Bits and Pieces

It’s been a crazy couple of weeks. Although I have a good excuse, I apologize profusely for neglecting this blog. Thanks for being patient, guys.

That said, after a short and sweet work trip to Singapore, followed by a short (and very un-sweet) spell of dealing with the aftermath of a hairline fracture, I am gratified to say that I have returned to my healthy, non-jet lagged, highly respectable self and that I can finally finger-fight again. Come on, ye!

Before I move on with today’s lecture, a word about our sista from anotha motha, C Manjula. It’s old news by now, but just in case you’ve been hiding under a Giant Clam Shell on Kiwi shores while pondering the meaninglessness of existence, she’s the one who’s been handling the report on the Morning Mist Home Stay attacks, as they are being called in the media. How well did she do? Well, she handled it horrend– that is to say, in a manner befitting an Indian politician appointed on the basis of ass-kissing ability, as opposed to other, somewhat more socially useful kinds of ability. Not one to be deterred by such things as facts, relevance and logic, she promptly reported that the party was in fact a rave party, that the decent folks who assaulted the partygoers were in fact nobly protecting the women from being misled, that the men at the party were in fact involved in human trafficking.

I guess Manjula and her band of merry thugs don’t quite get it – you can beat up people in parties (apparently), but even in India, you can’t beat partying out of people. The ‘victims’ only want to go it harder, and I say, rock on, folks.

Now, to bigger news. It turns out that Big Sister dear (edit
: that is to say, the non-thuggish one from my own mother) has finally decided to get married! Who woulda thunk it?

Considering that her husband-to-be is *gasp* a non-Indian origin guy who currently works as a *gasp* teacher in the *choke gasp* UK, this has brought in all kinds of reactions, from shocked horror to cynical estimations of the life-span of the marriage, to some solidarity and support (okay that’s just me and may parents at this point, but we’re working on it (and yes, for once, I’m not on the cynical side (no, honestly, I’m not))).

Depending on your point of view, the whole situation is either kind of funny or sad in an ironic sort of way, because the shocked horror crowd has crowed about her ‘settling down’ for a while now. I guess they were talking about a different settlement, cause I swear to Bleedin’ Chris’ on teh Bloomin’ Cross, they ain’t be too happy with this Brit lad. It all reminds me of E. M Forster’s novel, Where the Angels Fear to Tread (if you haven’t read it, do so. It’s great).

Family, family. Such goes life.

Overall, I’m happy with my sister’s impending marriage, but I’m also a little apprehensive about its aftermath, because it means I’ll soon have a nice, round target painted on my back. Let the games begin.

Indian families tend to follow FIFO queuing (that’s First In First Out, for non techies). The first kid in the clan better be pushed out by way of marriage (or failing that, by disowning him/her) before the second one gets a chance. This often leads to weird situations. Just the other day, there was this gag show on the radio where a frustrated woman roped in the radio station to play a bit of a practical joke at the older sister’s expense, who had presumably refused to tie the knot (or be disowned) for quite a while.

The gag was honestly pretty funny but the situation wasn’t. It was sad.

Part of the reason for gender relations being so skewed in India is that their whole interaction runs within narrow and largely irrational rules like these.

There’s a chocolate ad on these days where a student is depicted presenting some chocolates to his teacher on Rakshabandhan. When the teacher points out that most of his companions are out tying bands of brotherly affection to their crushes, and asks him why he isn’t doing the same, he responds that it’s Rakshabandhan, not St. Valentine’s day. They exchange pleasantries, and then there’s a happy ending because it’s obvious that our hero’s Internal Assessment is pretty darn secure, whether the teacher wants to admit it or not.

So what does this ad show? Well, for one, we now know that people who buy chocolates made by this brand tend to be smartasses. Second, some teachers do like smartasses. Third, a lot of people in India use Rakshabandhan as a substitute for V-day. It’s kosher to go out with your girlfriend on Rakhi, but not on Valentine’s. Parents know this. Teachers know this. But you know what? They don’t give a shit!

Mandooka made a post about this little trend, but I’m just using it to make a point here.

Our hypocrisy knows no bounds. Whether it’s C Manjula, her goons, my family members or ‘society’, we follow and enforce the rules senselessly, mindlessly, rules that are themselves senseless and mindless.

