Just another post on sexual harassment

Utterly disgusted by the way our FB heroes are responding to the Wariyapola incident. Actually left me shocked. It's just recently that I realized that this is how the majority thinks.

For those of who are not familiar with the incident, there is a video going around that shows a girl responding to a man who had harassed her in public. She screams at the man, hitting him occasionally. For me who had been no stranger to street harassment, I was glad. Women in Sri Lanka are finally taking a stand against the kind of harassment that makes it impossible for a woman to travel freely within the country.

What usually happens is that girls keep their heads down and pretend as if nothing happened, quietly fading away into the background when harassed. My years in public transport and in a local university where being a female language student who does not participate in their political rallies nor idiosyncrasies automatically gets you reduced to an obnoxious slut (their words), has taught me that being passive is not the answer to harassment. Cornered in many a bus, many a university corridor, I had always struck back. It is only when one does speak up for oneself that respect ensues and registers itself. I am glad that I took the time to train myself in self defense. Respect has to be earned. Silently enduring all only encourages more harassment.

I know the feeling of being harassed. It leaves you feeling downright wretched, broken and so dirty that you end up being angry at the whole world for not doing anything about it. Then you direct that anger at yourself for not doing anything about it and that stings even more. It's a terrible feeling that clings to you like a bad smell for weeks afterwards. Of course those who have never taken a bus in their entire lives would not be familiar with this feeling. Those of whom are fortunate enough to have everything handed to them in silver platters will not be familiar with this feeling. But majority of us who have to go about managing our own things by ourselves are thus subjected to harassment at various levels everyday of our lives.

It pains me how some people I consider as my friends, males, have responded to the situation. Of course they are not aware of what a woman has to endure everyday, simply making their way to work, running errands, etc. They do not get their bums squeezed, chests groped, leered and jeered at in public. No females (or males) bare their intimate body parts at them in the street or in buses (I have a feeling they would enjoy it if this happened) and neither do they get spoken to in pure Sinhala filth and obscenities. They do not get harassed at work places, be treated as if your opinion does not matter, just because you are a woman. They do not get degraded on the street, get put down to the level of a gigolo based on what they wear. So how can they possibly understand?

Some men even ask, "Why do y'all shout so much about this harassment and that harassment? Do you guys get so harassed? How come we never notice?". All I can say is, shave your faces, put on a wig, put on a skirt (doesn't even have to be short. Knee length will do) and try crossing the road anywhere in Sri Lanka. Try withstanding the honks, the flashlights, the obscene catcalls and deliberate bouncing-into-you episodes for two hours and come back and ask the same question.

Another famous byline I've observed in the same context is that you are "asking for it" by what you wear. The idiocy of such people astounds me. A woman should be free to wear whatever she wants to wear, whatever she is comfortable wearing or whatever that flatters her appearance. Yes, it is a given fact that the female body is more aesthetically appealing than the male physique will ever be, but why penalize the woman for it? Do we think that men should be raped when they go about shirtless or wear shorts? Of course not. Predatory mentality methinks, preying on the weakest. It makes them feel so much stronger, picking on the physically weaker sex, thinking that they won't be attacked back.

An underlying inferiority complex surfacing? I think so.

It is not gentlemanly to do so without a question. But then, gentlemen are a rare breed.

If there is one thing I cannot stand, that is rudeness. And all this is unspeakably rude. I believe people should be civil to one another, no matter what cast or gender.

Coming back to the incident, the FB heroes commenting on the incident want to find that girl's FB account. Ha! I almost chocked on my dinner reading the comments.

Another thing that made me laugh is how people assume such harassment to be compliments. Most of all women (whose accounts had female names but not entirely sure if they were authentic accounts or not) who attacked her appearance, saying that she should be flattered that this particular man paid her attention. It is a well known fact that the majority of Sri Lankan males would hoot, leer and jeer at anything with a pulse that qualifies even as faintly feminine. In a country where 80 year old grandmas are raped, explain to me how making one feel uneasy with lewd comments is supposed to be a compliment. One has to be very much attention depraved in order to consider so.

