Learning to lech at women.

I started this learning in a very cross state. I had to give up believing that women were also human beings (like children and men) Its a learning that happened because of an accident that paralyzed me for roughly three years. I was on bed with plasters and I could only see the world through another pair of eyes.(a particular man's eyes) I don't know if I am grateful for this learning. It has given me shameless eyes that zoom into a extreme close up as soon as a woman comes in the visibility range. A lot of my friends tell me that they get embarrassed by this leching. I try to explain that I am not leching for myself. I do it to perfect my understanding of the Maletric system of judging women.

So this man I learned from looked at women everywhere and kept imparting his judgments(maletric offcourse!). At traffic lights, in the plane aisles, at the hotel lobbies, in his office, in his veranda, in the studio. I dont know if the women who passed his examinations did better in life than the ones who flunked it completly. I however know that he was nicer to the ones who scored high on this mailtric system! He gave them better chances, praised them more often and yes he engaged with the hi scorers.I don't know if I failed or passed. I have had to work terribly hard to get over my preoccupation of scoring at (his/our) this test. Every point that I losed broke my heart. And offcourse I lost more points than I could have let go off!

I write this because I dont much like the way I look at women these days. I want to go back to the times when pretty women were just pretty women and not a pair of boobs competing against another!The old way of seeing them was so much more comfortable.But this judging is a trait that came from my old company. It kind of started gaining presence in me. After all it was a well defined universal system of measuring desirability of women.Besides it was goddamn empowering to just look at the boobs and never have to hear and engage with these other human beings!

So I started by copying that Stare ## Scanning 123........Too old*. Too Fat* Big boobs* small boobs* oh wow boobs* Great body* Dumb Fuck* Easy fuck* Rich bitch* Smart Bitch* Sweet girl* Powerful bitch*  Put her in a sack and hand it to me bitch*. Sweet talk kind*  Sad kind*  Eager kind*  Enthusiastic type* Married* Divorced*  With kids* deserves attension*  Ignore*  Vulnerable* Needy* Desperate!* Beautiful*  Ugly* Looked pretteir when she was slimmer*

It seeped into one. Offcourse women werent exactly human beings(They had two dangling boobs, legs and eyes and lips!) The whole (male) Universe had these gradings.The 'Maletrick system'. So the first rule was to figure out women. It wasnt an easy thing to learn. One flinched. A human being of whatever age was being sliced into a woman(boobs legs eyes and lips) And their stories always began with their boobs.(or whatever else flashed first in front of those eyes. mostly it was boobs)

So I remeber the first time those eyes grew warm at a yellow nylon shirt clad dumb bengali chic(yes there are! such ones too!) My eyes saw a being fumbling for words,with no hold on the language,  making silly arguments, pouting too much at lips and chest. Then the alter eyes took over- Great figure, 5feet 6 inches tall. Maroon lipstick. cheap hire. Interseting! Get her on.

That dusky thin girl with a dour smile. The alter eyes saw nothing. Drooping boobs, too much reticence, too much intelligence! Sorry we are closed!

The pretty girl with crooked teeth who smiled everytime she didnt catch sense? Yeah! The alter eyes remeber her. She wore nice transparent white tops and smiled coyly everytime looked at. Now that is innocence!

That intelligent girl with braces?( Hmm nice but you see wouldnt think of kissing her right so 5 marks down!)

That hardworking woman who stayed up the nights with an ill child? (It didnt exactly add to her ageing skin or make her a pleasant presence no?)

The whorish tall one who smelled of hairdye all the time?(Well she was good to sit beside on the sofa you know but she spoke so much that she could have nibbled away one's ear!)

The big boobed dumb one.( Big boobs can get tiring beyond a point!)

So I got on the same page with that man. I have his eyes in me now! It destroyed my eyesight. I wear big glasses now. I have  learnt forever the language of grading women. It has left me with a very low opinion of myself( there are always more luscious boobs and pouting lips walking around on longer legs!) But I can do it to other women, what those eyes did to me!

The twisted ABC train..

A is for abuse!

B is for Because I dont have a better word for it!

C is for Come-on dont tell me you didnt know this is what happens!

D is for Daddy didn’t know

E is for enough. It was enough long time back!

F is for fuck off now!

G is for gagging that you are so good at.

H is for Hang ups~ your and mine

I is for the I that I forgot in all this. Hope it’s alive.

J is for ‘Just this is what you get!'