One thing we don’t realize, perhaps, is that these rules screw lives.

Let’s embrace change and uncertainty. Let’s acknowledge that things won’t be the same forever. You can’t live under hundreds of rigid, static rules in the guise of culture. Life on the third rock is dynamic, everchanging and responses must be dynamic too.

Dynamism is the key.

On Egalitarianism and Male Feminists

So, this is something that comes up over and over. I think pretty much all of us have met at least one person who has said something like, “I believe in equality but I am not a feminist”. A lot of feminists tend to balk at this, because frankly, it tends to represent a fundamental misunderstanding of feminism and a belief in hackneyed feminazi stereotypes. It also represents a fear of the ‘F-word’, and the negative labeling that that tends to bring to the fore.

Having said that, I have a bit of a confession to make. The confession is that despite my strong views on gender equality and patriarchy, I’ve become increasingly wary of using the feminist tag in public forums myself. This is certainly not because I’m afraid that people will label me for that; it’s not that. This change has happened largely because of my recent interaction with a bunch of people who subscribe to a growing point of view within the feminist movement: the idea that men cannot and should not call themselves feminists. As far as I know, there are two main arguments generally put forward in support of this:

1. A man cannot possibly relate to a woman’s perspective on the patriarchal system, because he has simply not experienced the same kind of discrimination that a woman has. You cannot be a feminist until and unless you suffer to the same degree under that system. Therefore, men cannot be feminists in the true sense.
2. Feminism is a movement by women and for women. Men have much greater access to various spaces in the public view; the feminist space is something that should be woman-only

I don’t agree with the first stance, and I sympathize with the second only on an emotional, not logical level. BUT, I do get it. Feminism is one movement that women should have control over. If a woman comes along and tells me that she’s not comfortable with me calling myself a feminist, that’s fine by me. I don’t insist on the label.

To be honest, I don’t give a rat’s fart about what other MEN  (i.e, non feminist men) think about this aspect of my value system. What I definitely do care about is being labeled as a self-serving White Knight by people whose issues I actually SYMPATHIZE with, for reasons that are frankly very selfish. I don’t support feminism purely out of altruistic interests; patriarchy hurts me personally, and I have a vested interest in seeing it die. It’s that simple.

And in the face of that, a degree of marginalization from a movement that I relate very strongly to is, well, not very pleasant.

I mean, don’t get me wrong here. I’m definitely not expecting any medals for holding the views I do. BUT, I’m also not expecting brickbats from the people whose ideology I share. I understand that women have it bad, and I understand that I’m treading on sensitive ground here, but the fact remains that is that it does feel unfair to be mistrusted to that extent purely for being male.

Therefore, as a defense mechanism, I’ve started to shy away from calling myself a feminist, and have begun stating my views a bit more elaborately. Usually something like, “I generally believe in social egalitarianism, but have a heightened interest in gender equality”. This approach has several advantages over calling myself a feminist. For one, it conveys my sociopolitical viewpoint much more unambiguously. More importantly, it is a ‘safe’ statement, in the sense that it tends to offend far fewer women who identify as feminists. However, I can’t get rid of the nagging feeling that it’s not the same thing. Why? Well largely because they really AREN’T the same thing.

Egalitarianism is a worldview. Feminism can be described as a worldview, but it is also much more than that. It is a movement. It is a whole school of thought focused exclusively on women’s rights and the damage caused by patriarchal systems. An egalitarian says, “I believe everyone should have equal opportunities and rights in life”. A feminist says, “I believe in equality of the sexes and I’ll be damned before I stop fighting for that”.

The overwhelming majority of feminists I know are unflinchingly egalitarian, and care a great deal about all sorts of things apart from women’s rights. So why even bother to call yourself a feminist? Well, because no one can focus on everything at the same time! I care about disabled people, I care about genocides in Africa, I care about illegal wars, I care about political repression, I care about LGBT rights, I care about censorship… but I can’t talk about all of them at the same time. There’s a lot wrong with the world today, but when I say I’m a feminist or profeminist or whatever, I’m choosing to focus my energies on that one aspect of the world that I find the most wrong, the one that I also feel I have the greatest understanding of and the greatest power of change.