For those who claim that passing such comments, prodding and poking females in public are done in "jest", it must be made clear that those who prod and poke animals and torture them to death just for "fun" are mostly diagnosed as criminally insane when subjected to psychiatric care.

All I can say is living in a country such as ours, I believe that every girl should be trained to protect themselves. Mentalities of these lewd, tasteless and ignorant morons cannot and will not be changed. All we can do is prepare ourselves. As for attacking that girl for the way she acted, the way she spoke in that instant, who knows for how long she endured this kind of behavior? Who knows what she had gone through in her life till that point? Who knows what the man said to her? Who knows if that was indeed, her breaking point? Of course, the way she reacts is not ladylike at all and under any other circumstance, I would consider it crude and ugly. But I am of the opinion that if one acts in an ungentlemanly manner, they must be prepared for some very unladylike behavior.

It's like how everybody got so excited about Jaqueline Fernandez's hoppers at Rs 200/-. Nobody talks of Sangakkara's kade paan at Rs 200/-, Pol sambol at Rs 240/- and Kankun at Rs 480/-.

I am reminded of a part of a conversation that took place in the university many years back during the rag season. "Behave like a woman" he said, teeth bared in aggression, like a rabid dog, some pseudo-socialist creature with a huge chip on his shoulder who believed that being a woman is all about wearing long skirts and Bata slippers, plaiting your hair in a braid and putting up with all their crap, head hung low. The girl in question answered, with her head held high "if you behave like a man, I will behave like a woman". 

Rant & ramble

Not one to wallow in bottomless pits of misery and heartache, post heartbroken statements on social media and weep very publicly on my FB wall at the demise of celebrities that I hardly know. However, the death of Robin Williams managed to strike home. Brilliant actor that one. Grew up with his films and learned to love them, some of them even going on to becoming personal favorites. Its hard not to like him, cheeky smile, gentlemanly manners, crinkly kind eyes n all. His death is a little too hard to believe still.

An extreme example of the sheer, cruel irony of life, isn't it? He who made people roll over in laughter finally succumbed to his own darkness. Depression does not care about these things.

So Robin Williams is dead. And suddenly everybody is a Robin Williams fan. Its been two days and I haven't seen one of those ardent, passionate and heart-rendering Gaza posts on social media since.

Anyways,

On a more cheerful note, a new phrase was added to my vocabulary - A sunny day in winter

It's absolutely breathtaking when that happens. A syrupy sun casts perfect shadows upon the outside buildings, giving them that perfectly comfortable look you would only get to see in those old fashioned, all-American happy family advertisements. It's hard to describe. You hardly ever see such a thing back at home. 

A day off from all the activity, the shopping, sightseeing & socializing. Never thought I'd say this, but a break like this is very much appreciated. Even if it is from the fun stuff.

Had kangaroo meat the other day. I've put off trying it all these years but finally mustered up the stomach for it this time. Tastes like mutton, sinewy and quite chewy. Not a huge fan. But seated at an old school pub house with oldies rock playing in the background, sipping a martini at 11 o'clock in the morning (I am a lifelong non-alcoholic with occasional alcoholic moments), with like-minded company, it was a moment to cherish. 

Few days back we drove past the Hells Angels clubhouse in Fairfield. Last time I was here, I chanced upon a whole host of them leather-clad, be-hogged creatures revving past the traffic in all their glory. The roar of those gorgeous Harleys was simply, music. It is easily one of the most memorable, most beautiful things, I've seen in my life. Yes yes I know, they are no exotic species to rave about but still, these buggers sure know how to ride in style.

Quite chilly here, what with it being winter n all. Taking a bath itself is a ritual. First you switch on the heater in the bathroom and wait for it to get nice and toasty inside. Then you fine tune the water temperature to perfection, lots of knob turning involved. Then begins the disrobing ceremony. You can only take off one piece of garment at a time. One thinks twice before taking off one's clothes here *grin*

My hair loves the weather though! It has therefore, decided to be on its best behaviour and as a result, I now sport shiny, slow-motion-movie-style-tossable hair. My love-hate relationship with my hair has now turned into a completely lovey-dovey one.

