Wednesday, December 7, 2011

The Sex Wars!




The journey of growth from a boy to a tall guy than eventually coming around to becoming a man is filled with the pressure to ‘perform’ all the time. Being born into this sex, there is a sense of leadership that everyone instantly expects you to live upto whether in your family, peer group or at work.

Many men see women as having it relatively easy. They just have to conform while we have to perform. It’s quite like walking on a thin rope with your masculinity in the line, always. Because before they know that they’re going off balance, someone will either question in concern or condescension if you “have the balls” or that you probably need to “grow a pair” lest you want to be called a “pussy” ever in your life.

If you are anything like me, you go into questioning the small (many consider ‘silly’) little details of rhetorical statements like these. I, myself, as a woman and an ambivalent feminist have been employing these phrases and I really can’t be blamed coz of their widespread usage in every other language that I come to encounter or hear.

Having the balls or a pair metaphorically means much more than the biological possession of the genitilia. It connotes possessing guts, strength, courage, machismo – all positive affirmatives of masculinity and individuality.

“Being a pussy” by means of attaching a harmless and demure animal like a kitten to the female genitilia connotes cowardice and weakness that one associates with being a hapless damsel in distress.

But why such gross underestimation of the ‘vagina’ and superfluous worship of the ‘penis’? Despite being one of nature’s most interesting designs, the female vagina has been so short credited of all its beauty. The vagina protects itself from dust and dirt and is a self cleansing organ. The Penis? Nope! There are 8000 nerve endings in the clitoris, dedicated exclusively to female pleasure. The penis only has 4000. This is quite an ironical fact considering many women live their lives never finding their G spot!

Even one of the most eminent figures in Psychology, Sigmund Freud attached way too much importance to the penis in his theories accusing girls of experiencing something called “penis envy” in their psycho-sexual development. Feminist psychoanalyst, Karen Horney counter balanced Freud with her interpretative theory of men experiencing what she called the “womb envy”. The famous urban legend of ‘Vagina Dentata’ (literally means, vagina with teeth) also probably emerged as a feminist backlash to all the violence meted out by men against women like it was their birthright.

Many theorists explain the greater participation of men in physical violence by the anatomy of the penis as an overt form that looks to penetrate and conquer whereas the vagina must secure itself from intruders entering with women, thus, having a greater endurance and tolerance level. It explains how women not just conceal by clothing but hide away in their posture sitting cross legged as though anything wider would mean an open invitation of sorts. 

All these theories and the many references in pop culture are very convincing to lead many of us to believe them to be universally or scientifically true while they are just clever ways to perpetuate gender conforming beliefs. If you examine the politics in the practice of genital modification across cultures and religions, it has such a harmful impression on both genders.

While circumcision of the penis, practiced amongst Muslims and Jews, has many health advantages to it, female genital moderation is purely by cultural custom meant to reduce a woman’s sex drive and abstain them from ‘pleasure’ during intercourse. Nor is male circumcision without controversy where the claims of the reduced chances of sexually transmitted diseases (in heterosexual intercourse) and penile cancer or enhanced penile hygiene have inconclusively mixed evidence. Not to of course forget the issue of ‘consent’ in it where many are circumcised at infancy or even if at adolescence, without giving them the space to question or challenge the authority of an age old custom. Further to this, female genital mutilation (read more about FGM here) is also a form of violence perpetuated in many politically unstable countries and male circumcision is perfectly legal in every culture and country. How can men be expected to break any cultural moulds or cycles of violence when they go through rituals just as strictly without consent or challenge?

There is a lot of fuss around our genitals defining much of our lives or even whether we live, when they don’t determine our sexual orientation, social identity, food, our drive to succeed.

It is over this fuss that babies are brutally killed. It is over this fuss that many don’t find a place in the society and are shunned to live in shady sidelines. It is over this fuss that some of us can’t choose to go out for business or pleasure at certain hours or to certain places.