And that’s why, no matter what I label myself in public, when it comes to my internal thought process, I most definitely consider myself a feminist – not just an egalitarian with an interest in gender equality.

There is a difference there, and that difference is important. Because that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?

About Laziness, Seat-Belts and Meaningless Crap

 

We’re driving around in my car, a colleague and I. You know the drill. Random shop talk, traffic noises and…weird beeping sounds?

“Did you clear that docu I was talking about earlier?”, I ask her

*beep* *beep*

“Nah, I have to get moving on that. Thanks for the reminder”

*beep* *beep*

“No problem. Just get it done before Wednesday”

*beep* *beep*

“Yeah”

*beep* *beep*

“Hey, CE?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s that beeping sound?”

*beep* *beep*

“It’s a seat-belt chime. Honda’s telling you to wear your seat-belt.”

“I see”

*beep* *beep*

“You don’t want to wear it?”

“Nah, no police around here”

*beep* *beep*

*****

One thing I figured out early in life is that people look at traffic rules in different ways. There are people who lean towards following traffic rules rigidly and without question. There are people who can’t quite differentiate between a traffic rule and a general guideline. And, of course, there are people who fall somewhere in-between.

In India, people follow traffic rules for one reason and one reason only – to avoid court visits and consequent fines.

See, when it comes to non-work related issues, the vast majority of us here in India aren’t just cheap, we’re also incredibly lazy. It’s in our blood. We may work 90 hour weeks, but goddamn it, when we get home, the couch better be ready to bear the burden of a sweaty backside and the AC better be running. Heck, we even have Air Conditioners which turn on with an SMS.

But lazy doesn’t come in one variety. Here’s a bit of life gyaan for you folks.

There are two extremes of lazy in the world – completely inexperienced, overly optimistic lazy and very experienced, highly cynical lazy. It’s like a sliding scale, and most people tend toward one or the other. What’s more, the two categories vary drastically in their approach to life in general and traffic rules in particular.

The inexperienced lazy person breaks rules left, right and center because following them is like, well, work. S/he omits wearing helmets and seat-belts, talks on a cellphone without bothering to pull over, takes the car out without bothering to sober up, drives at insane speeds for fun and frankly, just kind of creates trouble wherever s/he goes. The

Inexperienced Lazy (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

inexperienced lazy person is a walking talking health hazard. You can find these people at trying to get bail at police stations, recovering from their latest accident at trauma centers and chilling off while driving DTC buses. This is the kind of person you don’t want to bang into, because that may well be the last thing you do. Don’t get me wrong here. These guys aren’t all evil. In fact, they’re vital to modern society. Inexperienced lazy people are good for the economy, just not for you. If you went ‘huh’ at this point, you really need to think about this a bit more.

Journalists like these folks because they make neat little filler stories for them everyday. Physiotherapists, orthopedic surgeons and lawyers owe half their clients base to them. Safety Engineers love them because they’re the one thing that lets safety engineers afford the ultra safe and ultra expensive devices they invent everyday. Repair contractors would be out of business if these guys didn’t exist… like I said, they’re vital.

Contrast this with the experienced, cynical lazy person, who I’ll call ECLP for short. The experienced lazy person is every bit as lazy as the inexperienced lazy person, but unlike the latter, this individual knows that indiscriminate violation of traffic rules creates even more work than following the rules does. Through long bitter experience, the ECLP has lost all semblance of optimism and realizes that while rule-breakers are not always punished, the rule-breaker who really, REALLY does not want to be caught on a particular day is sure to get pulled over, make an unsuccessful attempt at bribery and then be made jump through hoops in court to regain a driving license. Therefore, the ECLP religiously wears their seat-belt, double checks insurance papers and blood alcohol levels and generally behaves like an ideal, law-abiding citizen  – as long as there is a cop within earshot. No cops, no rules; this individual lives on the idea that nothing is a crime (and therefore, work) unless you get caught.

Experienced Cynical Lazy Person – Dog Version (Photo Credit: Wikipedia)

The ECLP can be seen, complete with the characteristic ‘screw the world’ smirk and unbelievable street-smartness, in corner offices, presidential villas and other nice places you’d like to visit before you kick the bucket.

