She's the Man

This one is another write up in the series of sexist stuff I like to write once in a while. The only thing being none of these write ups are actually sexist. Most of them are just an appeal to the audience to treat gender difference as nothing but a mere difference in a couple of organs and the resultant differences in hormonal structuring.

So this time, I want to talk about why someone is branded as feminine or not feminine. Mind you, it’s an important question and most of us have our own view of what the answer to this looks like, but this is just an attempt to put my perspective on the table for some of you who may have never thought about this in much detail; just like some of you might have never thought about what makes a certain retail outlet an A class or a B class outlet. Nevertheless, when asked in a boardroom or when asked to identify one in the market, you tend to automatically be able to differentiate one from another. That’s instinct and instinct is rarely a conscious and thought out decision; it’s mostly subconscious.

To begin with, I want to admit, that all my life I was branded an utter and complete tomboy. The most commonly cited reasons are the following: 

1. I like beer more than I like vodka, wine, bourbon or gin (this is purposely on top of the list) 
2. I can buy a pair of jeans in less than 10 minutes and this includes trial time (provided I find my size) 
3. I’ve driven a truck, car and a bike and I loved every experience and wouldn’t mind doing it again 
4. I don’t care whether guys wear a half sleeves shirt or a full sleeves shirt or a no sleeves shirt as long as the guy knows the difference between ‘berry’ and ‘bury’ is only the spelling and the meaning and also realizes that Jammu is not the same as Kashmir and Kashmir is not the same as Ladakh even if they’re in the same state 
5. I don’t mind wearing keds or flats on a date where I know I am going to be standing all evening 
6. I don’t know how to cross my legs and sit, and frankly speaking, I HATE doing it
7. I cannot say how pretty someone looks if I think she looks like a log of wood
8. I cannot survive conversations around clothes, shoes and bags and which kind complement each other beyond 10 minutes….OK…20 minutes TOPS
9. I work because I love my job and not because it is important for a woman to be independent and make money   
10. I like camping, trekking, swimming, parasailing, snorkeling and have played marbles, gully cricket and hockey as a kid. I was also a goal-keeper at one point of time and I don’t think its social suicide to wear the goalie’s gear!!! 
11. The thinnest my waist has ever been is 30-32 inches and it has never given me sleepless nights nor made me feel like Goliath 
12. I can swear in 5 different languages and it doesn’t matter whether the recipient is a man or a woman (this is at the bottom of the list on purpose) 

This list of course is not exhaustive. It goes much beyond this, but these are the most commonly cited reasons for being branded a Tomboy for life. However, I object. I object to being stereotyped. I’ve spent a quarter of my life accepting and believing that I am a tomboy. I am not. I am just Arnimaal. A girl who does all those things mentioned in the list above and much more, but is still a female as per the scientific definition of what a female is. I don’t care what attitudes and behaviors are commonly found in women because those are nothing but generalizations and I don’t think it is wise or scientific to generalize or stereotype anyone.

Attitudes and behaviors are an accumulation of experience, environmental factors and exposure. How can they be the same for all? These things vary depending on permutations and combinations of genetics, cultural background, parental influences, peer-group influences, social awareness, self-awareness and so many other factors. Even two siblings living in the same house are never the same, then how can one expect two humans of the same gender to be the same just on the premise of having the same hormonal structure? I said, I object. Not that my objection matters or is of any consequence when it comes to your perception, attitude or opinion of me. But I just want to say it out loud that I object!

And I know there are quite a few women out there who would also object to this generalization that we’re subjected to all the time. Just like there are quite a few men who would like to object to what is generally assumed to be “manly”. It’s not fair. I have a good friend who is not what you would call your typical man, and the next thing you hear is everyone doubting his sexuality. That is so wrong. I know him pretty well and I know for a fact that he’s not homosexual, but sometimes it really pisses me off when people look at him with that expression “Oh I know….you’re gay”. Hello people. He’s not. He’s just himself; just like I am Arnimaal.

It’s ridiculous how sometimes we make life too easy for ourselves and just shut our brains up because it is so much easier to be stupid and happy than to be a thinker and frustrated. Ignorance is bliss they say, but for some of us, ignorance is simply not a choice. 

I would like to believe for most of us ignorance is not a choice, but going by the number of people who continue to use ‘tomboy’ for women like me and ‘gay’ for men who like pink, I guess it’s mostly a choice. 