It is the fuss over our genitals that divide the sexes into feeling privileged and deprived in their own places, dividing them instead of uniting them to work together.

This Blog is Halabol's entry to the Men Say No Blogathon, encouraging men to take up action against the violence faced by women. 

More entries to the Blogathon can be read at www.mustbol.in/blogathon. Join further conversation on facebook.com/delhiyouth & twitter.com/mustbol


You can join the conversation for social change with Halabol on Facebook and Twitter




Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Metallica, the Meltdown in Delhi

Photo Courtesy: Zabeeh Afaque/ Hindustan Times

Writer's Note: This piece comes more than two weeks too late following the cancellation of Metallica concert in Gurgaon, Haryana (India). 

There is an uncanny resemblance between the flow of music and material goods from the hierarchy of the First World to the Third. Sarojini Nagar Market & the Western Music scene in India are two cases in point. Both sell market rejects.

Bear with me oh self proclaimed metal head (with the claim of knowing all discographies; also easily available in Wikipedia), for I have nothing against metal and certainly am a bigger junkie for shopping outside of showrooms. But it does eat away at my soul when mostly the ‘Has Beens’ of the music industry come and ‘grace’ us with their presence. When Prodigy successfully performed in Gurgaon earlier this year, I was just puzzled why a Coldplay, System of a Down or an Adele won’t play in town. Furthermore, I was bewildered by the number of “dedicated” Prodigy fans that cropped up as if they all decided to come out of the closet after all these years once the show was announced.

They say it takes 10 years for masses in India to catch up with international music acts and in another ten, once the act wears off from the contemporary scene of the Billboards and the Grammys, its time to relive their past glory in the land of ashrams, spirituality and suckers who call music by Aqua evergreen.

Now I won’t go into some fourfold analysis into why and how the concert was a success in Bangalore, known to host more and better rock acts than the NCR region ever has. For a deeper analysis on the factors that failed in Delhi, you may like to refer to Abhiroop Datta’s, a disgruntled yet hopeful fan, detailed account of the event, pre and post.

Sanya Rai Gupta, who attended the shows in both cities, said, I felt that the Bangalore gig was way more organized, in terms of the waiting time, the crowds and the timing. Metallica played for about two hours, and there was a short gap between when they started playing and the opening bands stopped...but the crowds were pretty enthusiastic and patient.” Yet, no one can assume with confidence if the audience in Bangalore would have reacted the same, if the management had subjected them to the same debacle that Delhiites faced.  

There have been multiple observations and commentaries on the mobs and the vandalism, some sympathizing with their frustration, others delineating via dialects how they were, in fact, not from around town. Amongst all the arguments in the debate whether it was the management versus the crowd to be blamed or the Delhi against Bangalore rock culture, the words of Blogger Rahul Sarin most strongly agreed with me, when he said:

You on the other hand, dear band members, were sitting in your hotel room, comfortably. You did not have the courtesy to apologize to your fans. Your crew treated the audience like dogs by hurling abuses at them and insulting them. Had this been USA, UK or any other nation for that matter, you’d have not dare messed with the audience by way of insults. 

Given my apparent prejudice towards Delhiites, the failure of a Metallica concert turning into mob madness would have normally amused the sadist in me. However, in the spirit of justice and value for entertainment, I personally (despite my physical absence from the scene) felt ragged by the unapologetic attitude of the management, the band and the crew. Media reports claimed that the band refused to play out of concern for the safety and security of the audience. Accepted but in a better PR exercise, they should have issued a more consolatory press statement and reached out to their fans via Twitter. Lady Gaga, another visiting artist in India for the Formula 1, does not have the largest Twitter followers for no reason!

Photo Courtesy: Zabeeh Afaque/ Hindustan Times

We no longer inhabit a world where artists, celebrities or even the Government can maintain a snooty distance from the public and remain inaccessible to their fans. Thanks to Social Media, Jasmine revolution for democracy in the Middle East and rising fuel prices, voices don’t just come out in small circles but explode in the World Wide Web.

