November 27, 2008

Stillborn

Under the twinkling summer sky
There is a fly inside my eye
Which grows into a great big log
On it sits a pregnant hog
Oh ho ho says the sow
And takes off into the wild
I tie my woe into a bow
And weep for the stillborn child

November 22, 2008

10 Answers to Is There a God?

1. Drunk Friend at Bar: Dude, why are you asking me this? You always come up with some weird, deep-thought shit to ruin my fun. I don't know, man. Hell, I don't care. I think I'm like an anogonistic or whatever. Wait. Sometimes I talk to God though. Usually while chewing E so I guess that's not valid. Anyway, screw it. Beer?
(I think he meant "agnostic". We downed a couple of drinks and I left with a headache and a new word.)

2. Small Pimply Indignant Righteous Girl: How can you ask me that? Of course I believe in God. I go to church on Sunday. It is Obligatory. I say the Rosary and Novena everyday. One bended knees. I never open more than one eye, and that's only to make sure the family is watching. See this Scapular around my neck? I know my Catechism teacher told you to secretly spy on me. Well, go back right now and tell her that I have not failed in my Christian duties. I will be like Mother Mary till the end, even when I am no longer young and beautiful but old and boring with tremors and severe depression. Too bad for all those lowly shitheads who only care about lip gloss and handbags. They'll wind up in Hell. Oh shit, I just said "shitheads". Now I have to go do forty days of penance for bad language. This is your fault. You make me sick. For all this, I'll go to Heaven when I die and God will give me more gold than that silly boy next door who lives with his alcoholic mother. He doesn't even know Psalm 293.
(I need to find that Catechism teacher and tell her something's wrong somewhere but I don't know what. It might have been that kid's extreme paranoia… or maybe just her voice. Pretty nauseating child. And greedy as hell.)

3. Guy on the Pavement: A divine secret is about to be revealed in this place. I AM He you are looking for. I AM God. And I'll grant you just one favor for thousand bucks. In cash. I don't give credit. And there's extra if you want something from out of town or if it's non-materialistic or worth more than fifty bucks.
(I searched my pockets. Only five bucks. He'll have to wait till I save up and get back. I really need some aspirin.)

4. Desperate Housewife: Yes, there is a God. He gave me children and an amazing husband. My husband is cheating, and the kids are retarded, but at least we have a roof over our heads. Even though we live with my parents and they stay at the old-age nursing home. Hubby cheats on me because I don't deserve him. God gives us suffering so we become better, you know. Then we can suffer more. I believe so strongly in overcoming our trials so we become able to experience greater and more violent tribulation. I enjoy the heartbreak, I say, bring it on, because it is good and beautiful and pure.
(She is crazy, that lady. I didn't like her version of God. It sounded kind of desperate, if you know what I mean.)

5. Pretty Girl with 1000 Piercings: There is the One, and He lives across town. And we too can become the One, but we have to pay him to go through every step. And you have to get a piercing everytime. It's to allow the Meevatron particles to come from Up Above and get conducted through the piercings. The Particles are part of the Unknown Secret Plot to Make People Think Meevatrons Actually Exist. We eventually have so many piercings that we give up and just become Silver People. The One is the Great Silver Person. He has 73829 piercings and only listens to Hilary Duff. Want to join us? There are seven of us in this congregation. We alone know The One is The One. Others just think he's out to make money because he owns a silver shop.
(I think I'll pass on this Scientology off-shoot sect. But I know now where to go for a piercing. Just follow the Meevatrons.)

6. Junkie Traveler Dude:
God is in the sunrise
God is in the wind
God is in the ocean
God is in the rind
God is in the tallest mountain
God is in the apple pie
God is in the red bean bag
God is in the moldy rye
(There were 68 more verses but I walk away. I can't bear obscurity. And I really can't bear lame rhyming "Cat with a Hat on a Mat" poetry. Jeez man, go spoon the moon in June or something.)

7. Stoned Guy: No. No God. All life is an illusion. This world, this very universe you think exists, is an illusion. These books are an illusion. This table is an illusion. You are an illusion. See, I can put my hand right through you and you won't even know it.
(He tries to grab me then. Stupid asshole. I don't think he was that stoned. I don't even think he knew what "illusion" meant. Stupid asshole)

8. Intelligent Emo Girl in a Dark Scary Room: This life is meaningless. Where was God when they gang-raped that little kid? Where was God when plague wiped out millions of European lives? Where was God when they decapitate soldiers fighting for the only thing they believe in and made videos of them dying? Was God sitting on a rollercoaster and looking the wrong way? Was he eating burgers and telling funny stories to the Angels? No. He cannot exist. No one can willingly be silent, knowing that there is so much cruelty and pain in the world. This life, therefore, is an accident. It is worthless. I reject it.
(She swallows a pill, turns blue and dies. I hold her body and weep.)

