B-Log

Gurgaon is a gud-gaon but a bad-city. I agree it has plenty of skyscrappers, bpo’s, malls, pubs, etc. But being the “millenium city”, it provides public transport options of the last millenium probably. It’s hopeless!

I feel stranded without a driving license!

Wife-beaters might be stylish. But only as a piece of clothing.

We often relate animal-like, ruthless behaviour with the uneducated, undeveloped part of the society and assume that the ‘high-class’ and ’sophisticated’ part of it are God-sent angels who never indulge themselves in such things. We think that poor and financially dependent women have to accept being physically tortured by their partners, since they cannot feed their families without the man or have no place to go. Whereas, if a woman of today, modern, educated and well aware of her rights, is met with such a treatment, she will surely raise a voice against it.

But why can’t I see it happening? Why are these women still taking all this? All these women who claim to be liberated and independent. Am I missing something here? Howcome a poor illiterate woman, like my maid back home, could leave her abusive husband and manage to take care of her four daughters rather wonderfully, when all these other women say… ‘Oh! But he loves me!’

Nobody has the right to torture you mentally, emotionally or physically… in the name of love, marriage, or any god damn thing in the world.

I find it very difficult to respect people who cannot respect themselves.

Being a clumsy and active kid, wounds and scrapes were an everyday thing. Have never been scared of needles. I remember being at a children’s hospital back to take a blood test in Dehra Dun. I was the only one who didn’t cry when the blood sample was taken. The doctor was quite taken aback when I didn’t even squeak, being the only girl in a room full of crying and wailing boys.

I had to go for a blood test again today and it was such a thrill!!! How the anticipation of the needle peircing through your skin gives you a sudden rush and the disappointment of the actual thing not being upto your expectation. And then you see your blood flowing into the syringe. That maroonish liquid filling up the space in there… rushing in as if in a hurry to catch a train. The needle is pulled out and you go like… hey… its done? Is that it? Is that what all those big hulky guys are actually scared of that they create a ruckus even over the thought of it?

And then it made me wonder about how that thin liquid running through my body is so freaking important. And every other small thing inside me and around me which I so easily ignore. The significance of things is somehow looked over so easily by the daily choas. We never stop to care about it. Oh well, a blood test was never supposed to turn out like this… was it? May be I should go for a mental check up next time. But will they have to suck out my brains for that?

I understand you work 16hours a day and you have no time to socialize. I understand that your income is meager and it’s hard to make the ends meet. I understand that your families are back in your home country and the only contact with humans you make are the ones you have to serve who often treat you like shit. So if once in a while you meet someone who seems kinder than the others, you like to share your grievances, sorrows, joys, sponsorship money, views on the world politics, nuclear war, the burst tyre lying in the trash can, etc etc. Believe me I would be very interested in lending you a ear and even discussing everything with you but early morning hours is not the ideal time to force me to indulge in such talka. That is when I’m extremely grumpy and wishing I could get some more peace and quiet if not some sleep. So my dear cabbies of UAE, forgive me for my rudeness if I snap back and make you shut up but I really would avoid making the morning anything other than good.