The most wonderful thing however is, that people are in such a good mood here, all the time. Most of them are courteous, patient and quite endearing really. Of course there's the occasional grouch nut but that is a rare thing indeed. Being here after so long, its a blatant contrast from the eternally constipated, perpetually angry, screwed up and frowning mugs that grace your sight in Sri Lanka, or more generally, in most Asian countries. One exception is Philippines. Sweetest people.

Crows sound like ducks being strangled. Or Geese with their necks being wrung. So ugly. Made me yearn for the crow calls back at home. Sweet music.

Anyways, being here made me appreciate my complexion more. You see how blotchy, red and patchy the white skin can get and how much of foundation and makeup is needed, just to make it look presentable and you thank your lucky stars for your conveniently dark complexion. We can simply head outta the house fresh out of bed and we'd still look a great deal presentable. Even if we had blemishes, they wouldn't show under our beautiful dusky hues. Best part is, it has been scientifically proven that dark skin does not age that easily. The amount of melanin in your skin keeps off wrinkles and other calamities of old age quite easily. This is true to even our multihued Sri Lankans. Ever noticed how the fairer ones among us seem to look a lot more older just as they pass their thirties? Well, this is the reason. All the more reason to celebrate your dark skin!  

I seem to be missing the rainy season back at home. It is early this year, it usually starts in September. I am particularly fond of this intensely rainy, beautifully pungent season. So much for getting back home in time for the rain. Hope it is still there when I do get home finally.

Frankenstein is not eating it seems. Isn't the usual crazy brat as I hear. Father Dearest is of the opinion that he misses me. Despite the very pleasant time here, that made me want to run straight back home. Still, my business here is not yet done. I need to contend myself with the thought that he is in the capable hands of Father Dearest. Still. Worried. Very worried.

However, looking back, all my posts on the grouch blog for the past two weeks have been happy ones. Defeats the whole purpose of the blog methinks. Maybe I shouldn't have left work so early. For the sake of the blog that is :P

Typing away eating a peach with some yogurt. Beautiful combo these two. Peaches are out of season at the moment but since I was so adamant about finding some, I managed to hunt them down in a supermarket after a while. Peach and cream being the famous best buddies, yogurt is the perfect alternative to cream. Much healthier too. Not to mention yummy.

Speaking of peaches, I will end the post with a random quote by Dita Von Teese, an admirable woman, burlesque superstar and fashion idol. "You can be the most ripest, juiciest peach in the world. But there is still going to be someone who hates peaches".

I mean, who hates peaches?!?! Seriously. If anyone hates peaches, they can bring them to me. I will eat them all.

I do not like cats.

This post is going to offend a lot of cat lovers. But I am happy ruffling some feathers. Or some fur :)

I do not like cats. Such feeble, obnoxious creatures, with nothing to show for their arrogance. Despite them looking good and being soft to the touch, they have no personality, no strength, no capabilities. And most of all, no loyalty. No loving, caring nature.

I do not get people who like cats either. They tend to be cat-like too, a bit too airy and surface-skimming for my taste. There is no weight, there is no depth. I generally dislike things without a weight. The society we live in is bubblegum enough.

I adore dogs. They are so very lovable, whatever the kind or gender. Such gentle yet powerful creatures, so humble despite their formidable personalities. I cannot simply imagine, a life without one, two or three of these adorable, beautiful beings. They are family.

I like people who like dogs. They tend to possess some of the dog-like qualities that I so adore; big, warm beings, with big, warm hearts. Weighty, well-grounded and often, deep. Real people.

Dogs are loyal, loving and true. Cats are opportunistic, moody and unreliable.

And as they say, there are cat people and then there are dog people.

I do not like packing. It is cumbersome and unnecessary. I tend to put it off till I can no longer put it off. Like I am doing now. I like travelling light, but can't afford to do so at this point as I have my clothing and reading needs. I have realized that I may have to get myself a mobile library to carry with me all the books I want to take whenever I go somewhere. Sigh...the many trials of a book lover's life.

