inquiring about your profession as if she is planning to propose a billion-dollar business deal...
Time out.
Happy weekend!
