Posted in close to heart, Interesting Reads

I am woman

Every year, people all around the world celebrate March 8th as women’s day. Every year I wonder whats the point? I mean,  a day for women? Do we really need one day? And what really happens to us women on that day? Do we have to work less or not work at all? Do we not take up the responsibilities we do everyday? Do we just put our legs up and let the other species do all the things we do or dont do? Does the men..every man give us a leg massage and cook abd do the dishess abd take care of the baby(s) abd head to work and treat us special? Is that what the day is meant to be for? Such a lot of hype. I think if one really wants to have a day for women, then on that day, women everywhere should be able to walk on the road without any eyes oggling at her, she should havw tbe right to decide whether she should or shouuldnt wear lingerie, she should be able to hold a drink in her hand without being stared at n the likes. Above all.. here’s a note to the men.

Every woman has a past. Some were physically abused. Some had violent parents. Some had pubertal issues. Some had sexual abuse as a child from their own family members. Some had messed up love stories. Some had been forced into sex in the name of love. Some had been drugged. Some were date raped. Some had been viciously photographed on bed. Some had been blackmailed by their ex-boyfriend. Some were in an abusive relationship. Some had menstrual problems. Some had a broken family. Some had a divorce. Some had an obesity issue. Some had financial droughts. Some had drug or alcohol addiction. Some had a few unsuccessful suicide attempts.

If you see a woman, who went through any of these but had already wiped her tears, tied her hair up, masked her sorrows with a divine smile, stood tall and strong, started walking towards her future because she still has some hope left inside her and has not given up on the concept of love that still exists in this world, do not stab her with her past. Do not confront her. Do not slap her with more abuse. Give way for her and walk beside her. Make her believe in the goodness this life has. Teach her to trust. May be hold her hands and walk for a while. You’ll know how sweet that soul is and how strong her hopes are! You’ll be amazed at how she carries herself after all her energy has been sucked out.

She need not always be only the woman next door or from a different home. She could be your own friend, your own sister, your own girlfriend, your own wife, even may be your own mother. Do not judge her by her past. Gift her the peaceful future that she deserves. Hold her hands against the world, which knows only to judge. Give her the love that she always yearned for. Most important convince her thay what lies ahead of her is much better than what she left behind.

Men, most of us dont want to be superior than you and it really isnt what we are after. Give us the space to chase our dreams like you do. Taking care of the family, helping you realise your dreams and making you go after them will all be taken care of even if we do have a job! Give us the respect we deserve and stop treating us like your own-unpaid-butler/maid. Give us the love. Hold our hands. Hug us. Stop thinking about what the world will say or think. Let us, women too, live.


Posted in Interesting Reads

If men could menstruate-Gloria Steinem

Living in India made me understand that a white minority of the world has spent centuries conning us into thinking a white skin makes people superior, even though the only thing it really does is make them more subject to ultraviolet rays and wrinkles.

Reading Freud made me just as skeptical about penis envy. The power of giving birth makes “womb envy” more logical, and an organ as external and unprotected as the penis makes men very vulnerable indeed.

But listening recently to a woman describe the unexpected arrival of her menstrual period (a red stain had spread on her dress as she argued heatedly on the public stage) still made me cringe with embarrassment. That is, until she explained that, when finally informed in whispers of the obvious event, she said to the all-male audience, “and you should be proud to have a menstruating woman on your stage. It’s probably the first real thing that’s happened to this group in years.”

Laughter. Relief. She had turned a negative into a positive. Somehow her story merged with India and Freud to make me finally understand the power of positive thinking. Whatever a “superior” group has will be used to justify its superiority, and whatever and “inferior” group has will be used to justify its plight. Black me were given poorly paid jobs because they were said to be “stronger” than white men, while all women were relegated to poorly paid jobs because they were said to be “weaker.” As the little boy said when asked if he wanted to be a lawyer like his mother, “Oh no, that’s women’s work.” Logic has nothing to do with oppression.

So what would happen if suddenly, magically, men could menstruate and women could not?

Clearly, menstruation would become an enviable, worthy, masculine event:

Men would brag about how long and how much.

Young boys would talk about it as the envied beginning of manhood. Gifts, religious ceremonies, family dinners, and stag parties would mark the day.