In other words, the ECLP is badass and by golly, knows it.

India is full of both kinds of people as well as a lot of intermediate ones.

Hear about the drunk kid who smashed his car into a bridge? Inexperienced amateur.  Totally the first kind.

Cop who arrested him? On the way to ECLP status.

Cop’s boss? You know it.

What are you going to be? The choice is yours.

But always remember; that seat belt chime? It’s just to keep you from paying a fine. Wear it or don’t – depending on the concentration of Khaki in your area. It’s not really your head that needs protection. After all, Indian heads are the hardest in the world.

But your wallet and your time – now that’s a whole different story.

 

Talking about sex in India: Why is it so damned hard?

Okay, I’ll admit that heading isn’t entirely accurate. Talking about sex isn’t hard in India – at least it isn’t if you’re youngish and male. What I really wanted to discuss here isn’t why we can’t talk about sex. Like I said, we can (if you’re surprised, read on). What I wanted to discuss is why we can’t talk meaningfully about sex, without the haa haa hee hee, without the nudging and gesturing and without the general immaturity.

See, there’s a big difference between talking about sex and talking about sex like a frigging adult. I’ve been to high school in India. I’ve gone to engineering college in India. I’ve worked closely with young engineers in India. I know Indian guys talk about sex. They (that is to say, the uninitiated ones) talk about it like it’s some kind of shiny object in the sky that they want as soon as possible. They talk about it like it’s something they need to grab, grasp, enjoy for themselves. They talk about it like it’s just another toy they want, like a car they’d like to buy. And at that point, I tend to ask myself – aren’t they missing a little something here?

I’m not about to brag about the extent of my sexual experience here, but you see, I do have a little, and as far as I know, the act takes TWO people. You can’t just have sexual intercourse on your own, you need someone to have it with. And notice – I said someone not something. 

The typical Indian guy’s view of sex seems a bit like this – Sex is like this awesome fruit. I need that fruit. I can’t get it on my own, so I have to get a tool to grab it. That tool is a woman. Ergo, I need a woman.

The woman is incidental, little more than an enabler. She’s not the point, the sex is. She doesn’t count, the physical act does. She’s like a keyboard on a computer – vitally important to what you’re trying to do, but not something you really think about or even want to have to think about.

To be fair, this is not something that’s uniquely Indian. I have a number of American and Canadian acquaintances who think similarly, and I’m sure the Europeans aren’t immune either. BUT, in India, unlike America, Canada and Europe, this seems to be pretty much the only point of view that exists. Not the dominant point of view. The ONLY point of view. It is accepted, completely and utterly, without any challenge whatsoever. Accepted in the same way that you might accept the sun rising in the east. If you try to question this notion, people look at you like you’re speaking Swahili.

Why is it accepted? Because we’re a sexually repressed nation.

Indians don’t need this sex ed thingy. We were the ones who wrote the flippin’ Kamasutra, goddamn it!

Sex is dirty, wrong and thirty six different kinds of evil, so just brush it under the carpet. Send your son to grab a glass of water when there’s a condom ad on television. Protect your daughter’s innocence by protesting against sex education. You know the drill.  Save Indian culture while you’re at it too. That’s how it works with ‘respectable’ folk in mainland India.

‘Respectable folk’ fail to understand that sexual repression, like most kinds of repression, doesn’t work. You can’t really effectively repress something as fundamental as sexuality. All sorts of people have tried it for thousands of years and haven’t succeeded.

See, kids are going to find out about sex sooner or later. This shit isn’t hard to figure out -it’s not meant to be hard. It’s arguably our only real purpose on earth.

What we can do, is deny people exposure to the modern, civilized way of thinking about sex. Leave them to caveman instincts, then rave about moral bankruptcy when it doesn’t work. Become an apologist for that repression. In other words, become a member of the ‘respectable’ clan.

It’s time we lifted the covers off this topic as well and let people know the realities of their own biology. The link between letting your teen attend sex ed and seeing a fall in sexual harassment (“eve-teasing”) may sound tenuous but is very real. Let’s cut those giggles and reserve them for inappropriate farts. Let’s wipe those stupid smirks off and bring some maturity here. Consensual sex is something that most of us want and enjoy – let’s acknowledge that as a fact instead of some kind of dirty secret.