The NCR region has held many events on a much larger scale than any other metro in the country combined. The Metallica mishap came in an unfortunate series of events that is more of an isolated incident than routine and the culprits have been brought to task. True that such follies being committed in a Pandit Ravi Shankar concert or a ‘Daler Mehendi Live’ is less imaginable and a band like Metallica is but once in a lifetime opportunity. For all such reasons, the sentiments of the crowd are more understandable than the excuses made by the management.    

*All images are under the copyright ownership of Zabeeh Afaque

Monday, October 3, 2011

Why I don't "make peace"


~ Not because I wasn't born during war or post a battle victory.



~ Not because my parents came from a hippie culture and generation that came ten years too late to the North East.

Right is the Daddyster! 

My mom was a pothead! 


~ Not because my name wasn't even remotely thought of as courtesy to Sir William Makepeace Thackeray.



~ Not because my name came from a TV sitcom




~ Not because my parents thought the female detective's character, Makepeace (surname) was cool (Just like in the 90's & in my tweens, I thought Buffy was cool! Thank God, I didn't have a baby then).

Badass Makepeace! 


~ Not because my name comes from a very old lineage of the English surname.

~ Not because my name has been murdered on more than several occasions that I sometimes almost wish that I was called Jo and alternately, Yo!

  • Make piece
  • Make peace (who the fuck gave the space in between in the first place?)
  • Cake piece
  • Maybe
  • Mouth piece
  • Magpie
  • Maggie
  • Make believe
  • Make love
  • Make war


~ Not at all because I get such results when I google my name (without the space, you genius!)



~ Especially because people presume I'd be soft spoken owing to my name.

...only because I do as and when I feel like and don't always make it apparent!

Disclaimer: No, I'm not obssessed with my name. People are always very intrigued by it just like I am with the Parsi surname Sodabottleopenerwala. This post is just to put their queries and sometimes, wild imaginations to rest.

At Last: Dempsey & Makepeace in real life hooked up & got hitched & remain so till today. Yes, you Bones/Castle fans can be optimistic after all! 

The Introspective Sabatical

Okay, so I might just be too young to be taking one considering that I started working only just a year or so ago. It wasn't easy to let go, trust me. The nagging fear of seeming incompetent in today's day and age is much too much, which is precisely the reason why the world is spinning out of control. Taking time off JUST for yourself is usually either frowned upon as a selfish task or being clearly dysfunctional.

It has taken me a week to fully give my vote of confidence to this decision without any regrets and make peace (don't say I never practise my name!) with the losses left behind.

The moment when you're restrained off your duties, responsibilities and obligations to an entity, its only just a mental registration of that fact. Its a fact that you assimilate with all other kinds, related or unrelated, on a daily basis. But it takes a lot more physical and psychological, if not spiritual, detoxification from a habit, routine, role and most crucially, an identity. I'm beginning to appreciate the many twists and turns life took in the past couple of months and although they were filled with much testing, agony and led to some loss of faith, I'm glad for how they turned out. It might just be too early to say 'amen' but in a pattern it restored some faith to how the good old always say, "It will all turn out okay".



In my time "off", I have a list of things that'll keep me from being idle, hence, not giving the devil any time or space for the workshops, too many of which I've attended.

~ I will continue to write on all the platforms I'm afforded and will plunge myself into newer angles, vision and post reflective assessments which certainly will not limit itself to social development or existential crisis.

~ Learning my way around the kitchen is very high on my pursuit this month.

~ Getting help for all the excess baggage (a lot which I'm aware of & a lot more that is elusive) that has been slowly eating at me and is responsible for a lot of misgivings and misbehaviour, even.

~ Getting back to print! Got a scanty list of books lying about collecting dust but also reading literature that online publications can never really replace (so far in my imagination).

~ Goa. You know the rest :)

~   Dancing. Improving technique, clarity and letting myself get lost in the beats and the music.

