The "Health Regiment"

I know! They are just trying to establish a fresh and flourishing, able-bodied nation, overflowing with health and vitality. Shah! Mara plan ah! I'm still dumb founded by their abounding prodigy!

I just can't believe that people are still complaining. See, it all started with the price increase of bread. The aim of this scheme was to discourage the people from consuming bread and encouraging them to consume red rice, jack fruit, kurakkan and ala, bathla in order to grow strong, fit and sturdy like the Sinhala Yodhayas of the earlier times. But the idiotic people of our country just couldn't take a hint and continued to eat, eat and eat, grow fat and fill themselves with cholesterol continuously. As dismayed as they were, the poor, helpless altruists from across the lake were forced to stoop to more drastic measures. Food prices were further increased as a result and we Sri Lankans, dumb as we are (made dumb by being fed "imperialistic" food according to "imperialist conspiracies" of course) protested and shouted vehemently, blaming these saintly gentlemen to be selfish, corrupted and concerned about nothing else but their own selves. But wrong as we were, they were only thinking of Sri Lankans as a nation, concerned solely about reviving our health and reducing obesity, cholesterol and other such fatal conditions by encouraging lesser eating among the citizens. Tsk, tsk at ourselves people! We were blaming THEM all along!

The benefits of eating raw has been preached time and time again but nobody paid any heed to this valuable advice dished out ever so benevolently all over the island time and time again. Once again, due to the innate stubbornness (and the imperialist induced stupidity of the people) drastic measures were in place. Up went the gas prices, thereby depriving the people, the ability to cook their food over a fire, thereby forcing them to eat raw. However, once again these imbecile Sri Lankans couldn't take a hint as they found alternative methods of cooking their food while others continued to purchase gas at higher prices and refused to conform to this uber healthy suggestion thus presented to the people by their caring, benevolent leaders. One could almost hear sighs of disappointment all the way from across the lake.

It was not long ago that many areas of the country started blossoming with trekking pathways for ordinary people to walk and exercise at leisure. The Independence Square was refurbished with fancy lights, walkways and other paraphernalia, while more trekking paths were budding with great enthusiasm across the country. The disappointing factor was, even after spending a little fortune upon these ventures, the people ever so heartlessly ignored these honest attempts of the authorities of making the citizens walk. Once again, desperate measures were in call to make the people see the light and coax them in to shedding some sweat rather than sitting in their air conditioned vehicles all day. So when the fuel prices hit the roof, the authorities had the pure, pellucid, authentic intention of making people walk more. People grumbled, rebelled and the poor noble souls who lead the country wetted their pants in fear and as precaution, all armed forces were summoned from the North East to Colombo with the aim of controlling the rabid, enraged mobs who have just had enough interventions to last a life time. One such person's brains were blown out while several others just "disappeared" in to murky white vans and that settled the matter it seems. All was at peace once again in our little island haven.

Increasing fuel prices still did not get the people's attention towards the kind of healthy life that they should be living and they still continued to misuse their respective modes of transportation to roam about the country without shedding a bead of sweat. The leaders were evidently saddened by the callous idiocy of the people and yet, they were not ready yet to give up on their beloved citizens who they cherished like their respective bank accounts. In addition to people absolutely refusing to get some exercise, the cities were being grossly polluted by the gases emitted by the ridiculous profusion of honking vehicles roaming the streets in swarms. The authority from across the Diyawanna were in tears with snot dribbling down their noses in steady, lumpy streams. They could not understand how and why the people could be so careless about their health and the health of fellow citizens, not bothering to abandon their air conditioned vehicles, in turn polluting the air as well in the process. All this was atrocious beyond all words of the Malalasekara dictionary put together! The solution came in the form of the increase of vehicle taxes which deprived the ordinary citizen of their ability to purchase a vehicle in this life time. So people MUST walk now, they have no choice!  As one cannot afford a vehicle these days and they cannot afford the bus fare either, what with the increasing of the fuel prices and all, people are forced to walk. What a thoughtful leadership we have and we in turn, must be grateful.