The less we talk about it, the unhealthier and more ill-informed our actions get.

Let’s stop being ill-informed. Ignorance may be bliss for a while, but it is never a virtue and it catches up with you at some point in life. You don’t want to be at that point; let’s make sure none of us are.

 

Guess Who’s Back!

Is it a bird…Is it a plane…Is it…CE?!!

So yeah, you read that right. I’m back! Ta da! *crickets*

Ahem…To any of my wonderful readers loyal enough to be reading this, I offer my humblest apologies. This comeback took way longer than it should have, there’s no doubt about that. I’ve missed this space, I’ve missed hammering out those articles one after the other, I’ve missed everything. And believe me, I’d have loved to be back sooner.

Unfortunately, events have prevented me from doing that – namely, the bodily demands of a fresh corporate career, the physical exertions of moving to Bangalore and then back to Delhi in the course of that career, and the emotionally draining effects of a breakup, even one as amiable as mine (more on that sometime later).

At any rate, yours truly is now back – wiser, richer, angrier, edgier, cooler and more intense than ever before. Yours truly’s sense of humor remains as bad intact, as does his fondness for rodents, arachnids, good food, smart apps, intelligent debate and egalitarianism.

Watch this space.

PS: The cynically.engineered blog now has a spankin’ new and totally badass Gmail ID – cynically.engineered [at] gmail [dot] com. All private comments, bouquets, brickbats, threats, bribes, Nigerian scams, inheritance announcements and/or marriage proposals to be sent that way, please. Thank you 😉

 

 

 

 

 

So This Is It For Now!

I know some people would find this a wee bit shocking, but I have decided to take a break from blogging.

Why?

Well, it’s a time thing.

I’ve just got far too much on my plate right now to take time out for this blog too. I’ve been coming to this realization for a while now, but I’ve suppressed the thought. Well, no more.
This is the stage at which my whole life is in a bit of a spin.

I probably won’t be posting for a while but this is certainly not going to be the last time you hear from me. I’ll get back to blogging the moment I get a breather.

Right now, all I can say is, it was great while it lasted! I enjoyed getting up on the soapbox. I swear some of the comments caused my head to swell just a little bit. I got no less than three marriage proposals ( 😉 ). I got an award which I still can’t seem to get over. I gained new insights. I got a chance to share thoughts and experiences with an amazing bunch of people.
Thanks for everything.

The site will stay up till I’m back.
As you can see on the sidebar, all content is under a Creative Commons license, so feel free to copy, paste and share anything you liked on here (I’d appreciate it if you credited me, though 🙂 ).

You can e-mail me here if you want:
cynicallyengineered at gmx dot com

Here’s wishing everyone all the best for their lives!

I’ll miss you guys.

Cheerio.

The Benefits of Dating a Geek

Geeky women get a bad rap in popular culture. Spectacled, un made-up and socially awkward, the stereotypical geek is not even considered as a potential partner by a lot of men.

I’m going to attempt to lay out ten of my own reasons for being in a relationship with someone as geeky as me. I could lay out literally hundreds of reasons, but since time is at a premium these days, I’ll truncate my list to ten. 😀

Here goes.

#10: No shitstorms about dress sense

She doesn’t give a flying flip what I wear. She won’t give me grief about going to the dinner in a pair of jeans that look like I’ve had them forever. She does the same thing, after all!
This is a major benefit for me because my sense of dress is…ah…a bit challenged at the best of times.

#9: She “gets” it

She understands the pain that a lack of bandwidth can cause. She knows how annoying a bug can be. When I rant about the abomination that Network Address Translation is, she doesn’t react as though I’m speaking Swahili.

#8: Broken nails are not national emergencies

The last time my sister broke a nail, she turned the whole frigging house upside down.

She moaned about how horrible she’d look at her upcoming presentation.

She cursed the f*****g idiot (me) who caused the unlikely sequence of events to occur.

It is a major relief to simply hear “Whoops, I think I broke a nail. Meh. So what were you saying?”

