Languidly Cynical

I’m not a romantic but I’m not one of those cynics either who discredit the phenomenon of love completely. I am one of those cynics who believe in the existence of romantic love but know that its existence is almost Utopian, that very lucky few will experience it in its true sense. I’m the one who, when they hear their friends say “I’m in love…”, can’t help thinking- ‘Love’? Yeah okay. Let’s see how long that idea lasts.

But admittedly, I don’t hate love songs. They make me believe in a make-believe world of perfect people where love in its purest form exists. In that world, a sincere man wearing a hat says “It cannot wait… It is our fate, I’m yours”; a lonely guy promises to wait to two more years for his girl and promises to pay the bills with his guitar; a goofy teenager loves his girlfriend’s flaws because it’s her it all adds up to and the bottom line is he’s in love with her; and a man asks a woman to let him love her until she learns to love herself. Nobody in that world calls a woman (no matter how endearingly) “shorty” or “bitch” or refers to her ‘ass’ or use any crude/ filthy innuendos. These things may or may not happen in the real world, but that doesn’t mean that I will hate listening about something as wonderfully happy. For the same reason I also believe in- Santa Claus, inheriting money from a rich unheard-of relative, my favourite pair of shoes never wearing out, the non-existence of politics, me being a dog-whisperer, dogs going to heaven, being fit without working out because climbing stairs to the office once-a-day is exercise enough, and accidentally running into Bradley Cooper and us getting along fabulously. I could go on but I won’t digress.

So, if a toddler listens to these love songs and sets high standards dreaming about the perfect partner who plays the piano and says “You’re amazing just the way you are”, I say, let them. The real world needs them to stop making bad life decisions that affect them permanently at an age when they don’t even know how to spell ‘prophylactic’.

And if you truly believe in perfect romantic love and soul mates, I envy your rose-tinted glasses.

And if you have lived it, well… good for you. Now go back to living in the Diana Ross-Lionel Ritchie song, you don’t belong here.



My Newfound Ariel Castro Fear

Throughout history, women have learnt to strive for independence and break the bondages of the being treated as a second class citizen by the dominating gender of the dominating species. But all the movements and the radical changes in the society and its thinking has done nothing to upgrade the mentality of the sexual deviants. If anything, it has encouraged them even more. According to a study, 1 out of 8 women admitted to being raped in their lifetime, in 1992. Now, according to a recent study, 1 out of every 5 women is raped every year. Which means if you know 20 women, there will be atleast 4 of them who have either been raped or have been a victim of attempted rape. What’s more scary is that, if they haven’t, then, statistically, they will be. So now, when I go out, I worry not only about getting mugged, being stabbed, getting run over by a truck or a bus, being held hostage by a terrorist group at the mall, being buried alive under the debris of a fallen building, dying, but also about being eve-teased, being misbehaved with, raped, kidnapped and raped and sold for sex trafficking, kidnapped and raped and killed, kidnapped and raped and held captive for 10 years while chained to a wall.

Yes, women can vote now and we are equal wage earners as any man doing the same work as us. But what have we really accomplished as a moral society? As I see it, not all women are working because they choose not to, they can, but they don’t; not all women vote, they can but they are just so lazy (guilty as charged), but ALL women want to feel safe, unfortunately we can’t. So, our accomplishments from my point of view, Dear Society, have been few. If given a choice, I would rather not feel threatened every time I have to walk to the nearest supermarket, than be allowed to inherit my father’s property. Although, I am not complaining about the latter (= .