Frustrations of an Arrogant Ass***e

It starts with the immaculate fakes you can pick up for a good bargain in the crowded 'gullies' of the infamous Meena Bazar, picks up momentum at the never-ending rows of concrete and glass buildings along the Sheikh Zayed Road and ends with the poor rendition of the 'Gol Gappas' in the crowded streets of Karama. This city screams ‘FAKE’ the minute you get off at the airport, and what makes it fake is not the artificial greenery or the out of place flowers you see along the road. It’s the people. I have been to several cities in the world, some famous and some not so famous, but nothing matches this one. 

If you've been around long enough, your day would start with freshly baked croissants, a glass of preserved juice and unhealthy cupcakes from the most elite baker in town. Having had your full of empty calories first thing in the morning, you move on to better things, read crazy Dubai roads. You have beautiful freeways decked with tall and garish concrete and glass buildings on both sides of the road. Speed is the name of the game once you’re on these marvels made of asphalt, cement and gravel. Full of people who made it big overnight and hence assume life is a game, driving on these roads is as good as playing a round of NFS Most Wanted, and jokes apart, I’d rather do that sitting on my couch at home than do it out there.

If you don’t get crushed to death by some rich fucker who thinks driving a car with one foot on the accelerator and the other curled up on the seat is cool, the glare bouncing off the glass buildings will definitely make the blood flowing in those expatriate veins evaporate out of irritation. As if that isn't enough, you might even get threatened off the left lane by some reckless pseudo Schumacher tailgating you who is obviously in a hurry to race you to hell and beyond. 

If you do survive the roads and get to your workplace, you might see the day through wondering whether you really deserve to make the money you make. In all probability, you don’t. And if you think you do, step out of the swanky, air-conditioned building you work in, take a walk down the hot-as-hell street and just check with that small time laborer smoking under the shade of the joke of a tree dotted along the road. You’ll probably never want to think yourself deserving enough after that, unless of course you’re as cold hearted as the marble floors of your 21st floor apartment in Jumeirah. 

As the day comes towards an end, you will experience a chaotic racing of the mind as you browse through the notifications of your latest Blackberry Bold, S3 or iPhone 5. It’s evening. There has to be a plan! How else will you qualify to be the happening, chic and suave Dubai citizen. It’s got to be the new club that’s opened on the Marina Walk or the fabulous Japanese restaurant on the ‘30somethingth’ floor of some ridiculously tall skyscraper in the middle of the sea. It has to be interesting enough because you've got to tell your friends how much fun it was and how good the place was too, right? It can be nothing short of the best; otherwise it would be like committing social suicide, right? 

Now if there is a plan, apart from a posh place, you've also got to be wearing posh clothes. Even if you can’t talk two sentences without proving what an ignorant, pompous ass you are, your clothes have to give the impression that your finesse and sophistication is beyond the ‘desi’ hooligans who live in your own ‘desi’ Bur Dubai, Deira or Karama neighborhood. So what if you can’t contribute a rat’s ass worth to a conversation about world issues which impact not just your own future wealth and affluence but also that of zillion others you share the world with, you can always talk about your non-existent interest in art, architecture and literature, right? The Stonehenge in some place in England, the Sagrada Família Basilica in some place in Europe and the Sistine Chapel somewhere near Italy can always see you through a conversation without looking like a fool because you saw it on National Geographic or History Channel or in all probability in some crappy Rom-Com on Star Movies!!! Bah! 

Doesn't it make you sick of yourself? If it does, then please stop being like that, because it surely makes me want to throw up. I know if you’re one of those people, you’re going to be thinking, “Pompous Bitch”. But you know what, if that’s what I come across as, I don’t mind. I’m happier being known as the arrogant bitch than being perceived as the FAKE Pea-brain next door! 

Ridiculous!! If that’s what you’re thinking while reading this, you probably can guess how sick I am of some of the things I hate about this city. But this city isn't that bad either. It has beautiful weather in the winters. That’s the only saving grace. The beaches around Dubai are breathtaking. A walk through the old city walls still reverberates with the remnants of the simple lives people lived here not so far ago. The smell of Oud and Spices in the Souq takes you back into that history which remains unknown to many of the residents of this plastic town. A peek into the village life here gives you a glimpse of all those values and virtues which were once the spirit of this country, but today are found only in travel books and your imagination. The Arabian Nights have unfortunately lost their mystery, magic and grandeur and have been reduced to garish lights, over-the-top decor and redundant materialism. 

