“Not Like Other Girls”

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You know that scene in almost every movie where the male protagonist looks deeply into a girl’s eyes and says, “You know, you are not like other girls,” and the girl takes it as a COMPLIMENT?

What is wrong with the ‘other girls’ you speak of?

They wear make-up and go to parties!!! OMG, so shallow!!!

So what? Is it wrong for a person to make a conscious effort to look good and socialise with others? Is it even more wrong than putting people down? Is it an even bigger crime than bullying?

Why are girls who party and wear make-up put down as shallow?

BECAUSE THEY ARE NOT CONFORMING TO PATRIARCHAL STEREOTYPES ABOUT GOOD GIRLS.

By constantly enforcing that ‘other girls’ are dumb, giggling creatures who only know how to flirt, you are putting down the women who fought for your rights. You are putting down women who have survived horrific cases of sexual assault and rape and still remain brave. You are putting down women who have gone beyond the call of duty to save lives. You are putting down your own mothers, sisters, aunts, nieces, cousins and daughters.

You are letting patriarchy win. You are letting them divide and conquer us.

false sense of entitlement

By making girls feel inherently ashamed to be a girl because ‘girls are catty drama queens’ (a stereotype created by media), patriarchy is trying to drive home the untruth that boys are better than girls.

 

Here’s what being like ‘other girls’ means. It means that you are kind, smart, warm, funny and a responsible person. Because this is what I’ve observed ‘other girls’ to be like.

Is it really such a bad thing to be like ‘other girls’? Think about it.

me and other girls

Every time you are tempted to tell, ‘I am not like other girls,’ remember that you are an ‘other girl’ to someone else.


 

Image sources: Google and Tumblr

Just A Small Rant

via Daily Prompt: Instinct

I don’t share my grief with people.

Call it instinct. Or call it pride.

Show of sympathy by others when I’m grieving is just that – a show. “I understand what you’ve been through…” No, you don’t. You are just trying to make me feel better, which I appreciate, but the words you speak are as genuine as Donald Trump’s tan.

When I’m grieving, leave me to myself. If you want to help, make a cup of tea.

Don’t give me the “There is a life after death”, “It was meant to be” bullshit. Please.

I may not be an adult, but that doesn’t mean you need to dumb down serious things like death for me. If it hurts, it hurts. No two ways about it.

I like my tablets like I like my words – without sugarcoating.

 

Altered

index

 

Strange, how I never saw you

For who you were

And you never saw me

For who I was.

But still.

Your elegant handwriting

Is imprinted in my mind.

Like leaves between the pages

Of a book that was left behind.

But still.

The sounds the keypad made

When I dialled your number

Ring as fresh and familiar

As the rhythm of my heart.

But still.

Your jibes, your taunts,

Your needs, your wants

Get drowned in the memory

Of your tinkling laughter.

Really.

Strange, how time can make

Hell seem beautiful

As if it were viewed through

Rose-tinted glasses.

 

The Fun In Funeral

“When I die,” she declared, “you’ll understand why there is ‘fun’ in funeral.”

Carefree words spoken laughingly by a teenager.

Sixty years later, I was standing at her funeral.

I caught snippets of formal conversation.

“Aye, she was a lovely woman. Always had a kind word for everyone.”

“She lived a long and fulfilling life, God bless her soul.”

A solemn looking boy stood up. He must have been about fifteen, with sorrow making untimely creases on his face.

“My grandmother had a last wish,” he spoke, as everyone in the room perked up at his voice. “Would everybody please gather around the ice-box please? I’d rather tell it all to you so that she can see…” Here, he sniffed and wiped his nose with a tissue “…I kept my promise.”

Many obliging murmurs now. Piqued, I followed suit.

“Here, in this box, lies the best woman I ever knew. And her last wish was…”

He was cut short by a sudden onslaught of…was that blues music?

And was that coming from the ice-box?

“I want to break free! I want to breeeeak free!”

I wasn’t able to hear the rest of the song as it was muted out by the shrill screams of fear coming from the younger women in the room.