~ I'm putting swimming and running here as well although they will follow my dominant interests of continuing to watch the tons of movies I do and occasionally cutting myself some slack as a couch potato.

~ Most importantly, re-assessing my near future goals and priorities in life. To mentally prepare myself for the big move that I now need more than I desire and to understand in which order is work fulfilling for me and what I am gunning for - Money, fame, recognition, identity, experience, filling a void and/or whatever else one adds after the dots.

To October!


Wednesday, September 7, 2011



The title is adept to the movie’s post war setting in Berlin, 1945. In the crumbles of war, trauma and hopeful pursuits’ decease the disillusioned lives of survivors while power politics is played between leaders under the garb of peace conferences. And in between falls Lena (suavely played by Cate Blanchett), the beautiful wife of a significantly wanted scientist, Emiel Brandt, who is presumed dead by all blocs. Jacob Geismar (perhaps a little less convincingly played by George Clooney) ,an American captain, journalist and Lena’s old flame, arrives on his second deputation not expecting to find her with his driver, a young and hot blooded corporal (Tobey Mc Guire). As Geismar unabashedly seeks (longs for) her, the corporal’s body is unexpectedly washed in. Only to Geismar’s curiosity, this murder means more than a mere consequence of zonal trespassing that eventually unfolds to his estranged lover, whose only goal is to survive while fulfilling a secret duty with her irresistible aura as the only means to escape.
                                         Stephen Soderbergh cuts a classic 40’s cinematographic piece coupled with the old school background score to the full effect of nostalgic cinema. And although it may take considerable cognitive effort to gather the story together, it’s worth the rental on a lazy day or even for a collector’s piece. 

Originally published in Traffic Life, a former magazine by Twenty Onwards Media Pvt. Ltd.  


Thursday, September 1, 2011

Carrying All That Weight Around


I like to think I'm a bohemian artist in this generation of rat race and cut throat competition. That I'm 'Indie' and I'm only just competing with myself. Its true that it is me against myself in this world. That is, me and my ideas of being 'Bohemian' and 'Indie' versus the unresolved and perpetually stirred conflict within myself of the expectations I choose to adhere to and those I forego with high claims of individuality, principle and superior thought.

No one said that the twenties are a period of existential homeostasis. Then why the fuck are people pretending it is? And why the fuck doesn't anyone tell you how ugly it was going to get and why won't most of us admit to it? What are people done experimenting life "so fully" in their teens that the twenties are all about resolving to some sedentary concept of a suburban life? Fuck you. You went around with every Adam and Eve that barked up your tree at 16 and now you're claiming settlement at effin' 23?

Oh you go party every weekend with that safe & secure gang from your BBM, so its all good, eh? Fuck you! I agree that drinking is not the solution and that it makes you forget the question (which is just so 'effin awesome, I know!) but halt, you escapist! No, not from uninhibited drinking but believing that izz alll goood just 'cause you do that.

And don't lament some other fellow's miseries just to make yourself feel a tad more secure from your own! Empathy is a dying trait of this generation and will only be referred to merely as figurative speech by the end of this century.

Why am I so angry? Because I don't have what you do. That I don't project my imperfect life as going just as great as yours. Again, fuck you. No I don't but I'm not as angry about that as I am about all that is worth going outta the window and superficiality being the king of good times! 

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Ragini MMS (2011)

An ode to the guy I go to for an update and a better (funnier) insight on the genre of Horror movies, M'hael.

"Despite the repeated jump scares and the less than impressive CGI, this movie does somewhat pull Indian Horror outta the ol' rut" 


Sub-Genre: Horror, Supernatural/Haunted House

Cast Members of Note: Kainaz Motivala (Wake Up Sid), Raj Kumar Yadav (Love, Sex Aur Dhoka) 

What's it About? - A couple go out of town for a 'dirty' weekend (quite presumably) to a lonely, deserted house only to realize their little party will soon be thrashed by the spirit of a Marathi woman (who looked much like the stereotype of a Bombay Bai), accused of witchcraft and killed (assuming years back!) by neighbours (or was it family?) who believed she killed her own children. 

