Touch me not!

There's a lot to say on this subject, many personal experiences apart from the horrifying stories I've heard from friends. The most recent experience of mine was just a few hours back, and yet I'm here, not knowing how to start writing on this issue. So many comments, so many diferent recollections of the same actions, so many acerbic curse words make their way through - but something stops me because the people whom I'm addressing are not worth even that much time of mine.
Here is a post my friend, dedicated to all you hip-pinchers and dress-pullers and leg-rubbers and butt-slappers. Here's a post just for you, all about you and your innumerable methods of making the best out of a situation where there is a woman sitting/standing in front/behind or next to you. You men set the rules don't you? You say you take advantage of a woman/girl only if you think they deserve it. Only if you think their dress is too vulgar. Even women (read mami's) agree that it's a girl's fault if she "attracts attention". I think you're forgetting this small point called freedom. India happens to be a free country, and it's any persons own choice to wear what they want. When you men can roam around in Lungis- revealing a bit more thigh than you should, and banyans- revealing a bit more chest than you should, I don't see why women cannot wear what they want. No girl in her right mind will wear clothes that she knows is vulgar, so I'm restricting this description to girls who have a decent dressing sense. Decent- defined the way they want. Anybody can carry off any dress or piece of cloth as long as they know and set their own limits. Then who are these unknown men setting the limits for us? Should I cover my heels?Oh I probably should. Since it was cold and early in the morning, I was covered from head to toe anyway, except for a small part of my heel that was not covered by my shoe. My bad, you say? Some people will, some usless good-for-nothing-goons actually might.
Men, pah. The guy who persistenly rubbed his leg against mine happened to be a second year from my college- beat that - a junior molesting a senior. Here he is, happily sitting behind me, slowly working his way up my leg. Sounds gross doesn't it? Feel it, its worse. Giving a nasty look didn't stop him, I was surprised at how determined the guy was to get his point across. He got more than just his point across, damnit. What can one do if there is no rowdy backup in college or no friends to beat up this guy in case a fight crops up? What if one doesn't want to make a scene in the bus and get into trouble with a guy who has a "has gone to jail will go again" look? One just moves her leg away and stop all the trouble and uneasiness. That's what I did, and I decided to forget the incident like all others and get some rest. But this guy has a lot of perseverence you see. He didn't give up that easily on anything, by the looks of it. He tried something yet again, but by then we had reached our destination and it was time to get up. Now as you would expect, rage builds up and a strong urge to beat the living shit out of him or to at least punch his nose and see some blood overcomes my fear of getting into deep trouble. Well, I wish I had done that, but all I could manage was "Do you want me to cut my leg off and give it to you? Maybe then you can feel it better" and a nasty look before I walked off. At least I noticed that his friends were next to him, so if even ONE of them was a bit decent, he will try to talk some sense into the *%&#.
I don't understand what it is with these people, who consider it their right to take advantage of any woman walking down the road. It's not rare to walk in a crowded place and have your butt slapped a few times; by the time you look to find who the culprit is - they're gone, dissolved into the rest of the crowd. Imagine the plight of the girls who travel by public bus - I have a friend who has to go through the unfortunate experience every single day. It just takes getting used to, some people say. They'll never change, why fret and spoil your day thinking about it? say others. What has brought these boys/men to a level where nobody thinks of punishing them anymore? I can think of good punishments - trust me. The images I have of that guy in my mind will make a few of you shrink away in horror. But this is just one face. How many men are there, with faces we don't remember, but leaving a lasting, disgusting impression in our minds anyway? Infinite number of men, without conscience or a sense of decency, leaving a mark in every single girl they touch inappropriately - though for them it's just another timepass in just another bus journey. The anger still hasn't gone away - not after the condescending look I gave him, not after the acrid post I've tried writing. It won't go away for a long time to come, because I know that right now, there are a few hundred women going through what I went through, maybe more. Don't these guys have sisters? Wives? Girlfriends? Mothers? Aunts? Cousins? Daughters? The saddest part is - they all do, but yet they decide to behave this way. which shines light on how cheap these people really are.
I'm not blaming all men, there are some very decent men out there in the world, and I'm honoured that I know so many of them, but I do know that each one of them knows at least one other person who behaves this way. That's the ratio between the number of decent men and the number of indecent men this country has. This is such a sad figure and it brings me to a point where I don't have anything more to say, because this blog post is in no way going to stop these BASTARDS (Sorry, bro - I meant not to swear, but these guys deserve it) from doing what they've always been doing.
This incident is not a first, definitely not. There have been many more occasions where various other methods than what have been described above have been tried. Listing each one is a tedious process, and unnecessary all the same. Becuase it doesn't matter how they do it, what matters is they do. Be it a slight brush against the hand or a deliberate pinch on the hip - indecency is still indecency.