Remember the Nazi Regiment with their rather resolute obsession over the supremacy of the Aryan race, the blond haired, blue eyed kind? Reminiscent of the good ol Nazi days, the single-balled Hitler chap and the gas-conditioned playrooms of his favorite pets, the Jews, today we have a "Healthy Regiment" which shall regulate the population of our little island country, situated far far away from Europe. However, the beauty of the fact is, the "Healthy Regiment" does not discriminate according to race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender or any such deciding factor. Everyone is treated equally in this regiment (except of course the leadership themselves who have so very selflessly decided to sacrifice their own health and bear the brunt of excessive comfort, sucking the people dry of their riches and thereby also their unhealthy habits as a result) Its good health for all!! We are indeed, blessed.

Now with all the excess food and the oil consumption during the Avrudu season, the government is once again very concerned as I heard. The food prices are due to go up once again as a means of regulating the health issues that may come up due to excessive consumption of the season. We should be glad and so friggin' proud that our leadership is quite capable of thinking on their feet and providing timely solutions for emergency situations such as now.

Why all the fortifying and the obsession over health you ask? Well, the aim is to build a nation of yodhayas (giants) like the good old days, who are fed with homegrown, organic vegetables (because one cannot afford to buy them from the market anymore), red rice, jack fruit and what not, in order to battle it out with America and other "imperialist interventions" like one wise bearded man across the lake once suggested. So this must be our very own, homegrown battle plan against America for bringing up that distasteful resolution against us. Be afraid America, be very afraid, said a nonsensical bearded man from across the lake. We yodhayas fed with rathu bath, Kos and other healthy food grown in our own backyards are coming, with the adorably nonsensical bearded man leading us from the forefront! I should have realized this earlier noh, without grumbling about everything. If I did, the name of this very blog may have been something else entirely. Such ungrateful people we all are I tell you! Gotta admire the genius minds of these people. They say that Einstein's IQ  was 160 and they consider him a mara pora. We really should test the IQ of the people from across the lake. I'm sure that it would turn quite a few heads and raise a few eye brows if we did so. Shaaaaaaaa...... mara plans these people have. They could have surely fooled us what with them playing the dumb ass in media, rambling the most moronic nonsense and all!

Random Ramblings

Its been quite some time, I know. Well, things have been quite hectic and since this is the New Year week, I've been a little bit released form the ordinary flow of work. Well, I've still got some paper articles that I've got to hand in and then there is all the Avrudu stuff going on which hinders me from getting any sort of work done. Its all hustle, bustle and rustle of the preparations over here :)

Oh and another thing, Lady Grouchalot has been offered her very own column on The Island!! Yes, yes, I've been dancing about it for quite sometime, but then nothing's been finalized yet, so we will wait and see what happens. Will definitely post here when it goes on for sure.

Btw, decided to go ahead and unleash a collection of poetry and this time, I am DEFINITELY going ahead with it. Poetry has always been a part of my life. I write when I'm sad, I write when I'm happy, I write when I'm in pain...yeah, mostly when I'm in pain I write. Poetry is indeed a great device to dissolve all that hurt and the stinging that you feel every once in a while. Poetry has always been my escape and solace so my words have always been honest, gritty and quite dark in poetry. But that is exactly what I am. I do not write rainbow fables (ok, so there's this one poem called "Somewhere over the rainbow" written for the Darling of which I'm quite fond of really, but that is about it), my little pony pink goo that people can nicely sit at their coffee tables, flip the pages with their manicured nails and read while sipping their mochachinos. But this time, I am putting myself out. I am revealing myself, spilling out my insides, full frontal and unadulterated, in all its rawness, bloody and unwashed like a new born babe just out of the womb with the umbilical cord still uncut. No more hesitation. This is my poetry. This is myself when I fall to pieces, this is my own flesh and blood, sweat and tears splattered across the pages in words. Take it or leave it and I wouldn't give a rat's tiny behind if you call it poetry or mere ramblings of a delirious mind.