Also, what Ragini doesn't know is that the house is set up with cameras everywhere including the bathrooms (where the cameras would blur her nether regions) and some dingy rooms where only action one can capture is rodents going anal on each other. 

All you get is prolonged first base. Yes, even them rodents do it hotter. Wonder why the Censor Board rated it A?
After a few teasers, jump scares and Ragini's uninvited friends dropping in & also teasing the audience, followed a whole lot more teasers and jump scares. Even as Ragini and deutche bag boyfriend get down to "business" (For the BF, making both 'love' & 'quick cash'), they don't go as far as even groping each other, forget any clothes coming off. And no no, the ghost ain't to be blamed. If you can't get beyond first base in 10 mins and are still playing coy with the camera, well your prude ass deserves to be scared the shit out of. 

Tsk...pussy! The BF i.e.! 
*SPOILER ALERT* 

The Good - Pawan Kripalani didn't do a ham of a job with this one. He kept the audiences on the edge of their seats. Well he kept me on the edge of my palm covering my face. But then again, I scare too easily but get disturbed with that much more difficulty. There were some remarkable moments of creep when BF suddenly and randomly speaks in Marathi saying, "I am not a witch". It wasn't even a moment that was taken very seriously by the gf or the audience but had an insidious effect in setting the platform for the 'scare'. Although, the Marathi rambling of the spirit got a li'l too repetitive and comical eventually, the idea of a spirit rambling in regional language was quite clever and the words were deathly too. The actors have been highly praised for convincingly playing their parts and I wouldn't disagree too much. They were also quite unflinching in the exhibition of their sexual prowess, which is still very rare for Indian actors but for the old farts in the censor board and their 16th century concept of shame in sexuality.

The Bad - Although the movie was a 'thrilling' experience of sorts for me, there were no take aways. There was so much more that the spirit could have done other than ramble Marathi, slap, move stuffs and nonsensically kill people. Indians have a long way to go with special effects amongst many other things. Since the spirit was a old Marathi woman, they could have had make up do more justice to her gory appearance than a CGI blur, which would have worked better if it was the spirit of a younger, well toned woman.
                         Special effects aside Indian writers need to start being a little bit more imaginative than the tried, tested and even loved formula of 'purani haveli', 'chudail' and all such familiar keywords. Granted this movie was a first of its kind and wasn't as terrible as potentially anticipated by me but reinventing the wheel (read, Paranormal Activity, The Blair Witch Project) gets you no brownie points for originality, even though we're just habituated to rehashed stuffs now.

My friend Neha, who unlike me, was laughing her head off at the jump scares said, "My only takeaway from Ragini  MMS is to never let a guy handcuff me" 
The Downright Horrendous - Masochist Ms. Kapoor wanted to ensure the script had every opportune moment of a BC/MC expletive. And as parochial and imaginative she is, decided to draw up a character of an abusive and disrespectful boyfriend who, of course, trapped innocent li'l Ragini into his pyaar ka jaal (Now I know how it feels like to write for Delhi Times). Essentially, there isn't much of a difference between her soaps and movies only she gets to release a lot more libido in the latter, which is only as much as a finger bath for me. 

The Gory - Again, so much scope for gore that was wasted because make up artists couldn't have done convincing jobs and a CGI would have just looked shoddy. The part when Ragini slits her wrist to lose free from the cuffs was good but then again she didn't go as far as amputating herself, which could have added gore substance to the movie. Imagine if she had only one hand to carry the cam with the other bleeding out. Yes, I'm sick but apparently that's what it takes to write good horror scripts.

The Naked - If the lack of boink boink in the movie will dissappoint you, you'd probably want to ask for at least half your money back since only as much as bra straps were coyly flashed for 2 seconds and tank top on! Dirty weekend indeed...spent on watching this movie! 