#7: She’s intelligent

Of course, anyone can be intelligent, but the geeky types are almost always so.

The ability to have an intelligent conversation about pretty much anything under the sun is a truly amazing benefit. I don’t have to restrict my conversations to a handful of topics at all. She’s always up for a good discussion.

#6: She doesn’t play immature games

I’m talking about mind-games, not Dungeons and Dragons.

Being more than a little socially awkward, she has spent her college years actually learning how to be an engineer (rather than learning how to manipulate people), and is a straightforward person with little use for silly psychological tricks. I know I can trust her implicitly.

#5: She is loyal

Being a fiercely loyal person myself, this is something I really appreciate. It’s great to have a partner you know is loyal. Makes it that much easier to love her and be a support for her.

#4: She accepts me for what I am

She doesn’t care for the macho man image. She doesn’t want me to be a knight in shining armor. She doesn’t expect me to conform to the social image of being a “real man”, any more than she conforms to the social image of a woman herself.
For a pro-feminist like me, this benefit cannot be emphasized enough. I detest the whole idea of chivalry and all the other outdated claptrap that comes along with that. She detests it as much as I.

#3: She’s a passionate, dynamic person

Passionate women are a HUGE rarity in India. Mostly, you just see these zombies weighted down by a patriarchal upbringing, their ambitions revolving around marriage and family.

This is not exactly their fault, but the fact is that I find passionless people rather unattractive.

A’s own love for technology, and her ambition give her a dynamism that causes me to do the male equivalent of going weak in the knees.

#2: She is confident and independent

Knowledge is power!
She may be socially awkward, but self-confidence is something she doesn’t lack at all. The ability to do amazing stuff with computers gives her a sparkling sheen of confidence and independence and boy, don’t I dig that.

#1: She knows how to be her own person

Years of being excluded from what the general population considers “mainstream” definitely help you keep your SELF intact.

I am amazed by her ability to compromise when necessary and yet not lose herself. This is one thing I will always, always admire, no matter what happens between us.

***

Love ya, A!

Letter to A Brand New Human

Amrita is the newly born daughter of one of my (male) cousins. She was only a couple of hours old when I got to meet her at the hospital yesterday – possibly the youngest human I’ve ever met. The name is only provisional and the debate is currently on to decide what name would be better. The fact that she is insanely cute complicates things – there are no names worthy enough. 😀

My dear Amrita,

First off, welcome to the world!

We have all been waiting for you on tenterhooks for days now. I suppose you do not know it at this point of time, but by the act of coming into existence, you have already brought boundless joy to so many people around you, from your parents, to your relatives, to the sweet-shop owner who is now several thousand Rupees richer. 🙂

You arrive at a time when change is sweeping through the land.
In many ways, this is the best time in history to have been born. Today, you are almost certain to live longer, better and healthier than ever before. You are much less likely to be tortured or murdered. You will not be stoned for some silly offense. You will travel more comfortably, more quickly and more safely than ever. You will grow up in a world filled with technology to protect you, to cast a coocoon over you, to save you from harm.

And yet, little Amrita, these times are also challenging times.

Today, you are a child with two wonderful, loving parents who will want nothing but the best for you.

But in no time at all, you will grow up. And when you do, you will have your own choices to make.

Choices that will define your life.

Choices that will define who you are.

Choices that will make all the difference between a lifetime of bitterness and a life of contentment.

Choices that will define the choices for your next generation as well.

You will choose your career. You will choose your husband. You will choose whether you even WANT to have a husband. You will set your own pace in life.

You will choose between the road less travelled and the beaten path.

You will choose between being yourself and trying to fit in.

You will choose the identities you want to carry as your own.

You will choose what facet of humanity you’d want to represent.

Some choices will be easy.

Others will cause much heartbreak and tears. But it is at such times, that you must not forget that in the end, it is you who has to live your life. No one, absolutely no one, can know you better than your own self. No one has more information than you to come to a decision.

Information! Such a precious thing! Information is what you must have. See, hear, learn, feel, understand and analyze. Go on, and enjoy free flights of fancy! Try looking at the world from another lens! Listen to what others have to say! Sip from the brew of life! Let your mind soar free. Let the collective wisdom of humanity rain over you.