Till the folks here realize how they have a ‘Life’ but aren't really living, I’ll continue living in the hope of rediscovering the oasis in the middle of this scorching desert, and in the process, proceed further on the journey to rediscovering the Essence of Arnimaal; the Arabian Adventure has just begun ;)

The Sanctum of Our Love

Far ahead of the horizons visible to the naked eye

Beyond the unknown depths of the unfathomable seas

And high above the heights of the infinite skies

Away from the malice and cruelties of this cold-blooded world

There is a place where I live with you.

The place which is beyond the ego that makes “you” and “me”

The place where all that really matters is “we”

The place where I dont need to see you to “see” you

The place where I dont need to hear you to “hear” you

The place where our silence speaks greater volumes than all our spoken words ever could

The place where we do the things we “want” to than the things that we “should”

The place where I fear nothing, not even losing you

The place where you believe with all your heart that I only belong to you

The place where your pain flows like dewdrops from my eyes

The place where my joys sparkle like diamonds in your smile

The place where we may stand apart, but still are one

The place where this journey finally ends and the place where it all begun

And inside the tranquility of that place is where I want to be

That walled sanctum of our love which exists inside you and inside me.

The Beginning of an End

It’s an unusually long night. In the distance, from the open window, I watch as planes land into the city. There’s a weird sense of loneliness in the air tonight. The folks at the metrological department have predicted it’s going to rain tomorrow, but I don’t think that’s the case. It’s just stuffy; and suffocating and uncomfortable. Pretty much like the weather inside my heart right now; stuffy and suffocating. The clouds inside my heart want to burst and wash away the discomfort. In the form of tears, they want to flow from my eyes and rid them of the urge to give in by finally letting them do so.  Pretty much like the clouds in the humid night sky which want to burst and wash all the stuffiness away with them. But it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen.

My heart feels heavy. Like someone left a huge rock in there. It’s amazing how vacuum which is supposed to be weightless is not the same when it exists inside the heart. In there, it leaves behind this feeling of being trapped under tons of rubble like an earthquake victim would experience. To think about it, the events that unfolded in the last few months are nothing short of an earthquake. Its funny how we humans, who have built concrete jungles and structures which have withstood the winds of time, are capable of giving another human being the power to literally pull away the earth from beneath our feet.

It’s a humbling experience. We are not the masters of our destiny that our accomplishments falsely lead us to believe. We are just humans; mere humans, who are pre-programmed to trust, have faith, believe, love, worry, betray, abuse, take for granted and hurt each other. And we don’t learn or change or mend ways. Even after experiences of being burnt, we are happy to be foolishly optimistic and walk towards the next source of light in the hope that it will bring the desired brightness to our lives. We don’t realise that what beckons is a ball of fire which might bring a lot of brightness to life, but will also leave us with burnt fingers, a scorched soul and a very heavy heart. We just don’t learn, but keep moving on with renewed faith in life and its ability to lead us to happy endings. The only hitch is that those happy endings don’t exist in the real world.

In the real world, life is lived somewhere between heaven and hell. What gives us the most happiness also gives us the deepest of sorrows. The very thing that makes life look so beautiful is also what makes it miserable. Everything is two sides of the same coin. Everything in this world is a dichotomy. 

Blessed are those who find the resolve to detach and attach at will. They are the real rulers of the world. They are the true masters of their own destiny. They are independent in the true sense of the word. Their sadness and happiness is not reliant on another human’s emotion driven behaviour. Such people keep other people at an arm’s length. They seem to have found the secret answer to the question that all the others seem to be struggling to find. 

How close is close enough? That one question which is the key to all the miseries we lesser mortals suffer every time we get close to someone. How close should one get to the light in order to get the brightness from it without getting burnt? What is the distance from the sun which gives Earth the ideal temperature for sustaining life on it and not suffering the fate of a very hot Mercury or an extraordinarily cold Pluto?

This one question can transform the lives of many other miserable people out there who like me at this moment are wondering when they let another person peek so deep into them that he or she ended up controlling their smiles and their tears. I’ve already embarked on my journey to unravel this mystery. When do you plan to begin?

Mundane thoughts

Life just doesn't stop amusing me with its cruel, satirical sense of humor. And more than life, I am amazed at my own naivety as I continue being "amused" with its cruel sense of humor. By now, it should stop taking me by surprise. But I guess I still have a long way to go before I know life and its silly sense of humor to a point where it becomes completely expected and predictable!!