What did we learn ? Again, don't let anyone handcuff you in a creepy ol' house in the middle of nowhere. This can't go the right way even without a supernatural presence. 
Also, if you're a South Bombay/Delhi bred, there are more varieties of bad boys out there than the "West Delhi, 'Jat Boy' sticker on the car shield" kinds. 

Makepeace says: B-

                              The B for trumping over the contemporary history of bad Hindi horror movies like Vaastu Shastra, Hawa, Bhoot or even the competition, Haunted 3D and its attempt to be creepy. The negative marking for still repeating the same ol' mistakes and for the nth time I will say it, the friggin' jump scares. Its not a good horror movie if I didn't see most of the scenes because of my neuro-biological defence mechanism towards loud thuds and 'here and gone' appearances. 

Final Thoughts: (forced by practise and tradition)

Hot?






Friday, May 6, 2011

Building Castles in the Air: First Date



On our first date, we would go to a park. Minus any blanket or lunch baskets. Just our cameras, curiosity (mostly about each other) and excitement to shoot the outdoors. I would be dressed something like this...


What he wore, wouldn't really matter much to either of us. Not that what I wore would but it'd be as delightful as sugar flour sprinkled on doughnuts.

We'd be on our own trips to click what we individually felt like. We'd share. We'd experiment. We might even compete. But not to do out do the other. Fine, I might have a tad bit of the streak but I'd be humbled by his acceptance...not of defeat but of my idiosyncrasies.

We might hold hands. Almost accidentally without either particularly intending to do so. Our hands would brush each others' a lot. What felt from it would defeat our game plays or power politics.

We'd horse around a lot. Not the 'watch out for the tickling monster' variety. Just let go of social inhibitions. Strike silly poses. Push our own limits of acting child like only to appreciate that side of us more.

Naturally we'd click each other a lot; in moments when either one was too busy clicking something else. Neither of us would feel too beautiful to pose for a fancy photo shoot. But we'd be comfortable in each others company to make silly faces and trust that they would be framed well.

We'd lie on the grass. Click the skies, the trees, our horizontal portfolios. We'd hopefully find a cafe nearby. We'd choose to sit outdoors. Light a smoke, at least I would. Preferably, there'd be a slight nip in the air to enjoy the steam from our coffee and the warmth of our bodies leaning over to make discrete fun of the families sitting close by or that distant couples' matched clothes.

We'd fiddle with each others' fingers. He'd gaze deeply at me. I'd just feel more awkward than shy and gaze away at the clouds or anything a distance away. I'd end up asking hypothetical questions. He'd answer playfully. I'd make fun of his responses. I'd be caught in a strange dichotomy of feeling conscious (even shy at this point) yet wishing the day wouldn't end. Ideally, he'd sense it all and play along and shoot me some silly, hypothetical questions. I'd whip out my camera by now to shoot people in the cafe. He'd use his to take some scenic shots.

It starts to get dark and we'd decide to also dine there for supper. But first, we'd get us some affordable (not cheap, though) wine. He might ponder over a beer but I'd insist we share the wine, both for the connection and to split the costs. Mood would set in soon after.

I'd open up to my 'wilder' side. I'd begin flirting slightly more shamelessly. He might blush or be endeared by my mood switch. I'd become bolder with every sip from the glass and before I'd consciously realize, my right foot will not be on the floor any longer. We'd definitely be clutching our hands at this point. But he's also hungry. I wouldn't insist on anything in particular so ask him to order the main course but insist on doing the same with the desert. He will oblige (if he knew any better for himself). I'd feel a li'l (or a lot) wet by now.

We'd share our food. No one would dare or even think to feed the other. None of us would want either to be eating out of their hands. Definitely, not at this point. But we'd pick each others' food liberally and especially enjoy doing that.