To prevent monthly work loss among the powerful, Congress would fund a National Institute of Dysmenorrhea. Doctors would research little about heart attacks, from which men would be hormonally protected, but everything about cramps.

Sanitary supplies would be federally funded and free. Of course, some men would still pay for the prestige of such commercial brands as Paul Newman Tampons, Muhammad Ali’s Rope-a-Dope Pads, John Wayne Maxi Pads, and Joe Namath Jock Shields- “For Those Light Bachelor Days.”

Statistical surveys would show that men did better in sports and won more Olympic medals during their periods.

Generals, right-wing politicians, and religious fundamentalists would cite menstruation (“men-struation”) as proof that only men could serve God and country in combat (“You have to give blood to take blood”), occupy high political office (“Can women be properly fierce without a monthly cycle governed by the planet Mars?”), be priests, ministers, God Himself (“He gave this blood for our sins”), or rabbis (“Without a monthly purge of impurities, women are unclean”).

Male liberals and radicals, however, would insist that women are equal, just different; and that any woman could join their ranks if only she were willing to recognize the primacy of menstrual rights (“Everything else is a single issue”) or self-inflict a major wound every month (“You must give blood for the revolution”).

Street guys would invent slang (“He’s a three-pad man”) and “give fives” on the corner with some exchenge like, “Man you lookin’ good!

“Yeah, man, I’m on the rag!”

TV shows would treat the subject openly. (Happy Days: Richie and Potsie try to convince Fonzie that he is still “The Fonz,” though he has missed two periods in a row. Hill Street Blues: The whole precinct hits the same cycle.) So would newspapers. (Summer Shark Scare Threatens Menstruating Men. Judge Cites Monthlies In Pardoning Rapist.) And so would movies. (Newman and Redford in Blood Brothers!)

Men would convince women that sex was more pleasurable at “that time of the month.” Lesbians would be said to fear blood and therefore life itself, though all they needed was a good menstruating man.

Medical schools would limit women’s entry (“they might faint at the sight of blood”).

Of course, intellectuals would offer the most moral and logical arguements. Without the biological gift for measuring the cycles of the moon and planets, how could a woman master any discipline that demanded a sense of time, space, mathematics– or the ability to measure anything at all? In philosophy and religion, how could women compensate for being disconnected from the rhythm of the universe? Or for their lack of symbolic death and resurrection every month?

Menopause would be celebrated as a positive event, the symbol that men had accumulated enough years of cyclical wisdom to need no more.

Liberal males in every field would try to be kind. The fact that “these people” have no gift for measuring life, the liberals would explain, should be punishment enough.

And how would women be trained to react? One can imagine right-wing women agreeing to all these arguements with a staunch and smiling masochism. (“The ERA would force housewives to wound themselves every month”: Phyllis Schlafly)

In short, we would discover, as we should already, that logic is in the eye of the logician. (For instance, here’s an idea for theorists and logicians: if women are supposed to be less rational and more emotional at the beginning of our menstrual cycle when the female hormone is at its lowest level, then why isn’t it logical to say that, in those few days, women behave the most like the way men behave all month long? I leave further improvisation up to you.)

The truth is that, if men could menstruate, the power justifications would go on and on.

If we let them.

Posted in m@dness

Ten Commandments to satisfyin a woman

I am sure most of you thought I was gonna write about some other type of satisfaction. Sorry to disappoint!I am getting married. Oh not so soon maybe but yes, in another 4 months I AM getting married. So everyday my friends n I keep talkin about everything converning marriage and we seem to come to this consensus concerning the relationship men and women have!  Women and men are as different as chalk and cheese. Men always find it difficult to understand women. Or so they proclaim.But believe us, we are not that difficult to understand. Just try to keep the communication channel open and see how things fall into their place. Here’s a guide of some of the things women wish men automatically understood and remember it’s neither rocket science nor micro-biology.

And the Ten Commandments are:

1. We know men are low in EQ (Emotional Quotient) but make an effort to understand emotions. But remember we don’t like men who can’t control their emotions. Cry babies (oops men) are not what we are exactly looking at in life! We’ll do the crying, you solve the problem!