Anyway, let's just get back to the point and stay there. My naivety or as I like to call it, my "foolish optimism" is another chapter altogether and I could write volumes on how this "foolishly optimistic" take on life has proved very costly to me and my near and dear ones.

A couple of days back, I was on the top of the world. I was about to be visited in a couple of days by my dear cousin and her little treasure, my niece. I had worked out her itinerary here in Dubai right up to the last detail, including where all I would take her and how many times we would leave my niece and my mom behind at home for some female bonding over a couple of drinks or maybe exhaustive shopping. And then we got the news! My cousin's sister in law, the sister in law's husband and their one year old baby had all been crushed to death in a gory road accident while returning from attending a wedding. I felt like the earth had been pulled away from beneath my feet. 

This girl had got married the same year as I did. Luckily for her, she had an absolutely perfect marriage and was even blessed with a baby girl within a year. She was the apple of her parents' eyes and her elder brother, my cousin sister's husband, loved her to pieces. Her little daughter.....that angel was one of the cutest kids I've ever seen. And her husband I have been told was an excellent man. You know what's worst. She was just 28!!!! I still cannot believe she is the same girl whom I had met not so many years back at my sister's wedding. All I remember of her is that wide warm smile on her lips as she watched her brother and my brother celebrate one of the most significant days of their lives. And I cannot get that face or that perfect radiant smile out of my mind. 

What had she done to deserve a fate so cruel? Her husband was not drunk driving. I don't think the guy was even speeding for chrissakes! Its just the cruelties of  life! And what did that little child do? It had not even been a complete year since she had come into this world. If life wanted to take her away so soon, why even bother bringing her into this world. And you know the worst thing? In moments like these, no matter how much your heart aches, there is nothing you can say to those who grieve this loss. Its not like it was some 70-80 year old sick person for whom you can say "Well at least it was a life well lived" or a terminally ill patient for whom you can say "Finally she has been relieved of her pain". The fact is you cant say anything. Even if your heart bleeds, there is nothing you can say to those who grieve a demise so unfortunate and untimely!

The point is....why am I writing about this. Two reasons. 

Firstly I had to vent it out somewhere. I can't get that girl or the memory of her out of my mind. And the more her face comes to my mind, the more pained I feel. Somewhere my mind refuses to accept she is the same person. I still feel this will all be declared a blunder and she will be back! 

Secondly, I also want to highlight the important lesson this incident teaches me. If there is any truth in the world which is greater than the truth that there is a God, it is the fact that nothing in this life is permanent. Nothing. Whether good times or bad ones, they're all temporary. We can't afford to get into a psychological state of security or a comfort zone, because you never know when something of such devastating proportions happens to you. So don't forget to smile while you can. It may be the only thing left of you tomorrow.........

Finally, every time I read any article related to car accident deaths in the newspaper this day onward, it will affect me at a deeper level than it has in the past.

May your family and you rest in peace. Your smile will always be remembered!

Want to be born as you

If I was to be ever born again, I'd want to be born as you
And of course in return, I'd want you to be born as me.
Because I know there are these shades of you;
The ones which only you can see.

Those shades of you which in some mysterious ways
Seem to beckon my heart to come closer to you.
And those same shades of you which are only known to you
Are what keep you from getting pulled closer to the person you see in me.

It would be my one last chance to get inside your world
And see why in there we are "just not meant to be".
It would also perhaps be that one first chance for you to see,
How in my world, there's nothing more natural than "you and me".

Now I know we decided that this is one matter
Which we should conveniently push to the back of our minds;
But there's no ignoring that one hard hitting fact
That its still there somewhere, even if in some corner far behind.

And then there are these merciless vulnerable moments of deafening silence
Which compel these thoughts to start crawling up slowly to the top of my mind.
Into that very same place which I want you to explore
The day you are born as me

And I know these thoughts are lurking somewhere in your mind too
Hidden in the shadows of those mysterious shades of you
In that same place which I want to explore
The day I am born as you.

It's a long road to fame

It's a long road to fame,

And that road is not so easy.

There are hearts to be broken,

People to be walked over.

There are relationships which will sour,

And emotions which will be ignored.

So many devious plots to be hatched

And many more agendas to drive.