After settling our accounts fair and square, we'd take the auto to my place. He SHOULD make the bold step to lean over and kiss me. We make out with the air blowing on our faces. I'd play with his hair a lot. He'd be gentle throughout. His hands would scurry about my dress, wanting to feel the obvious. That would only get me more excited. Auto driver would be unresentful of it all yet careful only to steal a few glances from his rear view and not stop and stare.

Auto gradually makes a stop. So do we. I'd have the broadest smile on my face and feel like not a care in the world about the serious public display of affection I just indulged in.

I'd walk inside my home and my phone buzz and I'd read, "Thank you for coming with me". 

Friday, April 29, 2011

Take a Bow...

or well, just simply applaud. If nothing else, it wouldn't kill you to check if I have it in on my Flickr photostream.

For about a very short while, I have been enticed with the idea of pursuing photography as a serious hobby. 'Serious' denotes that I would heavily invest my time and resources into it but at the end of the day, it'd remain a hobby, not a professional priority.

Needless to say, its an expensive hobby. I'm sure I'm going to be investing a lot of my money (that should ideally go into this 'savings plan' for the BIG MOVE) on buying further requirements like lenses.

But from my trip to Leh/Ladakh, what I also realized was how much work it is in a day for an 'average' photographer. Especially, if you're using a DSLR and that too, Canon. So many changes and shifts in settings and modes to customize to the lighting, framing, angle, shooting etc. etc. I remember my hands were aching at the end of the day and my right eye being a li'l blurry in vision.

Moreover, the frustration that can come with it when your hands ache, your eyes are sore and you have like a 1000 odd pictures (and not even enough memory space for it!), and you just HATE all your pictures. Maybe one odd two could be a little consoling.

Nevertheless, the whole experience has been very fulfilling and one of growth as a person and as an artistic skill. I always tend to come up with these high flying plans for myself (just because I don't have a life otherwise!). Shooting street fashion was my less than humble, ambitious plan. It still is. I really don't think I can just as yet define what's 'my thing' as a photographer. Right now, I'm willing to shoot anything and everything from a cat licking its paws to stills of really random objects like 3 pin multi plugs. But I look forward to knowing what my thing is and its going to be such an exciting journey.

I'm not sure of how much potential and therefore, use will I be but I'd like to do pro bono photography. There really hasn't been anything so far that I was good at and willing to do for free (I'm not good at too many things so I like to hoard them for maximum gain!). Always went by the wise words, "If you'r good at something, never do it for free". But the purity of and the joy in giving and the warm glow you feel inside is worth much more than a few extra bucks.

So I take a bow to this amazing art, that is my new lease for life.


Friday, April 8, 2011

Setting The Record "Straight"

A message I received on Facebook today.


Nk Kishord April 8 at 1:23pm Report
Read abt u in one of the mag- The Week if i remember correctly. Yr perception that people from north east are not welcome in other part of India - specially western part may not b entirely correct. i live in Mumbai and hv been seeing many from NE states working here happily. I hope u will change yr perception in times to come. by the way what is your NGO engaged in?? Best wishes -KISHOR
Makepeace Sitlhou April 8 at 2:33pm
Hi!

Thank you for writing in. 

The situation in Mumbai and South India is different from North. And I and my family have mostly only stayed in Northern parts of the country, in particular Delhi where we have been located for the past 10 years now. Because the north is closer home, it is also more accessible to North easterners hence there's a greater migration rate towards places like Delhi and Chandigarh then Bangalore or Mumbai (although there have been increasingly shifts). North India has a very ghetto attitude towards North Easterners in a way of not only discrimination in treatment but they also perceive us as soft targets. This in turn perpetuates a ghetto like collectivity amongst the north easterners who find it safer and familiar to stick with each other. Hence the bridge only becomes greater!

People in the south, being a whole lot more civilized, are more accommodating and even friendly. Yet, I've seen mainlanders from there also rife with many stereotypes (which are limiting and unintentionally, even offensive) about us. 