2. When we talk, pay attention to what we are saying. Don’t just nod your head and continue watching the cricket match on television. Listen dont just hear! Most times, we are trying to catch your attention!

3. Your mother might be great in the kitchen and can whip up gourmet dishes in no time. But sorry we can’t go on listening to your running commentary on her remarkable culinary skills. Appreciate us, once in awhile. Tell us where you want us to improve.

4. We believe in the power of communication. So, talk, fight but don’t just go into ‘silent’ mode. Leave that mode to your mobile phones and us;)

5 All of us  completely love a dash of chivalry in our partners. So be courteous and show us that you are well brought-up.

6 Don’t brag. Showing off really acts against you. Be subtle about your fat pay packet, your swanky car and the like. That shows your class.

7. Don’t think that you own us. So, behave accordingly. Like men folk, we also like our own space.

8. Romance comes naturally to us just as sex is natural to you. We love it when a man expresses his love. So, please show us that you love. Say it through flowers, dinners, gifts and of course count surprises as an important element of our DNA. Understand these basic points and act accordingly

9. Don’t try to give us lessons on moral science. And for heaven’s sake don’t comment on a low-neckline dress that we wear and comment on how sexy the other woman in a similar dress looks!That’s a very cheap thing to do. However, if a dress doesnt compliment our body, SAY IT!!!!!!

10. Don’t crack jokes on our family members, close friends. Show your great sense of humour with a touch of sensibility.


Posted in m@dness

Gentle Man?!

Man is a creation of desire, not a creation of need. Far too many women look up to men to come save them, to fill that gap in their lives, to make them feel safe. What is it? Is it the softness of our skin or the kindness of our emotions that make us so vulnerable?I’d guess both n a lot more.

It always amazes me how, many women like dangerous men. Men who almost from the moment you meet them, you know are bad news. Me, I prefer my men kinder. Gentler. Nice. Niceness is highly underrated by most people.We seem to live in a weird culture in which men are taught to apologize for their weaknesses and women for their strengths. I have seen so many men blaming the woman who he is unhappy with, in the same way he blames the door he walks into in the dark.

When a man gets up to speak, people listen, and then look. But when a woman gets up, people look and then, if they like what they see, they listen. I was watching a  christian wedding recently and I couldn’t help but wonder that when a woman gets married, she vows to love, honor, and obey her husband, though he gets off doing just the first two to uphold his end of the bargain. Why?

I, with deeper instinct, choose a man who takes it on him to complete me, who will encourage me to do what i want to do even if the world doubts my ability,who compels my strength, who will correct me when I am wrong by explaining where I went wrong,who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naïve. A man who will love and respect me for what I am, a man with dignity who will know when to treat me like a girl and when to treat me like a lady.

A man who has the courage to treat me like a woman.


Posted in close to heart

The Thin Woman- On size zero and being Adipose Enriched!

“Kareena’s Secret” splashed the front page of a well known woman’s magazine a few months ago.  The article went on to say how she had achieved her size- zero etc etc. And the next issue had readers saying thanks for the secrets!! Grrrrrrr what are/were they thinking.

You must have often bumped into her: the lone woman, with a perennially hungry look in her eyes, parenthesis of dissatisfaction around her mouth and an orange-ish hue to her fingers tips [from too many glasses of carrot juice?]. The lines of her body would make a Ferrari feel frumpish. Her silhouette is as perfect as a wash board’s; any which side you look at it. Her elbows are weapons and her rib cage will have you remember that the original eve was fashioned from a bone.

This is the woman, scribes [usually thin women themselves?] celebrate. The thin woman. The woman who has learnt to say no. The woman with the figure to carry clothes. Never mind that you and I will never cease to ask: what figure? The woman who has the world by its scrotum and will not relinquish her hold on it because what she wants, she gets.

Magazines all over the world devote many pages and much gloss to her. Achievers, they will tell you have a thin shadow. For the thin woman is very often a successful woman. From Celine Dion to Princess Di, From Claudia Schiffer to our own Kareena Kapoor, the thin woman is built with a core of steel. She is tenacious. She is purposeful. She has an incredible will power. For how else would she survive those days when nothing but comfort eating can help, work out regularly and keep her wayward taste buds leashed?