Been writing a novel, but the progress is slow as my "work" usually swallows up most of my time. Writing for a living has this way of draining all your energy that you have no time nor the desire left to do any creative work at all. But times shall pass and I shall make some time. I'm quite fond of this story that I am writing really. It has been inspired by some of my childhood memories of visiting my mother's ancestral home. The background is that but the characters are pretty much fictitious. Writing the novel is fun really, it gives you this God-like feeling. You are the master of the puppets (I mean the characters) and you pull the strings. But after some time, you get so attached to these characters that it gets creepy sometimes. Either way, this novel has its way of sucking me in to and I usually do not feel time go by and as a result sometimes, I abandon my work. Which I literally cannot afford right now because I am planning to publish the book with what I've earned so far without any help from my darling parents who would only be too willing to take it upon themselves. But no. They have fed me, given me a good education, they have made me in to what I am today. As a 24 year old, I need to be able to stand up on my own feet and fend for myself. I want to make them proud. And I know that I will.

Missing music badly. There's been some pretty bland gigs that have been organized to which we have participated out of sheer lack of good live, head spinning music and the hunger remains unsatisfied. Which excludes the No More Marx concert held on the 31st March of course which was quite something to rant about. It was the first time I saw the dude perform live and I quite liked it. Even wrote an article on it which is to be published in the Grouchalot column in the paper. It was, indeed, an article worthy concert.

Tsunami scare yesterday and watching all those people clamber about for their dear lives really made me think. It must have been like deja vu for the down south people all over again, having to grab what they can and run for their lives. Just can't imagine what it must have been for the survivors of 2004. It was like a nightmare repeating itself. Daddy Dearest was already at home (thank God) and once we managed to bug The Darling to come early from work and crash at our place for a while, it felt cosy and somewhat protected to be surrounded by all the people that I loved and cared for, but imagine how it would have been for the families whose parents, children or spouses have not yet returned home. To top it off, buses have stopped travelling, leaving those of who do not own the luxury of a car stranded in the middle of nowhere. Just hope to God that no such tragedy shall occur again like that of 2004. More people killed in just 10 minutes than the entire number of lives lost during 30 years of civil war. Turns out that Tsunami is indeed the bigger b****

Somewhat nodding off. Its been an eventful day what with all the preparing of sweets and what not. I just adore the hustle and bustle of the season, the variety of smells wafting through the house, merry noises, laughter, its all very lively. For me, this is what Avrudu is all about. Family. Love. And happiness. And tomorrow, more oil-oozing goodness of the season and more happy cheer :)

Happy belated women's day!

The World women's day whizzed past us with many a vivid fb status updates, pizza offers, girls nights out and what not. The buy one get one free pizza offer for women's day was the one that amused me the most. However, hats off to Pizza Hut for at least caring enough that the women in this country are fed sufficiently even if it is for just one day :D

An incident which occurred on the women's day itself set my mind in motion. Although a Lady *snobby pout* I am a Lady minus her own personal carriage and chauffeur and therefore, I am required to utlize the public transport services quite frequently. Therefore, I should say that I am quite well versed in kicking, punching, castrating (haven't yet gotten around to it, but quite looking forward to it) individuals with severe mental problems who like groping women up and down and exposing their wobbly bits in public. However, on this particular day, a tiny-minded individual with severe mommy issues happened to try his luck, apparently with the wrong girl and the lady, possessing quite a temper, happened to twist his slimy fingers to their breaking point, without even the courtesy of looking back in to the face of the kind young man who lent his fingers to be twisted like modeling clay. She did it oh-so-casually that it shocked and bewildered the perv, even though he did keep muttering curses under his breath with a fearful glance every now and then. I dare say that I enjoyed myself very much. It felt good. 