Nevertheless, it is really good to know that the perception is becoming a lot more friendly and familiar about us. I personally don't endorse north easterners to be lauded as 'victims' and the 'marginalized' continuously. It really doesn't help our cause and I think what would more automatically shun any over assuming mainlander, is by proving our worth doubly! It is no discrete fact that many communities from the north east are still very socio-economically backward and listed under ST/SC under the constituition. Having said this, I still don't think its just or fair for us to receive the treatment and the narrow description we have been dis-positioned with!

Wow! You just brought out all my thoughts! :P

regards,

Makepeace.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Me lose weight? How about you lose some steam?!




I really meant to get down tonight to writing a book review. But instead I'm just gonna be doing a review of our times and culture today. An article on women and their weight obsession, so appropriately titled 'The Big Issue' by Shane Watson, got my attention and concentration in a focussed manner from the flying rages of frustration and resentment it has been infesting in my head for so long now.

Since about 6 years now, I've been constantly nagged by my parents and relatives to, "GO LOSE SOME WEIGHT!". The way they put it, you would think it was a pound of apples that I could just drop down somewhere. Relatives have an infamous reputation for poking their noses in place where its really none of their business. They've always had one bone or the other to pick with me and luckily enough for them, this bone became their livelihood.

No, I'm not such a repressed person to only find the space in a blog to vent and diss my relatives but especially after reading the linked article, a lot of dots started connecting.


"There is a lot of confusion about this weight fascism. We blame fashion. We blame models. We blame ageism and advertising and celebrity. But who stands to gain from ostracising women because they are too curvaceous or too thin? Other women, that’s who: women who mistrust their own sex and who lack confidence in themselves".
The women in my family - lovely as they are, charming as they can be - are not really the most progressive of their times. Mind you, they are made of steel but only so rigidly moulded in a socio-economically backward society's stereotypical roles and expectations. I, the darkest sheep in this herd, turned out different - in some advantaged ways that are glorified and many other ill fitting ways that are collectively abhorred. You guessed the latter! 


It sounds condescending but I realized that for all the times I felt judged and so cruelly evaluated, they were balancing off the remarks I get of being 'smart' and 'ambitious'. For everytime that I'm a hard working girl focussed with her goals, I'm a fat 'no looker' who's going to have a tough time pleasing (or even getting) a husband 'coz I wouldn't cook for him. Because they're dolled up as Barbie now but will not be after two kids and hence, must find their Ken (or someone who comes even an inch closer) 'coz they couldn't rely on their own worn out potential for enough of life's luxuries. This is exactly how women are pitted against each other. While they think I have excess meat oozing out of my buttons, I think all their meat went to their heads!

Nigella is right! Men don't pull these on you (save the "Your Momma So Fat" jokes), although I know a few who do exceptionally care a little bit more. But I also know a lot of smart, intelligent (and as beautiful) women for whom its not the defining identity. My rant also connects well with Nigella when she says,

"Perhaps this is all about how we define ourselves as women. Should we be at home, baking cakes? Should we be binding our pregnancy bumps in the boardroom? If we can turn all our anxieties about how we should be living our lives into a fight about our size, then maybe that is our way of coping".


I believe I've come from a place of inherent feminism but don't swarm a world where it is a natural disposition. So I pride myself over having fought against a lot of odds yet this is still something I need to overcome as a woman. To synthesize my feelings with what I believe i.e. to not beat up myself over not being a certain size I'm told I should be. 


"In the fat camp are those who represent the forces of goodness and womanliness, or indulgence and ill discipline, depending on where you stand on the scales; in the skinny camp are the savvy, fit, modern girls, or the life-deniers – if you’re not so thin yourself. The size you are is a statement of your entire life philosophy, and the gulf between the two camps is filled with fear and misunderstanding. It is war, ladies, and it is our war. We are making enemies of each other on the basis of body shape".


Ladies, lets grow up from these 'girly' battles of skinny bitches vs. fat cow!




What's beautiful is beautiful, whether or not perfect.