For some time now, I have endured with gritted teeth this celebration of the thin woman: Not because I’m fat. Simply because there is nothing more annoying than being lumped into a huge and broad category called fat. There is us, the adipose enriched. Supposedly cringing in the fringes. And there is them – the god’s own chosen walking tall. For they are the thin brigade and their banners read: The thin woman is a sophisticated woman. The thin woman has chic. Thin is beautiful. Thin is the way to be.

Again and again, I have stumbled across the phrase – If she was fat and ugly… and I would want to stretch across time and kilometres and grab the writer and the sub-ed who let it pass by their shoulders and yell: Ladies, Ladies, being fat doesn’t preclude being ugly. Being fat doesn’t mean being unhappy. Being fat doesn’t mean being consumed by envy for the thin woman.

The time has co me for some straight talk. From the gut, padded with a slight swell of flesh but nevertheless…

First, there is the question of why be thin? Why persevere so hard to resemble the androgynous stick insect?

Do men demand of women that they be thin? Ask just about any man [age, colour, education, income group no bar] about his fantasy woman and he’ll shape an hourglass in the air rather than draw parallel lines. So why do women inflict thinness upon themselves?ANd mind you, HOUR GLASS figure does not mean THIN!It means curvy with enough ADIPOSE TISSUE!

So what’s wrong with a few extra inches? We may never be able to wear a clinging sheath dress or a cropped top. Our collarbones will never see the sun rise again.. All we ask is if we tread the middle path of adipose, let us be. Shaped like a woman. Feeling like a woman. Satisfied with the way we look and the way we are. For heaven’s sake, don’t tell us how we ought to feel like.

For if one is to go by perceptions, there can’t be a more dissatisfied creature than a thin woman. She has neither the comfort of sublimating angst by tucking into a plate of French fries followed by a cream pastry nor does she have a man who she can trust will be with her through thick and thin, She lives haunted by the eternal fear ‘what if one day fat decides to make its home with me?’ LOL, yes I am laughing loudly! I pity the girls who live everyday smiling and walking tall to the world outside but burning with jealousy(for not being able to eat what they want) and insecurity(coz if they put on a lil weight, fear that their muscled,macho boyfriends might leave them).

So in spite of her flat abdomen and not even the shadow of a double chin, her thinness is ‘in’ and her enviable chic, the thin woman is always on the prowl. Where have all the men gone is her constant refrain that hits a hysterical high every now and then.

So is this a tirade against thin? Not really. For there is thin and there is thin. What they don’t tell you is that thinness begets age. {Even if the body belies it, thin women when dressed in clothes that would suit a teenager better, simply end up looking like mutton dressed as lamb] And worse, thinness begets loneliness…

In his twenties, a man will try anything. From trying to finish a bottle of whisky in one sitting to bungee jumping to swimming with the sharks to dating a thin woman. In fact, he even likes the thought of having a thin woman hanging on his arm. It gives out all the right signals. Me man. Me dating a vee-jay lookalike babe. Me and success hand in hand. Me cool.

But when it comes to marrying a girl, even the most coolest guy around town will seldom behave any different from an average goatherd. In bed and life, he wants substance. He wants something to hold on to; to cling and nestle against. If the toss up is between a cushion and a coat hanger, he will settle for the rounded contours rather than the straight and the narrow…

Besides he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life submitting to an iron will. A thin woman won’t let him snack. A thin woman will frown on his beer guzzling [there is nothing more offending than a beer belly in a thin woman’s eye] A thin woman will insist he works out when he’d rather nap. A thin woman will want him to take the dog for a walk while he’d rather sprawl on the couch and play touch and go with the remote control. A thin woman will want to know why he can’t do what she can – live on low fat low salt eats and stride ahead with a determined purpose. What man wants that? Even if he’s hippest coolest dude this side of the Arabian Sea.

A thin woman is good for a good time. But when it comes to settling down, ask a man and he will point out the girl with a bosom and fecund hips. In almost every culture, there is an axiom, prospective grooms swear by. Something to do with a woman being a real woman only when she has hair and boobs.

As the poet said: ripeness is all!