Times are such that a woman cannot walk down the street, take a bus, travel alone without being groped, starred at, addressed in obscenities by puny insects who call themselves male. And we have dimwitted diplomats going around the world preaching about our "culture" giving birth to "well disciplined" men who respect and protect women. We speak of gender equality and men are often seen raising their eyebrows and smirking with expressions which spell 'bloody feminists" when a woman speaks out for her race, on behalf of freedom and liberation of the female kind. Well, one does not have to be bra-burning, stark raving mad in order to address the many issues that a woman living in this apparently "cultured and well disciplined" society have to bear up with. Men who smirk and raise their eyebrows when speaking of women's rights do not get groped by strange people (I have a feeling that they would enjoy it very much if they do get groped), they don't get starred at, they don't get leered at, they don't get called a "bitch" or "slut" for speaking out one's mind or for dressing in whatever way that he prefers to be dressed in. For God's sake, a man can walk in to a public place in the world's most ridiculous pair of flowered shorts, wearing his socks over his ears, sporting the most horrendous head of hair that has been colored a blazing orange and he will not even be noticed let alone commented upon! How is this fair?!?!         

Despite the claim that the woman in this society is given her rightful place, only a woman living in this society with both her feet planted firmly on the ground would know the truth as it is. Driving for a woman is as hectic and harassing as using the public modes of transport with thousands of perverts who will be starring down your neckline, groping you up and down, leaning against you, undressing you with their eyes. All sorts of jerks will swerve their vehicles towards you, cut in quite abruptly in front of you and when the two vehicles collide, they will try to use their physical strength to frighten and intimidate you in to paying them a compensation. When that does not work, they will try to demean and challenge your intelligence with "what do you know about the world? You are a woman" kind of attitude. I like to surprise these jerks at times with my "limited female viewpoint" of the world and it feels good to see how most of these spineless things scowl and shut their cake holes without further displaying their ignorance.

I have often seen women getting harassed in the public and I have seen them bearing it all up in silence. I have seen friends getting harassed and yet when I try to speak out for them, I have been held back by my friends themselves because "we are women" and because "we don't want any trouble". I had often tried to retort and reason with them but then I see the fear in their eyes and I hold myself back, placing a reassuring pat on their arms. Ladies, before you start venting about equality of the genders and all the riff-raff I'd say we fight for one of our most basic rights, the right to go about our day without being harassed, groped or raped on the way to office, home or school. No amount of banning pornography sites, taking down "inappropriate" cutouts or blurring out scenes from movies even when a lady's dress is slightly lifted by the wind (Honestly, watching a movie on a local TV channel is like trying to count the tiles on a bathroom wall through a  shower curtain but that's another story) However, don't y'all think that all the time spent and the trouble taken for censoring movies and teledramas, taking down of billboards and etc would be better spent if all that energy is directed towards making the society a safer and a more liberated space for a woman to move about in? But then again, must the authorities do everything? Ladies, it is YOUR silence that encourages these ballless bastards, it is on YOUR fear that they feed on. Time to embed a stiletto heel or two on a leering and jeering face that makes lewd comments or mutters obscenities in your ears, I'd say.

There are two types of women in the world. The Eves who are made from Adam's rib who are meant to be sweet, gentle and subordinate and then there are Liliths who were meant to be Adam's equal, made from the same stuff, only muddier and sturdier stuff than what Adam was made of. But what I believe is that there is a Lilith and an Eve in each and every woman and that it is a woman's experience, circumstances and conditions to which she is exposed that determines whether Lilith or Eve emerges each time. So ladies, invoke Lilith for strength and protection and cherish Eve for gentleness and forgiveness because it is this rare combination of unrelenting tenacity and unparalleled gentleness which makes a woman incomparable to any man who gropes, touches, stares, mutters obscenities or simply remains inactive while he knows that women are being harassed, molested and subjected to all sorts of injustices all over the world.

Phew.....now that its all been said, happy belated women's day everyone! :)

Wake up call

Life has been whizzing past so rapidly for the past couple of weeks or so. I have been wandering around, eating, sleeping, working, zombie-like, hardly knowing what I am doing, hardly conscious of what needs to be done, apart from the daily dose of work that desperately awaits completion before the day is done. And today, I woke up, only for a while. I suspect that I am still awake, strangely. But tomorrow, I shall sleep walk again.