Besides, packed bags always make me sad, although I do not often know what I am sad about.

I often forget that I'm an "author". They call me that and I'm not quite sure if I am in fact, that. It's a big word, quite a big word and I feel myself to be quite small for it. Like an ill-fitting dress three times my size. I need to grow into it, plump myself up quite a bit before I wear the suit in pride. There is a long, long way to go. It feels strange typing it too. So I often forget that I must take along some of my own books whenever I attend a writers' festival or etc. I almost forgot it this time too.

Sad. Nobody to pester Daddy Dearest into eating right while I'm gone. Nobody to make sure Franky boy stays out of mischief too. A small, sharp string of pain twinges and whips about like a stray piano wire inside.

I'm sure I'm being silly. It's only for a little while.

How is the vacation, they ask

"So how goes the vacation?" asked an acquaintance just recently.

......and I wondered where to start.

Do I tell him that I get to sleep 8 or more hours a day finally? Do I tell him that I wake up smiling and laugh way more than I used to before? Do I tell him that I find myself dancing in the shower again? Do I tell him that I walk with a spring in my step and practically waltz my way around the house? Do I tell him that I now read what I used to read in 2 months in just 2 days? Do I tell him of my travel plans, the likely adventures, the memories I finally have time to make? Do I tell him that I break into impromptu dance routines in the middle of the living room/kitchen/garden, etc when I think nobody's watching? Do I tell him that my skin has drastically cleared up and I'm practically glowing that people wonder if I am actually, pregnant? Do I tell him that I now have more time for people and animals who matter to me? Do I tell him that when words do come, I give them the respect they deserve and am ready for them with pen and paper? Of course not.

So I just said "Good. Vacation's going good."

And that's the truth. Lady Grouch is happy.

Time is spent devouring books and happily drifting away into my own little world. Started at the bottom of my to-read book pile (it was reaching skywards and was threatening to topple over) and I have finished a significant amount by now. Just a few more to go. Doesn't hurt that September and the Book Fair isn't too far away to replenish either.

Other times, I cook. Mother Dearest being out of the country these days, almost all the cooking in the household is done with my own two hands. I enjoy quality time in the kitchen. Music playing in the background, knife in hand chopping up chicken liver, smashing garlic and ginger together, brandishing bunches of curry leaves and cilantro at unsuspecting pots and pans, beating unruly pie crusts into submission with a rolling pin, I am in my element. Everyday paves way to a new creation. Which Father Dearest gobbles up happily of course.

That is not to say that I don't work. The lady has her expenses you know. With my laptop on the balcony or on my comfy seat surrounded by my mother's exotic tropical garden (she calls it that, I call it a jungle) and Franky boy by my side, I am one happy working woman. Anyways, the point is life is good.

Flying off in a matter of days, a well needed change of place and faces, away from certain aspects linked to certain negative experiences, a negative way of life in the past. Only thing, planes keep on crashing! Wondering if that's God's way of saying stay put. Oh well, you only die once anyway. But happiness? You grab it while you still can.

Balmy Saturday, pleasantly warm, a slight breeze playing with the tissue-like petals of bougainvilleas outside. A pleasing sound. If serenity had a sound, this would be it. The night is young still, yet I retire to a quiet cosy corner with a paperback stranger that is yet to become a friend. My companion for the night will be Alice Munro's 'Dear Life'. A slim book, yet looks promising. 

The Last Fruit Salad

I had my last fruit salad today.

Not that I'm never going to have fruit salads again. Just that I will not have a fruit salad quite like this fruit salad again.

It all started like this. When things get unbearable at work, I'd go downstairs and get a fruit salad. I'd sit there and eat it, amidst the sea of noises in absolute privacy. This was my time of the day, my moment with myself and my thoughts, alone, thanking the Gods of Fruit Salad for the creation of something oh-so divine. I've grown so fond of these moments overtime. They were an absolute necessity.

