She is as frolicking a child as the flowers on her cute frock. There’s just so much cuteness surrounding me today. She is singing the song that I used to sing when I was her age, “Lakdi ki kathi, kathi pe ghoda..”. She dotes on her little sister acting like this clingy elder sister (reminds me of those lively frames from childhood where I just wouldn’t let go of my own baby brother :P). Their parents smile looking at the amazing bonding between the sisters. The younger one seems so amused by the personality of her Big Sis. She must certainly be a handful, with all the laughter, chatter, banter and liveliness that she brings forth. I wish there was a way to just make time come to a standstill, for the generation in which these girls will grow up shall be akin to hell. I immediately pray for their safety and security. She’s wearing a necklace which has an exquisite bead. My eyes hover for a second over that beautiful bead and then, almost inadvertently, my eyes fall on her bare neck and the undeveloped cleavage, and it triggers a sudden stream of thought. An eye-lock happens between the two of us, she gives me the widest smile and with her family, starts to leave. I fondly touch her cheek to bid goodbye to her, and I come to know that she has left the bus only when the sound of laughter dies. They say ignorance is bliss, and during childhood, nothing could be further from the truth. Maybe, after 15 years, some naive, gullible girl like her shall be compelled to turn into a storyteller.

Unfortunately, her stories could very well be traumatic. I really do not wish for it, but if what follows below is one of the many gory realities today, then I do not want to even imagine how terrible the situations could get in the future. I do not know all of these women personally, but I would like to share some sob stories, narrated to me by several women who brought me closer to the reality, some of who had their heads held high in the face of the adversity, and the rest became stronger with every blow offered to them. During the past two weeks, my ears have processed news ranging from those that have made me want to shed tears at the drop of a hat, to those that have actually made me shed some tears (which were not my own). I may not feel like a woman when I go out shopping, because I hate it most of the time. I may not feel like a woman when I see a box of make-up in a shop, because I find natural beauty very attractive. I may not feel like a woman when I have to squeeze my way past a crowd to find a place not even remotely close to being called a ‘seat’, because I really don’t mind as long as I’m SAFE. And that is the whole point.

Because I feel like a woman when I wear a sleeveless very-much-Indian-looking (It really doesn’t matter, Indian or western) kurta and I am made conscious by a crowd staring at me as though a woman were some sort of an alien. I feel like a woman when I have to try my best to avoid any kind of contact with a seemingly idiotic man. I stand corrected. A perverted man. I feel like a woman when I am walking down a road with a fear that someone might just pop-up from a bush and abduct me. But a woman can also feel like a woman when blood rushes to her head on the realisation that something ‘grossly inappropriate’ is happening. We’re in the twenty-first century, where a woman is NOT a man’s property anymore. I think every woman should fantasise about hitting a man who wrongs her so that he’ll remember for the rest of his lifetime where to look, where to stare, where to touch, and where to go to save himself, and of course, what to fantasise about. I have been hearing such traumatic stories that it’s like the Universe telling me to grow up and see the world for what it is, and it is almost forcing me to give up hope on the rare ‘good’ (No scope of excellence here) men in this world. When I contemplate upon them, and try to compare the stories, I am not able to realise which one is more painful. Disrespect, negligence, bruised hands, selfishness (to the core), and most importantly, the root of it all, INFLATED EGO ISSUES.

This conservative girl shall shortly be getting married to her longtime boyfriend despite being cheated on. Why? The poor thing is NOT AT ALL aware of it. She stays far enough to want to trust him. There’s another girl who gave everything to this man who had become her Hero, only to end up having a nervous breakdown thanks to acute manipulation, mental, verbal, and physical abuse (including attempt to rape) and what not (and she’s one of the strongest women I know). Similar in causes (albeit different in circumstances) is a story where this brave girl was hit so badly that her nose started to bleed profusely, and she was put on medication for the resultant breathing problems. I was also told about that innocent girl whose so-called husband shot a video during their honeymoon and showed it to his friends. Sick! I think I should release my temptation to write something bitter here, because this post has reached the tipping point. All I have to say is: (Most) men are going to the dogs, aren’t they? [I do have to give a LOT of credit to some men including those who have made me capable of writing this post, and to those who stand by their sisters, their wives, their female friends, their mothers, and other female relatives and basically know how to respect women. They are the ‘real’ men. Because manhood is not about what most perverted men think it is about]

I know that the list is not exhaustive, and there are a lot of unheard stories in motion behind closed doors, inside of a mobile, inside a mailbox, in workplaces, and almost everywhere. I know this rant of mine is not something new. Almost every woman feels the way I do. But I think it is important for us women to understand that we do not need disgusting and abusable men to make us feel happy. We’re much better off without them. I know we are emotional, but showing emotions is a sign of strength, not weakness. Men who have egos the size of an inflated balloon, which is fragile enough to be deflated with the prick of a needle, should be left alone. So my dear women friends, I don’t care if you feel like you’ll die without HIM, I don’t care if you can’t stop shedding tears, but I have just one request: DO NOT beg to that person who is not capable of competing even with the dirt on the roads. Under all circumstances, I want you all to maintain your dignity, even if you feel like you’ll come crashing down the very next moment. Resist all temptations and give a tough challenge to his own primal temptations. That dirty fellow is not worth your tears, darling. If you find someone who’ll accept you for who you are, AND will not leave you alone for some bimbette, hi5 to you! If not, throw the baggage in the dustbin and throw the dustbin out of your house. Act like a cleanliness freak. And promise to help me when and if I am ever disillusioned with my life so much so that I forget that I ever wrote this post, because I believe every woman goes through her share of pain, and if my time comes, I shall turn to you women, but never to those perverted idiots.

Also, I really don’t care how many male egos this post hurts, because that will simply indicate which category he falls in.


2 thoughts on “Woman Venom

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