Wednesday, December 14, 2005


I was reading an article in TOI on how the word 'spinster' is associated with a sense of dependence and isolation and its relevance in today's context. At first, it didn't quite seem like a topic important enough to absorb, probably because I felt it would have no standing in my life being a guy. But the fury with which my friend reacted to this issue, I realised I had hit a very sensitive cord deep within hur, which could jepordise the sanctity of my "symbol of oppression".

Although I am not implying that the word spinster is appropriate to describe an ambitious, upward moving lady who knows what she wants from life.Instead thinking of a miserable womyn who just can't keep a man, I see a fascinating, independent lady confident enough to experience life, by hurself. I know these womyn who wear their hair short, dress-up like guys and demand to be equal to men! I don't understand why would you want to be equal to someone who will try to flip his underpants with his toes,while changing, in a vain attempt to catch it? Ladies you are so much more better than that! Why would you want to define your identity by apeing a butt-scratching, emotionally disjunct confused fool!

Most men donot find themselves untill they have found someone by which they define their choices and thinking. We find that essential link to an inner sanctum which leads us to truly knowing and accepting ourselves.I think without womyn we would be lost. Womyn are traditionally more sensitive because they are wired very differently.Recent studies have shown that the neural connections that join the logical left part of the brain to the creative and emotive right part, in a lady, are like an expressway, as opposed to us where it is more like a country road. This gives them a unique ability to be vulnerable and strong at the same time. While we guys are known to bottle up our feelings and desperately require a womyn, who can understand and connect with those emotions, to vent it out. For me womyn have always been a source of inspiration; enriching and mystifying.
So guys give your girl a big hug because you know that she makes your life worth living.

P.S. Incase you are wondering whether 'womyn' is a type over, it isn't. There is this school of thought that the words 'she', 'woman', 'her', 'female' are all dependant on a core masculine word so it's an attempt at being politically correct.

Tuesday, November 29, 2005


I got wired to the net, so to speak, just a week ago. I have surfed the internet before but it wasn't something that had caught my fancy and i still think it still hasn't. I was oblivious to the enitre notion of getting to know the world at your finger tips. I prefer the old fashioned way where at least you would have the satisfaction of slamming the door, a violent click just doesn't do it for me.

I finally got my net connection after half a month of heckling with the phone company and it was only time that I was introduced to this "blog" phenomenon. Apparently it is like a diary, something that you can leave your thoughts behind with. Moments of joy, sorrow, ineptitude, pain, anguish and everyother emotion that one would like to share. A personal account of the world through your unique perspective. A private moment taken out at the end of a hectic day to acknowledge the beauty of life.

But for some reason this seems so unnatural. What I am refering to is this e-log that I am attempting to compile, somehow it is not the same as compared to the furious scribblings on a chosen book which would bear the imprints of your angst even on the subsequent pages. To be very honest I do tend to overtly romanticize every mundane activity, atleast so I have noticed, maybe it is to make these routines seem exiting and different. Anyways coming back to my grouse, this just doesn't feel real.

Writing with a pen and paper has its own charm, a rustic allure which is so sensual, like spending time with a loved one, just the presence can say so much more than what all these words can describe. As opposed to this the mechanical cluncking on a keyboard makes the process of articulating your thoughts seem more like a chore. The sweet sound of sibilance in the quiet of the night when tucked away cozily in the approval of the dim night light,describing the most wonderful moments spent, accentuates its mysticism. The most private thoughts which escape in the din of the day, come back like getting reaquainted with our innermost selves. Like a mirror of our own souls that we fail to acknowledge in the company of others for the fear of being scoffed at. A confidant true to its essence, honest and understanding.

I think with time, I will get accoustomed to the erratic typing, the break in the fluidity of thought to look for 'd' which lies inconspicuosly just around the left-index finger and the hopelessness with which you stare at the pitch black screen when the lights go out before you save your document. But nothing can change the beauty of giving expression to your thoghts the old-fashioned way. What say?


Hey this is my first day and is a work in progress because i havent quite figured how to operate at a level of sophistication which demands more dexterity than pushing a button (read my TV remote). Till I figure a way out to post this on the net (or have i done that already) please bear with.