It just struck me that we might as well be rodents, running around in a wheel, chasing after a piece of cheese that is hung above us, taunting, tempting, seducing and we trample the wheel, not knowing why, but knowing only that we HAVE to do so, perhaps because the wheel is there and other rodents are doing the same maybe? Perhaps because other more nosy rodents come up to you and question you if you do not trample the wheel? Maybe. Of course, earning a living is important in a country where buying a loaf of bread to feed one's family requires the selling of one's own body organs as well as the neighbor's and etc and the importance of a career path is very well understood in a society where "I do not have an idea about getting a job yet" rises many a Sri Lankan "sooo's" and "tsks" and a whole series of disapproving looks directed at the ground which screams "what a pathetic looser" in bold capitals right to the face. But still, with the careers blooming, social statuses flourishing and brandished like lightsabers from Star Wars universe and us working our rear ends off to just to make the ends meet, when do we get to 'live'? Does 'living' suddenly metamorphose in to work, work, work and work (a more 'important sounding word for this pathetic state would be known as a 'career path' ) suddenly once we reach our adult age?

And what exactly do I mean by 'living' you ask. Of course, I too am quite clueless of what 'living' is exactly (regardless of the philosophical image of a hermit like creature with floor length hair and overgrown beard, isolated cabin in the middle of the woods, scribbling away at one scrap of paper after another from dusk to noon and etc or images of youth shooting drugs and doing booze till they squirm about in their own vomit, half naked, hyperactive women brandishing deranged smiles across their faces jumping up and down on a trampoline and etc that you tend to get in your head) However, I do question this rat race we are running, this constant need of achieving something great and once we achieve that finally, the need to achieve something great-ER. It never ends.

What happens when we achieve the greatest thing there is to achieve? What happens when we have reached the summit of the mountain of social and financial hierarchy? What happens after we have gotten the most beautiful and the most exquisite of all jewelry that there is? What happens after we have gotten the best set of wheels that money can buy or the best collection of cloths that one can ever own? We only wear one piece of clothing at a time, only a few pieces of jewelry at a time, we only drive one vehicle at a time. However, after one has achieved all that, then what? Where do we go from there?

I have been feeling like a computer programmed zombie who operates according to the whims and fancies of some other malicious force lately. I want to wake up, I NEED to wake up more than anything else. But sometimes, falling in to routine, following the herd without questioning, without doubting seems like a good, feasible and a very much uncomplex solution to a lot of problems I have seen. Thinking too much, saying too much have gotten me in to so much of trouble after which I trained myself not to think much, not to seek much, not to ask much, specially things that I do not want to hear or know, things that would hurt me deeply if only I heard, if only I knew. But I want to wake up now. I want to know. I want to question. I want to feel that I am here for a reason other than to run round and round on a hamster wheel.

I am in no position to preach about the absurdity of the insatiable quality of human nature or such as I myself is in a position of conflict. What I need to do now is to wake up from this half-asleep state and look around with unglazed eyes. I do not know where it will get me or what it will do, but right now, I know that I need to hold on to something real, I need to feel alive which I have not felt in a very long time.

I think I'l just shut up now. Sigh.........

Lotus Pond crisis

The State Drama Festival commenced several days ago and is held, as usual, at John De Silva Theater from 6.30 PM onwards these days. After much waiting, Lady Grouchalot managed to drag along a rather reluctant Darling (in his defense, who became very much interested afterwards) as well and headed there to indulge in a few mighty doses of live and pulsing theater after a while.

The very first day that it was announced that the State Drama Festival was going to be held at the John de Silva as usual, the very first question the Lady had in mind was, what ever happened to that colossal 'Lotus pond' of ours which inaugerated itself with a flash, kaboom and a humongous bang a couple of weeks earlier?