K is for KILL YOU for it.

L is for love. The subterfuge to all this abuse

M is for Mom who kept suspecting that all wasn’t well.

N is for Never thought it could happen to me

O is for the Orgasm that you dint quite reach despite all this

P is for piss in your pants and the stench of it

Q is for quail’s feather in your arse.

R is for Real life- It happens real life but becomes surreal.

S is for Sanity lost ad interim.

T is for Tear on my system

U is for Utopis- sick utopias about how it would get better!

V is for Violence

W is for Wtf?

X is for Xrated human being! Hiding behind layers of sophistication

Y is for Yes it happened

Z is the end of story. Thank god!

Be my Calender Boy Mr Kingfisher!

Dear Mr Mallya,

As I stare uncomfortably at the Kingfisher calenders protruding out of nooks of the worktables of offices,I feel a tweaking tinge of irritation threatening to blow up into anger! Scantily dressed Barbie dollish women twining around a creepers, bathing in scanty waterfalls. All women beautifully shortchanged in this whole process(the ones being parading in the calenders,ones who start aspiring to be in these calenders, the ones who will never make it to these calenders(not to be forgetting the ones who write pieces such as on 'the calender')

This heady sense of exclusivity that money can offer, The cameras transforming
penis's into lens! the models exclusive pedigree like some sort of hybrid horses/or bitches. Your Big Idea of harnessing these natural resources in a calender!( boobs bellies and and legs of of pretty young nubile women) Everybody loves these calenders I am told so whats my problem with this kind of exclusive high art? My problem Mr Kingfisher is that I think It is a bad show! And i hate it when it gets plastered around the walls! Why should I be forced to indulge your fantasies(or of those who aspire to be like you?!)?

I am not impressed at all! Why should your constipated art take the place of honour in my terrain? Why should my opinion be held any lesser value than yours? I am the customer king Mr King of goodtimes! I buy your beer, fly your airline,and watch your channel!

My calenders ought to have a certain standard! I don't want these neo'rich babes crowding my breathing space. I like Royalty! I think you would make a very interesting calender boy! That royal ruddy shining on your skin(like burnishing gold! literally!!!) I even think if you were to bare your belly on an exotic location my fantasies may spiral up till the sky! Your smile is so sexy too. I want to see you smile at me on my table top. And those layers of flab on your shoulders never matter to anyone, they are soo big with power. Let me see you stretch for me till the two ends of the horizon just like your property. I soo like you rich stinking money body odor man! Why cant you dance naked on the beach for me(and for those other women who pay for your beer in their hard earned cash!) Lets carve out fair terms of service now! Give me a fair worth for what I pay! Dance naked for me old man I(we) will bathe you in money too, and I dont mind real life blemishes and old age!


Looking forward to some good times

(Not on your calender) woman

Lost Homes

At 26 its hard to get over lost homes.I thought not counting would make me forget them better. But every lost home takes away parts of I am not young enough to loose with so much grace. I snout pout beg beseech and curse now! For every cut that is made on to me. And yet who can shout out all the pain of loosing a home?
I miss those white walls everyday. I wonder if they miss me too.Maybe I even hate them for not missing me! They were stark the first time I saw them. Stark white with rough patches. And yet they invited one with a purpose. I entered. I didn't like it for a long time. It was a rough place just not the kind where you could get comfortable easily. Hardly the kind where you would think of settling down for a long time. But as human beings are silly, they make pets out of foxes and even start talking to walls. So I did! I started talking to walls. And the walls started talking back to me. Sometimes.
Then I thought we were frequently talking. And then one day the walls went silent.
I think I started shouting at the walls then...I was told to leave. There were some new people who had entered and they had now perhaps a new language of talking to the walls. They told me to vacate..Because the walls obviously didnt talk to me anymore. I lost my home and I lost my language.
I still talk to those white walls. I am sure they hear me...I want to know why do they change their language so frequently? I thought homes were supposed to last longer than hearts. Isnt that why people build homes?

Salt~

If it doesnt taste sweet
If it doesnt change color
If it hasnt burnt to become something else
If it doesnt loose taste after all the warm concoctions and freezing indiffrences breathed into it
If it doesnt harm the insides after swallowing
If it tastes bitter compared to other things at your table
If it still sticks to your 'full hands'
If you cant take it back once you've given it
If nobody can buy it nothing can undo it
Its salt!
The little salt that turned into an earring from your hand into mine...

