Archive for the ‘Feminisme’ Category

Thursday evening ..a packed auditorium ..Delhi’s elite ..mostly women ..sarees, skirts, suits, westerns ..and the lights go out.

Spotlight on a woman in her early thirties on stage ..Avantika Akerkar ..in a black slit ankle-length skirt welcomes the audience ..humbly requests for phones to be switched off ..raises a question to the audience -“How many of you are comfortable saying the word vagina?” ..some hands go up, some half-up, some undecided, some staunchly stay rooted to their seats! ..asks the ones with raised hands to softly whisper va-gi-na to the rest ..then louder ..and louder ..more ..and the whole gathering bursts out into a huge roar of VA-GI-NA, uninhibited!

Cracks a joke about the police denying the troupe entry into Chennai few months back, on the grounds of polluting local sentiments ..to which a woman quips –“why! don’t you have vaginas in Chennai?” ..the policeman fumbles ..the lady continues ..“well then perhaps Chennai is full of assholes”! Follows it up by an announcement that only things that vibrate are allowed inside the auditorium ..no its not what the dirty minds think ..its the beating hearts! A huge round of applause for her wit from the audience!

Lights off again ..three female figures seat themselves on the stage ..the vagina is introduced ..by all the names from across the world ..pussy ..cunt ..coochie snorcher ..some thirty-forty synonyms ..a young woman, mid-twenties, comes dancing on the stage, dressed in a short skirt, very short, the full beauty of her long legs visible to the naked eye in the last seat ..she goes into a soliloquy –“My short skirt is not an invitation to rape me. It is happiness, freedom, appreciation ..my short skirt, and everything under it, is mine” ..music dissolves in the background as she asserts her independence and existence ..later the same girl, Sonali Sachdev, replaces the short with a long skirt, and becomes the fourth speaker on stage.
She imitates a gujju woman, pretty old, 75-plus, who talks about her first time ..and what brilliant imitation! ..how she got turned on by an ordinary man ..how she came when he kissed her for the first time, and wetted the car seat ..how this guy loved to see womens’ vaginas ..how he would just stay there between her legs, staring at the one of the greatest enigmas of human civilazation ..of her hesitation at allowing a man such exclusive and prolonged visual access to her most private part ..how she asked him to just come over her, just do it ..how the man refused, and finally made the woman see her vagina in a different shade ..how her opinion of her vagina switched to white from gray ..how she realised that men CAN fall in love with a woman’s mysterious parting between her legs!

Jayati Bhatia ..an acclaimed TV actor ..playing this troubled woman whose husband wants her to get rid of pubic hair ..he likes it clean ..unhindered ..and who encourages her to use some fragrance to murder the smell of her vagina ..the stench he says ..they see a doctor ..the doctor says marriage is a compromise ..the woman is furious ..why me? the doctor says thats how it has been ..thats how it is ..and will be ..they come back ..only the husband comes back happy ..he has a razor ..he strips his wife ..shaves her ..it hurts ..she bleeds ..husband is ecstatic ..he does not see the blood dripping on the floor ..nor the wife’s painful moans ..it itches ..long after the grooming process ..husband is happy ..he likes it now ..clean ..squeaky clean ..he thinks it tastes better now ..the wife thinks otherwise ..she says NO ..and the vagina is never troubled again ..”love me with my hair, and thats the only choice”!

Avantika is a little girl, fourteen or fifteen [and the adapted transformation to a kid’s voice is as brilliant as it can get] ..has a barbaric mom, who catches her pleasuring herself unconsciously by stimulting her clitoris ..the girl receives a good verbal thrashing ..mom has a friend, a woman in her thirties ..she takes an instant liking to the young girl ..the mother appreciates this ..she allows the friend to take her daughter to spend some time at her place ..the girl’s kissed by the woman, on her tender lips ..she loves it ..she’s then laid on the bed, undressed, eyes closed ..she’s touched, not by her own hand ..she moans ..at the top of her voice ..the stage is gyrating with her orgasmic sounds ..its a never-before pleasure for the girl ..the clitoris has 6000 nerve endings ..the male penis has half of it ..the girl discovers clitoris as an organ present purely for sexul indulgence, and serving no other purpose ..at the end of the day, she has grown up!

