Just to Ponder @ 2

Sometimes I feel that the basic amenity of life is trust. Everything revolves around it, be it business, education, love, family, friendship...it all starts with the trust you place on the other person.

And ironically, its this trust that one can't place in people. No matter how much you test a person, measure them upside down, shake them up and study closely, there always remains a loophole. A need to reconfirm.

I feel I learnt it the hard way.

There are always those deep dark secrets you carry around. Actions and reactions, moments of weakness, stupidities, and thee quick recovery methods you take up, ain't there?

In the end of it all, after getting out of the state of shock and the state of depression we realize, "Holy shit. What did I do?" And then we worry about the future, about the things to come, the consequence to face.
And we realize that we are in neck deep shit.
In the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald, "Cracked like an old plate."

It's real bad you know. This feeling of loss raised to the power two. The one incurred by trying to get out of the other.
And herein comes the third mistake. We try to find solace. In the process we begin to trust people. And in the due process we find one genuine person, at least who we think is genuine, and we spill our hearts out.
And feel the relief flooding in.

And then one day, we find that very person standing across with those against you.
Here the gut wrenching loss to the power infinity, and think, "Shit man, what the hell was I thinking?!"
The worst part is you will never know whether they spilled the heart u spilled to the rest in the form of beans, but the insecurity will always eat you away.

And then you learn the hard way that its better to have things kept buried in. And not let it out. And let your insides burn up in that acidic reaction.
It's better to have that misdeed you did at first kill you rather than have it shared and joked about.

Trust my friend...well...remains an impenetrable unsolvable mystery. For all ages to come, I presume.

Just To Ponder.

Beauty. The need of it however much refuted, is always sought. The defined conceptions make some the "other". The ones accepted almost always make it a point to declare their victory.

It also happens that the colonialist conception of "White is Beautiful" has still not died out.
And one finds solace in Nadine Gordimer's description of the White skin. They are like plain white paper she says. Like an incomplete picture. Whereas we, the "colored" ones are the complete painting. Full of hues and complete.

I hate to admit but yes I suffer from the terrible complex from having the worst skin possessed by human flesh. There is nothing I have not had on my face. Well, almost. And I am trying to grow into that phase where I just won't care. Because I have so much more than your looks.

So, I'll see you when you wash my car.
*smug wink*

The Eunuch Rises.

Where the hell does it stop?!
You walk on roads, you get it there.
You wait for a bus , you get it there.
You get on the bus, you get it there too.

I can't go on writing where all you get it, because the moment you step out of your house, the male population around you seems to waiting to get a share of whatever you can offer. An "excusable slip" of the hand, a remark to testify how bloody horny they are, or they might just rape you with their eyes.

Here is a recent "event" of my life. While coming back from my college, wondering about the number of assignments to be done, and abusing a few teachers in my head, I felt a whack on my cheek. And no, it was not the almighty's command to behave myself, it was some *&^%*#@ who wanted to have his share of fun. Of course stoning is entertaining.

What I wonder about is how the hell do you vent your urges by stoning people?! Not that frisking and fondling girls in buses is going to help much, but stoning?

The worst part remains that many blame people from small towns, illiterates and the likes. But this evil cannot be blamed on any part of society as such. In the poshest areas of the city, while waiting for dad, in broad daylight, there was a guy standing next to me, on a Harley Davidson Fat Bob.
Talking on his phone in fluent English he was asking about some graduate course.
And before leaving, with a smug look on his face, he had a question for me too, "Maal degi kya?"

And you if belong to the lot who thinks clothes provoke people, I only wear kurtis.
And the argument is useless anyway. We women should be raping half the population of the city by now, with the number of them peeing on the road!

Bloody hell dammit, maybe YOU think it's a mans world.
But I choose to live here anywhich way I choose.
**** you.