9. Football Jock/Captain of the Basketball Team/Lowest SAT score Guy: Like, there's a God, see. I mean, like, he's this big guy with a beard and like, a white long dress and all. And, like, he wears this huge crown thing, and he kinda is, like, the ruler of the world. Like, he can point his finger, and totally like zap you off the planet. Sometimes, like, he can zap like a hundred people at the same time. Cool, yeah? I need to, like, get some ass now. All this talking has got me, like, totally, like, you know, horny.
(Dude, read a book some time. They have pages and things and you find them at stores. I turn to leave and immediately get crushed under the stampeding, squealing, cheerleader-like girls rushing to fulfill his needs. Bad.)

10. The Crow: I think God exists. If only because you need an incredibly smart person to make such incredibly stupid humans. It's so much easier to believe in The Creator than that I came from a monkey or sea-weed. There is so much we do not know.

November 14, 2008

Drunk Conversation

I'm itching to stop that professor mid-sentence and tell him about last night. I'd say, "Excuse me, Sir. I was out drinking with your son yesterday, when I suddenly threw up all over him in the midst of an intense discussion on the modern-day implications of classical Russian literature. So don't tell me nothing." That should wipe that sneer off his face.

November 07, 2008

Things NOT to Say Around Fat Girls

Note: Most of this is true. It happened to me.

While shopping at the mall, and she needs to pick up underwear. Don't say, even if you are really concerned, “Hmmm, aren't those a little bit small for you? They must be really stretchable, huh”. No, they are just the right size, and no, the elastic does not wear out after one go. And no, no, NO, we don't sneak back in the middle of the night to exchange these for a much, much larger size. We are not made that way. We sleep quite well, and most of the time we snore.

On the same vein, while shopping for clothes, and you stop to check out some stuff. If she really, really likes a shirt, don't start yelling to the shop guy at the top of your voice, “Hey, do you have an extra large in that?”. When we say we like that top, we mean that we are quite confident that it will fit and that we will look pretty good in it.

When eating at the mall, and she asks you if you want dessert, don't say, “Down girl! Damn, you need to watch them thighs.”. Not only will she order dessert for both of you, she will throw yours on your smug little thin face, eat hers up till the plate is dry and leave you to pay. She'll also order five different types of chocolate things to take away so you better have a full wallet. Fat does not mean stupid.

When she's hurrying quickly across the sports store without looking up at the treadmills, dumbbells, jump ropes, etc, that means that you should hurry with your face averted too. It isn't a good time to say, “Hey babe, wanna see how much you weigh?”. She will stop, turn around and abruptly sit on your dessert-coated sorry face. After abruptly putting a towel on it of course. That will be the Exercise of the Day. And a job well done. Hmpfh.

When she sees you looking at a SLIGHTLY thinner girl, try not to say, “Whaaat? You look sooooo much better than THAT anorexic bitch!” Not only will she instantly know that you are a lying cheat and a moron and a loser and a messed-up-fake-shallow-lover-of-skinny-chain-smoking-cheap-hoes, she will also start stress-eating. A lot. Immediately. AND casually while holding a giant chicken leg in one hand, she'll dunk your flattened, butterscotch-cake-covered face in the toilet. Yeah. That will hurt, won't it. So don't dare do that roving eye act around her. Fat girls are strong.

And finally, here are a list of things that only require the word “No”. Mindlessly.
Do you think I'm not thin?
Do you think this dress makes me look too, you know, not thin?
Do you mind if I take some/all of your chicken?
Do you mind if I take some/all of your pudding?
Do you mind if I, uh, have some more of your chicken? And your pudding?
Do you like thin girls?
Do you think I'm thin? (STOP! Trick question! Fat girls can be cunning too.)

Remember, fat girls are human. We have feelings, emotions and larger-width mirrors. Give us our due. Or at least give us our daily bread. With a triple order of fries and four large Cokes.