Lady Grouchalot who had always been an ardent fan of the theater had always been rather saddened by the everyday tragedies that the dramatists and playwrights of the country go through just to get a play on stage and keep it running. She had seen how crestfallen artists become at seeing the measely turn up in theaters whereas the majority of the public would sit at home, slobbering all over the powder puff soap opera starlets flashing their absurdly made up faces almost offensively laden with layers and layers of make up ( enough to make Marilyn Manson cringe ), wondering what outrageously bold move these whimsy puppets of bubble villa would make next (OMG, Paba has constipation! What will she do next?? Will Shehan leave her because she's farts too much??? Subha broke a goddamned nail while running away with Jatila, escaping from Chamara who has been carrying on with Sujatha who has had far too much to drink last night and had made out with Jatila's grandfather, etc, etc..... )  .  Therefore, the Lady was overjoyed when she first heard the commencement of building an international standardized theater right here at the heart of Colombo and looked forward to an illuminated future for the talent laden theater folk of the country who have showcased so much of potential and yet, no means of unleashing it out of sheer lack of facilities resulting from the unsightly stepmother treatment of the authorities towards the venerable theater that has been around ever since the beginning of civilization itself. However, the Lady's hopes had been shattered rather cold heartedly. Seeing the almost obscenely priced venue charges that was published just a while ago, I wonder how many people burst out laughing out of sheer disbelief.

So....the 'Nelum Pokuna' unsheathed its petals (btw, I find the name to be quite hilarious) and lends itself to the able and the partial while the poor dramatists strive to do their best, making do with what they've got in the dilapidated dressing rooms with broken taps and non-moving ceiling fans. However, the ever loyal theater fan would not mind flicking a few beads of sweat while watching a true piece of art that has been worked over and over again over cups of plain tea and shared tea buns.

Nelum Pokuna will feature foreign artists who are forced a microphone in to their hands to "sing a song" while in transit here in Sri Lanka *smirk*  while local talent rots away in corners, portraying the tragedy of a nation that venerates hip-hop wanna-be Iraj-ists as the ultimate ambassadors of Sri Lankan music. We already have plenty of places to hold mass scale musical shows featuring the Supersunshiney gang and the ra (s)pping dimwits who are not even capable of properly lip syncing to prerecorded music, don't we? How about we give the good ol genuine theater that has been abandoned for a significant amount of time a chance for a change?

The ordinary artist is not a millionaire (Well, at least not the ones that havn't yet succumbed to the shitacious politics cloud that hangs upon our heads anyway). Therefore, one wouldn't just happen to have 3-5 lacks lying around to spend on outrageously priced venues and the ordinary theater goer wouldn't just happen to have thousands of rupees lying around to attend these shows of which the tickets would have to be priced around Rs 5000-1000 just to cover the venue cost.

However, the State Drama Festival is going very well, without Lotus ponds for the artists to swim in, I dare say. At the end of the show, the crowd trickled out one by one out of the non-air conditioned hall on to a yard illuminated by the glaring lights of the Nelum pokuna which loomed imperiously overhead. And yet, still dazed by the amazing show of talent which dazzled inside that non-air conditioned theater of the ordinary people, I don't think the people even noticed the condescending glare of the Nelum Pokuna which loomed over all of us in the horizon, begging for attention and a genuine doze of the 'real' art to get it up and revving, pulsing with life.

Weekend!!!

Don't you just LOVE that indescribable feeling of freedom that you experience at the end of a working week? It's like the weekend just stretches right ahead of you and you are under no obligation to work. You can just stretch your limbs and be a lazy ass couch potato without feeling an iota of guilt about it and its just SUCH a fabulous feeling. I'm feelin' the weekend baby!

Work can be quite tiring. You just sit there, starring at the computer screen as if the fate of the human race depended on it, eyes aching, brain twisting to all kinds of pretzel shapes as you analyze one foreign subject (which you have perhaps never heard before) after another, rephrasing, rewriting, twisting, churning, fabricating words, phrases and whole effing sentences, head throbbing, anxious to finish it all off............. At the end of the day, after you have completed your work and you're just heaving that long awaited sigh of relief, if somebody just comes along and screams at you for not doing this, not looking in to that (things that were the last things on your overtly overcrowded mind actually), not even giving the shadow of a thought to how incredibly tired you might be, you just end up feeling sad. Really, really sad.

