If people are "made for each other", I refuse to be made for you.

For some time now, I have tried hard to figure out why exactly I get so worked up and offended every time my mother gives me "advice".  In many ways, its a typical mother-daughter conflict (when my father is present, he only sort of lamely chimes in to indicate support to mum and tries to leave), and yet I cannot help sensing that what my mother says- and what I react to- point at things that are wayy beyond either of ours' purview, understanding or control. 




Before  I get further into it however, I must declare that I take my mother to be a terribly intelligent woman. Her mathematical powers, her memory, and her critical intelligence are extremely up above average, and her astute sensibility, wit and perceptiveness make her a delightful companion. And she's really broad minded given her parochial childhood and upbringing. I write this rather defensive description so that you do not, as we so often do in these moments, incorrectly dismiss her as some un-feminist, ignorant woman. 




That said, I'm now going to quote her in translation;  It's something she once told me at an impressionable age, and I believe it is one of those things that get passed down mother to daughter for centuries- quite understandably so, since its such a convenient euphemism to a rather ugly truth. Here it is. 




"Women are like precious gems- it is absurd to believe they can exist without a  possessor(!). If a diamond lies unclaimed, people [notice in this sentence how woman translates as the object, and man translates as 'people'] will first wonder why nobody owns it, and shortly after, they will act, as if it were up for grabs"




Horrifying. Not because its sexist and totally degrading, but because, with each passing year, I have seen affirmations of this 'aphorism' consistently. If you're a woman, and you've walked at some point on an Indian street by yourself, you'll know what my mum said is quite literally true. No matter how long your sleeves are, and how many layers of clothing you have on to avoid attention(in the blazing Indian temperatures, mind); if you look young and unmarried, men will stare you down until you cannot BUT feel ashamed.




Because this shame inducing objectification (you're not human but a 'tempting object with your boobs and legs) is not defined anywhere as abuse that can be tangibly fought against, Indian girls consequently learn from the start to be totally frigid and to close off their sexuality (as best as they can) from a man's gaze. (I could go on a tangent from here, but its really depressing, so I won't.) 




So, with all those offensive, ubiquitous reminders of male sexuality that are far from exciting or flattering, why are these women so aggressively heterosexual and heteronormative? In the twentieth century? Why do they crave, from the earliest they could, for a boy's eternal love? Or at the very least (do pardon my cynicism), for an ostentatious wedding?




I have a penchant for conspiracy theories, and the converse of them. Do bear with me. 




I feel like women instinctively know they are up for sale (which is another way of saying they are up for grabs). They know their utter objectification can be put to an end with an interjection of a male figure (indeed just walking next to a guy cuts down the staring by like 80 % on the street). My theory is that somehow when a man makes a claim for them, (women in south India wear a HUGE ugly gold chain to mark their "spoken for" status), they will be delivered from the shame of being treated as objects. And this effort at de-objectfication is sociologically internalized, and informs a construction of the female gender, so to speak. How they must behave, conduct themselves is clearly cut. If anything, this is apparent in how deeply with relief the parents sigh when their daughter is finally married. Because with marriage, women belong, both to a man and in society, and they become people of worth, gems that are hence proudly displayed.  







(disclaimer: The above cannot be taken as me saying indian women are sexless. I'm not saying that.) 

Laughing, and intermittently speaking, people were having a great evening, relieved that the day’s exertions were over. And among these new people, I felt- for once- thoroughly peaceful. Inexpressibly so. Each countenance glowed with good spirit that was undoubtedly enhanced, if not generated, by a common experience of utter contentment in the wake of hitherto unfamiliar souls.

We were, I think, greatly relieved to be away from network reception, away from the ghosts and live monsters that eat into our city lives, away from Worry & Care.

Care, I wonder. Our parents bring us up with such care; attending to every detail, pruning every unwanted development… do they get the perfection they seek/deserve? I doubt it. In nature however, everything grows wild and apparently unattended to, and yet such perfection! The mountains, the stars, the trees… there is so much beauty, so much symmetry in every product of Nature!

Not for the first time, and not in small measure, I felt this eloquent poem.

… The breeze was cold, but friendly. The sun had almost set. We couldn’t see the moon-rising; perhaps the mountains blocked it from us. I walked away, wanting to be alone for a bit. It was breathtaking, but I did not take in the details … Soon, darkness would fall like a heavy blanket, and I would be back, trying to concentrate as my friend pointed out the milkyway and all those constellations.

At the moment, I had plunged deep, deep into a newfound liberation, or perhaps an assertion for myself, bereft of all guilt. I began to understand that I was, like everybody else, quite alone. Alone, I described my situation to myself, in a beautiful universe, with no one to go back home to. No one to please, no one to care for.

I experienced this thought like never before. Indeed, I thought, as the examples of my life flashed before me, it’s selfish to believe we live our lives for others. The might of Existentialist thought stands by this, but I will desist from describing it as anything but a deep, personal moment.

I couldn’t measure- I can’t express- how it felt to know that I had with me everything, everything I needed to be happy in this world. I had Me.

...I love it when it rains. Today especially, it fell in sheets. Seemingly unaffected by wind current and just the kind i like to stare through....The best thing about bangalore is that come 33-34 degrees, and beautiful, beautiful showers wash all of it away..... We drove out and caught the city's skyline yesterday. It's no rain forest, but the (surprising) levels of green was more than thrilling.

I love my city.

Great summer. Happy stuff, Lots of stories, ranging from dad's place(s) of work to babies being born, from forgiveness to new insights to happiness being found.

The point? All good. And as you can see, nothing to "blog". Lets just hope it remains that way.

Welcome to MeaningOfLife 101...

.....We've got Nothing.


You may collect your schedules and resource sheets at the desk in the front of the room. Thank you.
(A LOT more than your 10 credits' worth might be needed. You may get ready to HELP!)

So what kind of a nut job are you?

(And all this btw makes PeopleLikeMe, the mild borderline cases of this so passé. .)

But the pain? I feel for you. Its really a cruel world. However.

Even I don't get it this time. Yes, even Me, the professed Gets-It-All of social pain(!).

Beg Pardon, but it really sounds just a tad ridiculous.

--> "You are facing a serious condition of SNAD". WTF. Seriously? :O

Or maybe I'm at a really un-empathetic place right now. Happiness does that to people. So.. a conclusion to this?- Each to his own weirdness, maybe. So if this is real, Hang in there. The good news is, there's nothing you cannot get over. Intriguing and singular. The mind, it is.

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Later. Or not, for a while. Take care, yo.