It hadn’t sunk in yet to the older people in the room. Their eyes had just popped out, their jaws were slack open, and they were shaking in fear.

Judging by the pandemonium, I could safely say that we’d probably be needing a few more ice-boxes soon.

The ‘solemn’ boy was crying his eyes out in laughter.

“Did you see that, Mom? Best thing I’ve done all my life! Oh, Grandma would’ve LOVED this!”

Well, at least I had expected something of that sort here. She wasn’t someone who would go back on her word, however casually made.


A few weeks later, I visited her house again. Things had pretty much sobered up there after her prank with the ice-box. It was a memorial service today.

The officiating priest had already begun speaking.

“Despite her light-hearted nature and her unfortunate impulse to play pranks on people…even when she was dead” Here, he glared at her grandson, whose laughing eyes were just like his grandmother’s, “…she was a wonderful lady and will be remembered. Peace be with all of us.”

A few sniffs were heard. Some heads shook darkly at her irreverence. Death was no laughing matter.

“Consolations can be offered at the lemon tree beneath which her ashes are buried,” a professional-looking woman showed the way.

A few of us rose to offer our prayers to the departed soul. She was our childhood friend, after all, and who could tell whether I’ll have the chance to come here again?

“May your soul rest in peace, my dear” I said, and stepped towards the tree, as the tangy smell of lemons overcame me. In her typical fashion, she had an X marked at the spot where her ashes had to be buried.

Oops.

Music blared from all the trees.

“Ha ha ha ha, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive! Ha ha ha ha, stayin’ aliiiiiiiiiiiive!”

Well, she definitely had fun at her funeral.

Can’t say the same for the woman who fainted at both the occasions though.


So hey, that’s my lame attempt at a comeback after months of silence. School sure can get tiring!

Oh, and the songs? “I Want To Break Free” is by Queen and “Stayin’ Alive” is by the Bee Gees. Lots of love to you if you see the connection.

Liked it? Hated it? Just meh? Let me know!

Happy 400, Will

celebrating-william-shakespeare-5125440101416960.2-hp

Lovely Google Doodle here

 

 

We know what we are, but know not what we may be.

William Shakespeare

The first work of Shakespeare’s that I read was an abridged version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, back when I was eight. I remember being enthralled by the beautiful name of the play. Whoa, I thought. Think about combining midnight and summer.

Then, the sheer number of characters attracted me: Titania, Puck,  Oberon. And the love quadrilateral with people of similar names. I remember having a headache trying to differentiate between Hermia and Helena, and their confusing loves. A petty eight-year-old, no wonder.

Now, I’m much older, and having read some more Shakespeare (and other authors), I feel that an average human lifespan is not enough to appreciate his insight into life.

Here’s to a happy 400 years of peace and quiet to William Shakespeare. You will love long in our hearts. You have lived quite long there, actually. Whatever.

Cheers!

Mads

Heartfelt

Padding my heart with excuses

From the prick of my conscience

Been avoiding this for long

This was equally my fault

As much as it was yours.

Either I have gathered my guts

Or I’m drunk with stupidity

I hate to admit it, but

YES, I was responsible too

For burning down our

Non-existent bridges.

YES, I was the catalyst

Who sped our inevitable fall

Your mistake does not seem

As unforgivable as before

When I compare it with mine.

All those nostalgic days

Tinted with laughter…sigh…

I know we can’t remake our past

But now that it’s all said and done

Will you find it in your heart

To forgive my folly?

 

This goes out to you…

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Mind-bogglingly insane

Or so sensible that it kills me

Optimistic and ever ready for a bit of fun

Never seen you angry (thankfully)

Indeed lovely with ivory skin and ebony hair

Sweet, smart and sassy

Always there for a friend, no matter what.

Happy birthday to you!

 

Wishing you common sense, brains, and an even larger heart on 13th April. Many happy returns to the infernally awesome  M••n¡$@# .  And yeah, this is my birthday gift to you. No more expectations!

Cheers!

Mads

P.S. – And thanks for the promotion!