Not complaining about work actually, I quite enjoy writing. Anyhow, the week is done and the Lady is feeling less Grouchy because the weekend is back baby! After lying on my butt for a whole 4 years at university, working for a living feels quite strange. Specially since I've always been a lazy bum for as long as I can remember :D

Its 3.56 AM and I still don't want to sleep. The weekend feels too precious to waste away sleeping and my brain tells me to savor every second of it while it lasts. And sleeping is just not a part of this super bonanza of freedom. Strange.

Should get a couple of winks now or else I'l be snoozing till my butt shines in all its glory in the full blast of the noon sun. Have some errands to run tomorrow as well. Sigh............There ain't no rest for the wicked, some wise man (men) have once said. I know, I do realize that I've been abandoning the Grouch blog and my poetry lately, but then, c'est la vie. Sigh...................So much to write, so little time :(

This, that and everything

This is a long over due post and I'm putting it down today. Do I dare type away when I have million other things piling up on that horrendous to-do list of mine? Yes, I dooooooooo!!

Anyways, walking down the streets in my neighborhood can be quite an experience. You'd think that half the male population in the country have never seen the likes of a woman before. And you'd think that the situation might improve in a while and that a better day would dawn tomorrow when a woman may walk down a street without being hindered by gaping men, stalking cars and flashing nitwits with minuscule weenies.

But no, it doesn't.

Women are to be the quiet and submissive type who should NOT, under any circumstance, speak unless spoken to and should not under any circumstance, speak out even if one is being screamed at on daily basis. If she has a complaint, the woman is supposed to put it across in such a way that it would not enrage others, more specifically, not enrage the men. And if a certain woman does not fit in to that meek little, controllable category, she is 'un-womaned' by those around her, branded, called names and cast aside. The sacred femininity that maketh a woman is taken away bit by bit, ounce by ounce until you are left a sexless stick without an identity, feeling like a sugar cane that has been well chewed and spat back out. Apparently, rebelling, speaking out and arguing is a macho thing to which the men folk have exclusive rights to. The women have to bear up with everything and also, apparently, patience is a virtue that is exclusively reserved for the women folk to practice. That's what our elders have always taught us, as little girls, as young women stepping in to adulthood. People just have this tendency to like tame animals I suppose. In an age of instant, two minute noodles, we are the kind of people who prefer visiting the zoo rather than taking the risk of going out in to the jungle to see. Tame animals are more easier to manage and thereby, more convenient to have around. But doesn't it get boring at times? I do wonder sometimes.

Which is exactly why the spineless pervs in buses, streets and markets have their own convivial ball of a time harassing women in public. Confront them and you would see them wriggling back to their perspective dirt holes after a lame comeback or two. Sigh........ there really is no sexual discrimination going on in the world, only discrimination against those who dare speak out against things that just don't seem right. But of course, in a world like ours, in order to keep one's head safe upon one's shoulders, its wise to act dumb, deaf and blind at all times. Diplomacy, my friend, is everything these days. But then again, even diplomacy isn't shield enough to protect one from speeding bullets fired off of a drunkard's gun. Sigh.....pathetic.

I remember using my fingers to count when I was small and I'd get quite confused after passing fifteen or so and often wished that I had about hundred fingers which would help me count without getting confused. Well, apparently, some ex-Commissioners General of exams still use their fingers to solve sums and sometimes, even to calculate the Z-scores of A/L students! I had NO idea! :O Well, the whole process didn't really work out and whole country blames the poor guy for effing up the whole lot but me, knowing how difficult it is to count with one's fingers, would blame the makings of the human body for not giving us enough fingers to count with. Sigh...............if only he had hundred fingers to count with, he wouldn't have gotten so confused. But such...............is life...................

Me hungry now after all the rambling, complaining, grouching around. Midnight snack anyone? Yes, ma'am! :D