Last day of work. As relieved and light-headed I may feel, I thought I'l feel at least a certain degree of sadness. But I don't. So many people that I've grown fond of overtime have left and there's practically nobody to feel sad about leaving behind. Or maybe I've struck off the nerve of sensitivity somewhere along the line.

And then I thought about what I would miss. I would miss the long ride to work in the morning in that half-asleep state of mind, listening to my favorite tunes on the iPod and daydreaming all the way to work. It helped wake me up and helped me ease into the chaotic calamity that awaits at the other end of the journey. I often find myself not willing the journey to end.

And then there's the remainder of the people that I'm leaving behind. So many have left and so little to leave behind. If there is anything that I would cherish for the rest of my life, that would be the people that I've earned. But I also know that I would always keep in touch with the people that actually matter to me, even if it is from a certain distance at times.

I would most certainly miss the crazy times spent with them, the sense of unity among turmoil. The many storms we braved together, the many hurdles leaped over. I would miss the laughter. I would even miss the drama and the groans, the aiyoo's and the sighs of frustration.

And then I would miss the fruit salad.

It's a good fruit salad.

      

Scents & other complex things

I just love how my skin smells after a day of baking. Its a strong combo of cinnamon, dark dark chocolate, cardamom, orange blossom (no idea where that comes from) and a strong whiff of something else that I just cannot seem to place. Its floral yet so spicy that it seems impossible. I actually would not mind going through life smelling like this every day. This, for me is the smell of happiness.

Yes, I do have a very sensitive nose.

Speaking of noses and smells, I've always wondered. Why is there an astounding amount of perfume that smell like food? Most of them are so fruity that I am worried that they may attract fruit bats. Or worse, bees and monkeys. Some even smell like chocolate and not in a good way. Before long, they might even invent a perfume that smells like burito or kiribath for all I know. Makes me wonder, are men attracted to women smelling like food? Let's ignore the fact that it is very generally, very conventionally, very typically believed that the way into a man's heart is through his stomach (or in the much lower regions in their anatomy for that matter) but seriously, would anyone be attracted by another human being who smells like food? Personally, I don't go for fruity smells nor the perfumes that smell like food on myself or another. Spices are another thing, I go gaga if I happened to catch a whiff of spicy on a man, for example Old Spice. But otherwise I go for floral or practical sexy scents on women and oceanic, spicy or woody on a man. But fruits? No way. If anyone knows the answer as to if and why people are attracted to other people who smell like food, please let me know.

I should maybe start a perfume line, create the kind of perfumes that I like. I have the nose for it, so why not! But then, I have more interests than there is time for already, so will have to think about this one.

Speaking of perfume, I stumbled across the following para from "Perfume Collector" a book that I've been reading recently. This I can so relate to.

"You see, nothing is more immediate, more complete than the sense of smell. In an instant, it has the power to transport you. Your olfactory sense connects not to the memory itself, but to the emotion you felt when that memory was made. It's poetry, in its most immediate form." I have no choice but to nod my head vigorously in agreement.

Speaking of books, George RR, I understand that anticipation is sexy, and I quite like the game. But too much of waiting kills all the excitement and waiting for "Winds of Winter" is bordering on irritation right now. You better pop that one out soon. Its taken way too long and I am getting impatient.

On a different note, what is it with this HEAT???? I am positive that my flesh is being charred from the inside and in my head, I imagine my skin being roastedlike crackling, splitting from the inside. Brain matter will be bubbling away in their own fluids and other internal organs will be simmering away in boiling blood (am I being too disgusting here?) Anyways, it doesn't matter. The heat is so exhausting that all you want is to just immerse yourself in a large tub of water and wait for it to pass.

Oh and I am writing at a rate again. I think the muses have awakened once more and with a vengeance.

Despite the heat, we managed to crawl our way to the Punchi Theatre yesterday for Stigmata's video launch for "On the wings of the storm". And the crawl was very much worth it! An amazing night of amazing music and good fun. And a powerful and a haunting video it was too. The only complaint is that the night ended way too soon and it felt weird going home at 10.30 in the night. It was after sometime that Stigs had performed. And it was like meeting an old friend, so near and dear to the heart.