Very random.

"Why does she write sad stories and poems anyway? " , one may wonder. I strongly believe that the goal of one's life is the pursuit of happiness. It showed ever since I was a little girl. Though I never had a clear picture of where I would be in a few years, I always knew that I wanted to remain happy. That was and is my ultimate goal. Everybody says they want to be a "doctor" or a "journalist" or whatever they want to excel in, like it's the primary goal in one's life, and it just happens that happiness follows these professions. I, on the other hand, have always believed that the pursuit of happiness is the most important of all pursuits, and whatever leads me to it, is just a consequence of me wanting to be happy. Seems like there is a very thin line between the two and if you don't get it, it only means I'm not able to articulate it properly, but there it is - The pursuit of happiness is one's primary goal in life.

There are so many different things I feel I can do. It's like pushing a child into a store full of candies he has never tasted before and asking him to pick one flavor that he has to eat for the rest of his life. You'd say it doesn't matter what he choses as he's never going to find out the true flavor and taste of any of the other candy's anyway. But it's left to him to wonder what it would be like if his choice were a bit different, maybe the candy on the rack next to the one he picked. Any person not open to such thoughts is called focussed, and is deeemed to be happy no matter what they are "given". But isn't it our decision to take whatever we want, so where does the question of "given" even come in? Serendipity and a lot of other factors like destiny (which is a whole new topic altogether) come into play, but we keep improving or modifying what we want according to what we get, and we can never really just sit down and be satisfied or content with what we are "given".

I really admire those people who have wanted to pursue one particular field for as long as they can remember and continue doing so and discover new passion for it everyday. It's like what I see in people doing research, passion drives them to work harder and it never seems to die out. They may have a few lapses, every profession does, but in the end they still enjoy what they do. Or consider people into their own creative careers, taking up photography or art or cooking professionally. They enjoy what they do and earn a living too.

What if you're that interested in everything and you see that you cannot make up your mind on what you do really want to stick with for the rest of your life? And what if you realize that it's not confusion about a career choice but that's how things have been working ever since you were a kid and it'll probably never change? What if you're at a stage where you know that though one particular career could sustain you and keep you happy forever, that's not what you seek? What if you want to be a photographer, a journalist, a researcher, a teacher, a counsellor, a psychiatrist, a criminal investigator, not all at the same time, but definitely one thing at one time, sometime in that short life of yours? What if you're supposedly at a junction where you HAVE to choose, because you're yet again in that path which bifurcates into so many different paths, all equally interesting and intriguing? People say I should examine my head. See a counselor. Take some time off and see what I'm good at. Take aptitude tests, personality tests. Take "which career is best for you? " tests. Consider your options (financially, keeping family in mind etc.). The list is endless and pointless, so I'm going to stop typing it.

The point being, is it really that big a crime to not know what you're going to do tomorrow? I don't want to know. I'm going to take it as it comes,as I always have, not spend my time worrying about a wrong career choice, and it seems to work for me. I know i can give my best shot wherever I am, so it's not a question of survival. Is it a mistake to remain that starry eyed girl who wants everything she sees and saves up in her little piggy bank to get it? At the same time, is it wrong to want money? Isn't money just an exchange of talent? Those who have read Atlas Shrugged will know what I'm talking about. Nobody has ever portrayed the true meaning of money that beautifully or precisely as Ayn Rand has. I know the answer to these questions myself, it's not wrong to be that girl, it's not wrong to desire something this foolishly. But sometimes, just sometimes, it seems to me that the world is lost in an era where people fool themselves and continue living for the sake of being alive rather than trying to live every moment. These times, I feel like society throws these questions at me, and I'm not yet in a strong enough position to throw back my answers at them, proving them wrong. Instead, these questions keep coming back to me and I wonder if they could be right, bringing me to this situation, but when I try answering those questions, I realize how absurd the questions are and how ridiculous and unjustified the answers can get.