November 03, 2008

In the Valley

She sat in the corner and smiled
Madonna of the classroom
Lost her heart to the town jester
Now struggles to claim her own

Did anyone look to see
The rotting of a psyche
In the desire to please

She wears a pretty veil in her valley
The smile must go on

The Struggle for Democracy

Democratic country, my ass. We are a floundering-in-shit, confused and greedy nation. I know so many Indians who go abroad, saying they can't stand it any longer. As a friend put it, "If life is easier elsewhere, and you have you to work less to have a better existence, then why not?" I only had scorn for people like that. They were traitors. Traitors to the place they were born in, traitors to their childhood memories, traitors to the land that taught them all they knew. Worthless people who were not aware of their identity. I was wrong. Now I'm tired and worn-out. I am not proud of my country. Not anymore. Go I tell, as I see them off at the airports. Do well. Be amazing. I turn my back on the dizzying lights and walk into darkness again. The cries of the roadside beggars are magnetic.

India is made up of mostly villages. We have made progress, we are told excitedly. We are going to the moon. We have Louis Vuitton and Gucci outlets. We have so many multi-national companies working here that we have lost count. We have it made. True, if you consider a handful of metros. Bombay, Bangalore, Delhi, Chennai. Tiny oases in the ocean of ignorance. Think about it. In any good-sized town in India, count the number of girls who wear jeans. The percentage will hardly be about 2 or 3. And they are either the town sluts or "rich family girls". The average Indian woman, then, wears only ethnic clothing, namely salwars or saris. Happy that we follow traditions? Very. Democracy for women? No. But how? A closer look at the situation will give you an answer. Walk into a crowded marketplace in any part of India wearing tight-fitting clothes and see the reaction. The men stare. They will turn from their positions to gape, catching your eyes, then ogling at your breasts. If you stop to talk, they converse with them too. Some young men, barely boys, will walk past and accidently rub against you. I feel violated but so helpless. It's an attempt at submission. Wear these clothes, and we WILL intimidate you. Go back to your traditional garb. Then you will earn respect, then you will be Indian. What happened to freedom to wear what you want? What happened to progressiveness and tolerance? Isn't that a key element of democracy? We have failed so miserably then.

We all know about dowry. The money and gifts the bride has to bring the groom on the day they get married. What surprises me is how casual people are about it. It is a great and mighty bridge, this horrible custom of ours. Everyone believes in it, the old, the young, the rich, the educated. Even all our metro people. There are laws against its practice, but oh how united we are when it comes to the wrong things. Dowry IS wrong. Period. It's actually illegal and you know that. There are several cases registered every week for dowry harrassment deaths. Untold accounts of unhappy women being tortured for more money by her husband or his parents, often resulting in years of quiet unhappiness. Even if there is no torture, there is silent, communal pressure. I personally know so many girls whose dads live abroad, alone, away from family, just to make enough money so their daughters have good marriages. It's about prestige too, you know. The hypocrisy forms an exclusive circle. It happens around me, in the very medical fraternity I live with. Look at these physicians. Men of learning, men who read intellectual novels, hold intense debate on philosophical things. Men of morals, men held in high respect in the community. They take dowry. Hell, they take the MOST dowry because they are doctors, the healers of suffering, the highest in the job chain. And the women. How hard they fought to get to where they are. They have degrees in medicine, in forensics, in surgery. She holds a scalpel like a sword. She paints like Raphael. She undertakes cuttting-edge research on obscure subjects. She is brilliant. But she gives dowry. She says, how else will I get a good husband? Our democracy is full of farts. Big, smelly ones.

We give bribes to get certificates. We give bribes to put our kids in the best schools. We give bribes to put them in medical colleges. We give bribes to get exam papers in advance. We give bribes to get bribes. We give and give and give, corrupting our land a little more with each outstretched hand. The wealthy get away with it and the poor drown in the dry bitterness of it all. Our educations are a lie. Our very knowledge is stolen and deceitful. What right do we have to tell the children to live right, when corruption runs through our veins? What right do you we have to walk upright and say I'm better than him, knowing that you're just richer and that the whole thing is wrong, wrong wrong? Look at our fellowmen. We love evil. We relish money more than justice, food more than honor, esteem more than courage. Our battle is stale. Our ideology, mainly grand words. We are not fooling anyone.

Yet there are strong people. A single man of integrity who will make up for a hundred lost souls. We are slowly moving forward. I will stay. I will put up a fight. I realize that not all can endure, not all can rise to the call. But I will struggle because I can. I will try to have integrity. I will hope that my neighbors are good men. I hope I'll never give dowry. I hope I'll teach my kids to respect women and understand true freedom. And I pray for my country. That more people will realize what it means to be part of the Democratic Republic of our beautiful India. That they will work for the nation we can be, without looking for momentary reward or cheap pleasure. Some day, I want to say, we did our part. I want to be proud of my country again.