Soak in the various colors of your universe. Taste the diverse spices and mix them all together in the melting pot of your mind to create beauty for yourself. To make your world amazingly pretty.

But be careful!

Opinions are like chewing gum. You must chew them until you’ve sucked in their flavor, but you must not swallow them whole.

You have a mind for a reason. It is okay to make mistakes. It is okay to go wrong.

Life is not too easy for anyone and will not be easy for you.

You will have to be confident, for there will be people who would try to put you down for the choices you make. You will have to be humble, for there will be people who know better and genuinely want the best for you. You will have to be smart, for distinguishing between the two would be no easy task.

Above all, you must retain a sense of self. You are not a puppet or a commodity or a slave. It is shocking how easy it is to forget that.

You are unique and always will be.

Be brave, be strong, and catch up on your sleep now, for you have a long way to walk tomorrow.

Don’t forget to enjoy the journey and bask in the sunshine when you get your chance.

Toodles!

Uncle N.

How to Cope With an Aunty Attack

So here’s the scenario:

It’s a sunny Sunday and you’re chilling at your parents’ place. You’ve got the following agenda:

a) Sip your latte
b) Take a nap
c) Make the rest up as you go along

Idyllic stuff.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings.

At first, you relax, thinking it’s not your problem. It’s not YOUR house. There’s a maid to open the door and your parents to entertain whoever it is and there is no pile of underwear lying around on the floor that you need to pick up double quick. All good.

Or so you thought until you peeked into the drawing room. It’s an Aunty. And she’s already seen you. Before you can say “oh, F*ck”, you are summoned into the room for a little tete-a-tete.

Your irritation morphs into incredulous stammering as the Aunty slams judgement upon judgement on your hairstyle, your color choices, your profession, your CPI, your partner, your eating habits, your complexion, your laptop, your financial sense, your accent, your speaking style, your worthiness for marriage, your Indian-ness quotient, your batting average and other stuff that you never thought was up for judgement. You can’t get a word in. She’s like a ripping storm. She just won’t stop. She just won’t lose. And you’re caught in the middle of it. So what do you do?

You open up your Wi-Fi enabled phone that she thinks is overpriced and check out this page. Look at it. Applaud the funky graphics. And read the following tips from an old pro.

Tip #1: Nod a lot

Aunties love nodding. It shows proper respect. It demonstrates proper sanskaars. It makes her feel as though someone is listening.

“Bullshit”, I hear you saying. “I am a principled person and I cannot take it upon my conscience to fake agreement with statements that thrust oppressively patriarchal modes of thought and behavior upon our society”. Well yeah, I’m not telling you to fake agreement.

The good thing about Aunties is that they’re too busy judging to look at you closely. So you COULD, in principle, nod off, without her ever thinking of you as anything other than a nice Indian person. I think you’ve realized what I’m getting at here. Talking to an Aunty can be a good way to get rid of the jet lag.

There are many alternatives to this. I personally use an advanced technique which involves thinking about and repeatedly saying “ohhhh yeeeaaah” with a silly smile on my face. It works really well and brings me to my second tip.

Tip #2: Use THAT expression

There is one facial expression which will put you into any aunty’s good books immediately (which means you get to leave early). Aunties love this expression because it conveys the feelings of tip 1 graphically, which is much better than verbally. A picture is worth a thousand words and all that. So what is this expression? You’re about to find out. Watch carefully now:

🙂

Again:

🙂

Got that?

🙂

Couple this with a nod for maximum effect.

Tip #3: Keep your mouth shut

It works like this. Every minute you open your mouth makes the Aunty stay five minutes longer. Yours Truly once made the capital mistake of complimenting an Aunty on her cooking and was duly treated to a long, involved and highly esoteric lecture on precisely how her aloo-gobhi stir technique affected her son’s psychology to the good.

Unless you happen to be a psychology major, you DON’T want to hear that junk. So keep the compliments and opinions to yourself. Confine your talking to answering direct questions and saying random stuff about the weather.

Tip #4: Lose the handshake

The correct way to greet an Aunty is to fold your hands and say the following in a slow, solemn voice:

Respected Aunty, I bow to the divinity in you.