All in all a good weekend. And again starts another working week tomorrow. Gaaah!!is an understatement.

Thoughts on Independence Day

Its February already!!! And to top it off its (In)dependence Day!

Just some random thoughts that were speeding past my brain, chasing each other's tails all day. I shall try to put some order in this chaos that's in my mind. Writing, or blogging usually helps.

Do pharmacists follow a special course in understanding doctors' handwriting prior to becoming pharmacists? Are they given a special test of ancient Greek letters, caveman scrawlings or toddler scribbles prior to being accepted as a pharmacist? I was trying so hard to understand a prescription that a doctor wrote for me, screwing up my face, frowning at the paper, wiping sweat off my brow and etc, when the pharmacist took it from me and assembled everything without batting an eyelid. I have immense respect for these buggers. They are bloody geniuses!

People in this country should be taught how to cross the road. When the lights turn red for vehicles is when they should cross, not when they turn green for vehicles. When these people casually stroll across the road, hand in hand, munching on kadala/murukku and God knows what not, JUST when the lights turn green for you after waiting SO long at the traffic lights, blissfully unaware of the bulshit of the police that one has to endure, three whellers, mosquitoe-like bikes and the sheer NUMBER of traffic lights that one has to pass when you are hurrying to a certain destination,  makes you want to tear your hair out and bash your own head on the windshield repeatedly while howling like a deranged baboon. Driving aint a cake walk in this country and the people walking about the place make it even more difficult. So annoying.

I think we would be in a completely different place if we were still under colonial rule. I think we all need one person, a single entity, a common enemy to hate and when we've got that, the rest of the country just flock together like a bunch of sweet smelling daisies. Without a common entity to hate, we just turn on one another. I guess people just need something/someone to turn all their anger & frustration towards. I guess hate brings people together. As twisted as it sounds, it totally works.

People are so selfish these days, conniving and cruel that going out of the house is like, in my head, loading my gun and stepping out into a zombie apocalypse. To top it off, people have grown so shallow! Having a descent, meaningful conversation with a fellow human being has become such a rarity that I find myself clinging to such people for dear life! Whether I've become more impatient and judgemental, or people have grown stupid I dunno. 

So I put on my armour of indifference, arm myself with sarcasm, diplomacy(which I'm short of) and plenty of caution and walk on tiptoe as if walking on egg shells. But most of the time, I just don't give a bat's stinking ass. People may think me proud, haughty, arrogant and all the other words in that syntax but hey, works for me.

Maybe life is too fast paced that people have no time for anyone else other than themselves. Maybe times have become so hard that they just skip the surface of life and never bother trying to look beneath the surface. I hope they know that a smile, a kind word, a gentle gesture does indeed go a long, long way. I hope that they are aware that intelligence and thoughtfulness are still very much valued.

Went out to get a shampoo but could not find one since all the shops were closed today. I lost my independence of bathing because of the Independece Day. I was dependent. On the shops, rather the commercial entities of the country. Hmm....interesting. Rather, ironic.

There should be a system where monk behaviour is monitored and certain standards are maintained in order for one to be called a "monk". Situation is such that any crook can put on a robe, get into politics, harass citizens, become the village thugs and etc. Such a noble philosophy as Buddhism cannot be allowed to deteriorate like this because of these morons! I wish somebody would look into these things before things get out of hand.

Still on the look out for that one extremely prodigeous horror movie. However, watched a Korean thriller today and I should say that Koreans sure do know their gore. Respect brothas!

Black is an addictive colour. I love black. Its so comforting. 

I miss dancing, I miss travelling I miss life, that throbbing vivacious thing that I used to call as life that is. Think I'm begining to get a little too comfortable but I'm not the settling type, oh no!  

I'm sleepy. All this structuring of thoughts I am not very used to, hence the tiredness. I should probably catch a wink before dinner. Tata!