Dear Buddha,

Dear Buddha,

It must be damn cool to be enlightened and all that no?

Tell me how does it feel to wear red all the time? Does the red of your robe not add to the restlessness of being alive? AND if you are at rest all the time? Does it not make you feel dead?
Do alive women not strum at your heartstrings with their energy? Are you menopausal?
Do you never rue the fact that your dad was a small King and died one day?
Did you father a son? Would you have been a happy man without that?
What does a hot jalebi taste like on a hot afternoon?
Does the wet mud smell sweet to you?

I think a lot about you… What do you think of me?

Love
P

Be very scared of me!

I have nothing to loose except my dreams!

I fear for the truth!

When my truth becomes so overpowering that it starts piercing into my veins
when I get up at night with clenched fists...holding the promise of my truth in my hand..it draws blood in my nails....its difficult to go back to sleep at nights these days...
Is it truth or is it madness that is growing within me?
I am helplessly blind as i stare into it to find out...
I have no way of finding out
There are growing shouts of slogans inside me...they shout louder everyday...does anybody else hear it too? Am I the only one who is supposed to be awakened by it...
This rowdy truth..this unflincing state of things within me...
What about the the larger world?
What if its just a pink bubble of stupidity....just a lot of my own shit smoking profound suddenly...and I a poor servant at...must carry it out...because it has fallen on my head..because its grown in my stomach..nurtured on my hopes and desires.
Its looks so precious...
What if it isnt the larger truth?
And I will forever fight everything that tries to break this dream...
The largest truth, the gods truth, the human truth...every logic, every rule, every single thorn on its way...
Its the truth of my dream.
Every thorn in its way pierces me like a dagger...every silly thorn becomes like a tank pointing at me...ready to shred me to pieces...because I have a truth growing in my belly.
and I fear for every truth of this world.

Tell me someday

What were you doing when I sang that song, the best that i have sung so far...
does that song not come back to you on fresh mornings when you want to get on with your new life?
what did you hear when I bared my heart to you.
What do you see when you see me?
How much do I total up to in your MATHEMATICS of life.
Tell me do my prayers reach you?
Does my silent anger cause some irritation in your throat?
Do you feel complete on that mountain with my hopes all floating around your neck..arent you scared that someday they will gather like a noose and strangle your noble thoughts on the world.
Dont you have spirals of our conversation floating around you when somebody talks to you? does it not catch you unaware?
Have people never snapped at you because you were absentminded thinking about me?
tell me someday...why doesnt it happen to you..like it happens to me!

Streets on fire

some days you get up from your reverie and the streets are on fire.
there is anger and violence in the air.
You have been building with your silly heart...and you realise how unworthy the world is....
That is the day you set eveything on fire.
Good riddance to all good hearted madness!
Wake up now!

Mad woman

Am I mad because I dont fit in the plastic labels?
Am I mad if I cant help being young?
Am I mad if dont care about what tomorrow brings?
Am I mad if I am not scared of growing old?
AM I mad if I dont care a damn about how I look?
Am I mad if I dont belong to any place?
Am I mad if I tell you the truth about my life all the time?
Am I mad if I dont care a dime about editing my language?
Am I mad if I swear and shout?
Am I mad if I laugh out loud?
YES I AM MAD!!!
THANKS BUT NO THANKS!

ASSUME NOTHING!

YOU THINK I AM THAT!
like that?
really????
what makes you think like that?
what makes you so sure?
did i ever say that?
well i could have been kidding?
or who knows??? maybe evn i dont know...
just that I dont understand "this" in you ..
which makes you so sure about life...
should i call it arrogance?
or have you lived a long tiring life?
which has jaded you!
alas my friend ...no excuse is good enough!
all i have to say to you....
ASSUME NOTHING :)

WHY I DONT MIND BEING LABELED AS A FEMINIST!

It hurts when
What we look like is more important than what we are doing
if we get raped its our fault
if we get bashed we must have provoked it
if we raise our voices we are nagging bitches
if we enjoy sex we are nymphos
if we don’t we are frigid
if we love women its because we cant get a real man
if we want to get married we are out to trap a man
if we don’t, we are unnatural
if we stand up for our rights we are aggressive and “unfeminine”
if we don’t we are typical weak females!!!!!!!!
its been a madd madd world so far...and i dont mind drawing out my dagger and shouting I OBJECT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!