Let's come back to why I write sad poems, or rather, why I'm better at it than writing happy ones( a proof of which is "A few of my everyday things"). For all you worried souls out there, I assure you, I'm not cringing in pain or misery when I write such poems. And I appreciate the fact that you worry about me, but don't, cuz I don't worry about you. I trust you to be fine without me worrying about you. It just happens that happiness doesn't come out as words, because that's the state I'm in most of the times, and it usually manifests itself as high pitched screaming or mad-PJ cracking spree or something else the world doesn't quite approve of :P.

P.S - I realize this is a long post. Too long for me to proofread. So kindly put up with slight grammatical and blatant spelling errors :) And the justify option doesn't work. So I'm sorry if the formatting(or the lack of it) hurts your eye.

Alone or lonely?

As the world around me whizzes past at maddening speeds
I'm standing rooted to a place, trying to move - but numb
I see you come closer and move away at the same time
am I alone or lonely?

When life goes on without a break
When I can't relate to anyone around
When I hear what you say but don't get what you mean
am I alone or lonely?

In a crowd but yet so far away
talking, listening - all just for a moment
When nothing is significant enough to leave back a memory
Am I alone or lonely?

Alone I am, lonely not.
Such a dark shade of a (s)light difference
Choice it is, to remain this way
In a lonely place, but still, alone.

The fastest poem I've ever written. 10 minutes! The idea of alone/lonely came to me in class yesterday, and since then I've been hasty to get it done. It hasn't come out as well as I thought it would,not even close, but it's still an attempt.

A few of my everyday things

A lot of people around me keep asking why I write sad poems that make them think about unhappy things. Why such a happy person who cracks many PJ's almost all the time, should show this seamy(?) side of hers. So here goes my first attempt to write something happy. But reading it doesn't make me happy. It just doesn't make me sad. Which is definitely a start. So here's the brand new me, making an effort to bring a bit more happiness into your lives. If you can't appreciate it(just how I wasn't able to), at least laugh at how pathetic an attempt this is! :)

Crayons and pencils and sketches of different colours
They make me want to keep using them for hours
To draw differnt patterns and beautiful figures
But mostly to make random things that grow bigger!

My laptop and cellphone and music player - all useful gadgets
help me survive when I have to do some projects
They make me realize that electricity is indispensable
And they're all connected with wires and cables!

My family and friends and roomies of different ages
coming from such varied backgrounds and stages
They make my mind and heart stick together
And make problems seem as light as a feather!

My mokkaes and PJ's and the worst possible jokes
They crack them up no matter how hard are these folks
They're meant to somehow make things fall into place
but instead it makes people get into a craze!

My dreams of big houses and the ocean and ship cruises
They help me forget that I have mental bruises
They take me to a happy place in parellel universes
Where things are just perfect and rhyme like these verses!

Giving up? Not yet.

As the world drowns yet again in sorrow,
even as we try denying it, we know the truth
that it's all going down and it's only going to harrow
what's left of our battered souls. We bear the wrath
of sins from the past, searching for a tomorrow
that will be free from the binds of sloth.

When happiness becomes a mere illusion
leaving one to wonder if it was ever theirs to lose;
"make" yourself happy, we think - to what end though?
When what you stand for fails, or fails you - trepidation
results, principles and faith we start to peruse,
the outcome of which we may never know.

Isolation by choice ensues. The world gives up on you
because when you give up on the world, on life -
nothing out there is what you want anymore.
It's as bad as this, or worse. If any of what you believed in is true,
you'll know that this is not the end - but is the mind in strife
with reality? Until you know, it's best to get back to what you were before.