Of course, you could say it in Hindi like this:

Namaste Auntyji

The handshake is western crap. Don’t do it. Also, unless you want a lecture on how rootless the Indian youth is, you should wipe that smirk and put it in your back pocket right about now. I said SOLEMN.

Tip #5: Be Modest

Nothing irritates an aunty so much as a person trying to take credit for their own achievements. The best policy here is to credit everyone except yourself. Think of it as accepting an Oscar. You thank your family, your friends, your SO, your gardener, your neighbors, your driver, your computer, your pen, your pet cockroach, your favorite political party, your government, all the aashirwaad, that aloo-gobhi recipe and Ronald Reagan for good measure.

And God.

You did nothing. They made you do it. Say that and she’ll pretend to believe you and she’ll leave.

Modest people are boring.

***

Okay. You’re now ready.

The place is here.

The time is now.

Flatten your hair, put on a pleasant expression and take that Aunty head on. Go, matey!

Godspeed.

Honor and Masculinity: How Patriarchy Warps Your Thinking

One of the more delicious ironies of traditional male society, is that inspite all of its talk about chivalry and respect for women, possibly the easiest way to incite a brawl is to compare one of its members to a woman.

I have known countless chauvinists who make tall claims about thinking of woman as goddesses
but bristle at carrying out any action that might have the slightest risk of being perceived as feminine.

In a world of increasingly blurred gender boundaries, one can legitimately ask – why?

Why, sir?

Why be ashamed of being yourself?

Why be so petrified of being seen as doing “feminine” stuff?

The answer lies in patriarchal conditioning. Contrary to what some people think, men are conditioned by patriarchy too. Just like women, they are brought up to “fit in” with their preconceived gender role. And this conditioning certainly affects the way we look at the world.

One of the biggest expectations from a man is financial success. What image do you see when you picture a man who would be traditionally considered “successful” in society? No doubt, he has a great job, a big house, expensive gadgets, a fancy car and depending on your point of view, either a wonderful, loving wife or an ensemble of good-looking women hankering for his attention.

Notice how patriarchy plays into this. The more you earn, the more manly you are. Money makes you attractive to women. Money gives you power over women. Money gives you the power to dictate terms.
Money makes you stronger and more intimidating.

Of course, success is great in general, but for men afflicted by such a thought process, failure is NOT an option. This, I believe, is the reason why men take financial and professional setbacks more seriously than most women, even when it does not result in any immediate financial crisis. A smaller wallet makes them lesser males, apparently, and to a traditionally brought up male, there can be few things worse than that.

Linked to this, is the expectation that men should be aloof, unemotional and fiercely independent. Money gives you economic independence. Aloofness gives you emotional independence. And a lot of things stem from that. Men do not cry. Men do not commit. Men do not compliment. Men do not cuddle. Men do not baby-talk to babies.

Instead, you have the confident Man.

The aggressive Man.

The Man who overcomes all obstacles through sheer grit and an iron well.

The Man who, to his dying breath, defends his personal honor and masculinity with a zeal matched only by his own hungry ambition.

The Perfect Man who does not, and will never, exist.

By no means am I saying that it is a bad thing to have an iron will. It’s a great thing. It’s a wonderful blessing.

But not everybody has it. And no one should be expected to.

I tend to think of myself as a bit more aware of patriarchy than many of my peers. I am aware of how damaging it can be. I am aware of how much heartburn it can cause.

And yet, I have not escaped its effects in totality. At random points in time, I catch my thoughts wandering into the same old zone, and I have to actively stop them. I have to MAKE myself swallow my fake arrogance, and roll down the window and ask for directions.
But as Dumbeldore says to Harry Potter, it is the choices we make, far more than our abilities that tell us who we truly are.

Trying to maintain a perception of fitting into one’s “role” in life is a losing proposition. It is one of the worst things a person can do to themselves. It is the easiest way to kill your own individuality. It is the the quickest road to murdering what makes you uniquely YOU.

You are yourself, in all your glory and form, with all your strengths and weaknesses and issues. YOU CANNOT POSSIBLY BE ANYONE ELSE!

Maybe I can’t quite shake off the shackles of patriarchy completely, but I have made my choice. I choose to be free. I choose to be, who I really am.