There are feelings to be manipulated

And so many homes to be destroyed.

There are innocent souls to be torn apart

And their darkest fears to be exploited.

It is a long road to fame

And that road sure is lonely!!!

The "TAG"

“She shut her eyes tight as her face winced with the memories of the darkest hours of her life. And then there were flashes. Flashes of her standing there in the middle of the deserted street, looking all around for someone....anyone; anyone who could help her as he mercilessly landed blows at her face and stomach. She faintly even recalled shouting for help. But it was all in vain. Then there were flashes of another night. She was sprawled on the bed; he pinned her down with a sturdy grip around her neck and hurled abuses at her. She tried to fight back, clawing at his chest, trying to hurt him with her blunt nails, but all in vain. And then another night where he stood outside the door, banging it till all the neighbors were awake only to tell all of them that the worst day of his life was the day he married this bitch and brought her home. She recalled trying to pull him indoors and get him to sleep his anger off so they could talk about it the next day, but it was all in vain.

No one was going to help her on any of those nights. All she had to do was help herself. Take that one step which could get her out of all that pain and humiliation; once and for all. But how could she take a step like that? It would mean committing social suicide. After all we live in a society; a civilised world where marriages are not some joke and definitely not determined by a piece of stamp-paper signed by two consenting adults. It’s more than that. It’s about adjustments. It’s about sacrifice. It’s about upholding the family honour. And all these things which make marriage more than that lousy scrap of paper are after all a woman’s business. There was no way she could take that step. She was morally obliged not to take that step.”

And you know what that decision to do what is “morally” right cost her? It cost her self-esteem, her confidence and her right to live a life of dignity.....not in the eyes of the society, but the eyes of her husband, her family and most importantly, herself.

Marriage is a big step. It means a lot of things to a lot of people. To some people it’s taking things to the next level. To some people, it’s securing themselves against loneliness in old age. To some people it’s the need to share every experience and emotion of your life with someone who is obliged to witness it and will not mind doing so. To some people it’s just ticking one thing off the checklist of “things you have to do to be a respectable individual”.

But when does this step become bigger than the people who take this step or larger than the motivation behind this big step?

When do strong, independent, aggressive women suddenly become these weak, abused and victimised symbols of helplessness, desperation and self pity?

Is marriage as an institution so big and magnificent that it robs these women of their inherent nature or the right to a better life?

I’ll tell you what the truth is. The truth is that it is not the institution of marriage itself which is larger than life. It’s the attitude that we as a society have towards women who walk out of this institution which forces such women to live with this pathetic, loser-type attitude.

You know what scares the shit out of a woman contemplating leaving her violent and abusive husband.....No; it is not the fear that he will stalk her for the rest of her life. It is also not the fear that the day they get divorced he will try to murder her just for revenge. It is also not the fear of all character assassination he will attempt to do once they go their separate ways. Despite the fact that these are the things she should actually be worried about, the only thing that really scares the hell out of her, believe it or not, is the tag of being a divorcee and the stereotype that goes with it.

There are going to be millions of questions that she will have to answer even though she is not liable to. Not only to her family and friends, but also to the society at large. And don’t think that not asking her questions is going to make her feel better because at the back of her mind, she will always know that the moment you got to know she has been through an unsuccessful marriage, you’ve already stereotyped her. And what exactly is this stereotype? I don’t think I need to spell it out for anyone of you. Ask this question to your own respective conscience and I am sure you will know what the answer is.

It’s this attitude which leaves a woman no choice but to keep living the life of a doormat. A life which could be used to do better things, scale greater heights, spread more cheer, smile more often, laugh without inhibitions and live without fear, insecurity or humiliation. But thanks to the attitude of people like you and me, she lives a miserable life. And till this attitude doesn’t change, there are going to be millions of women like the one in the story above. 

It’s a pity that a woman who should be more concerned about the threat to her life has to worry about how her own family, friends, acquaintances and society at large will treat her if she tries to break all ties with the demon she is married to.

The Dying Soul

Lost somewhere in this vast space

This space between the present and the past

Is my slowly dying inner soul

Which fails to relate to the time that flows by so fast

There is this unfathomable emptiness

It lacks the air I need to breathe to survive

I have to hurt myself every now and then

And feel the pain that tells me I am still alive

If I don't keep touching my unhealed wounds

There would be no way for me to know

Whether all of the soul inside of me is finally dead

Or there's still something more to go.....