Jayati continues later, as a woman who teaches other women to pleasure themselves ..who introduces them to the possibilities with their vaginas ..she makes them lie naked ..a mirror between their legs ..and to stay that way for like ages ..women start to see things ..some have never looked directly at their vaginas before ..they thought it was gross ..the lips were not to be fiddled around with ..she makes them think ..and see ..and feel ..the layers ..the pulp ..the fluff ..the pink ..the warmth ..she introduces the use of fingers ..to discover ..to love themselves!

Dolly Thakore’s [an elegant lady in her late forties] monologue is titled ‘I was there in the room’ ..she witnesses the birth of a grandchild ..the husband is at the bed post ..clutching his wife’s hand ..and counting ..1-2-3- …the nurse, in her white gloves is unperturbed ..to her its a routine ..the to-be mother is crying ..the to-be father has palpable tension in himself ..the granny to-be is right there, at the source of life, watching as it opens ..the vagina changes shape, and gives, always ..opens and its a life ..closes and its pleasure to someone ..it grows ..with the cries of the woman on the bed ..there is red ..everywhere ..its a beating heart ..there are tears ..of joy and pain together ..there is a cry ..and there is a life!

Jayati is at her best ..orgasms ..multiple orgasms ..musical orgasms ..aristocratic orgasms ..whistle orgasms ..she acts them ..all of them ..ten or fifteen types ..they make sense as she explains ..the hall and its people come alive ..men get hard ..they shift in their seats ..women are astounded ..its a perfect climax ..about the climax ..she mixes them all up in the end ..there was never a more profound vocal demonstration of multiple orgasms on stage ..or in dreams!

The auditorium is applauding ..all of them ..on their feet ..a standing ovation ..the four women take bows dressed in red and black ..the black hole ..the red world ..there’s a thrill ..an excitement ..it was vaginas all the way ..right into your faces ..sex, love, rape, menstruation, masturbation, birth, orgasm ..a kindness pleaded for women, and their vaginas ..its not just a body part ..its a symbol ..of female empowerment …of individuality!

And that my friends, was Vagina Monologues!

I’m not exactly a changed man after the show. I’m just more sane perhaps!


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How bad can life get without a personal computer, that indeed was incredibly personal to me! Reading Mark Tully while sipping on beer in this discounted-for-IIT’ians pub, in the company of this guy who scribbled his totally impulsive poetry on the high-quality table napkins, was indeed some experience this evening. It’s hard to believe that getting rid of your computer can possibly be a life-twisting enterprise! I mean I have visited this same pub like thrice this week already, went for hookah yesterday with few getting-rich-soon guys, reading obsessively in the new year, breakfasting before morning lectures, and ofcourse, attending lectures as well! That’s not meeeee!

Anyway, met this friend who came down from Zurich, and got me yummy Swiss chocolates. Wish I didn’t have to confess, but her being irresistibly gorgeous did decently itch my singlehood! Sigh 😦

And Urvashi actually did a good thing by calling me up while I wasted away pubbing desperately. I pitched her with an if-available-then-lets-mingle request, but she ain’t quite ready yet! She offered to find me someone from the HT Matrimonial, which elicited a most extempore response – “shaadi ni karni oye! I’d rather stay single than permanently mingle right away!” Little did I realise, that wasn’t quite the perfect reply!

“Why do all men run away from commitment?”

Yep, I should have known this was coming! Because intuition works, and it did!

I couldn’t agree more with what you say Urvashi. The tougher part is explaining it in a man’s capacity! How am I at fault! The Creator hardwired such obstinately repulsive disposition in my cranium, and kicked me on this unfair planet!

How reasonable do I sound if I say women do get (much) more involved in relationships in later stages, while men are all romantically libidinous initially! I remember this from the Batman series – “never play with the affections of a woman in love”! I’m no Sigmund Freud Junior to create my own interpretation of how men and women feel differently when in love! But it’s probably not universally true without occasional fails. I mean there are stable, future-secured affairs involving doting duos! Perhaps having a girl in his life massages a man’s ego, makes him feel positive about himself, or may be completes him which most men might not want to confess to. While a man in her life is like a most beautiful event to a woman, which ain’t hard to believe considering its a feminine force working behind the scenes. It must mean something when women get to bear the offspring, and not men – they undoubtedly have this infinite capacity to love, at least decently more than most men! And not that men can’t love reciprocally: just that Mars’ians and Venus’ians feel a lot differently about it. A not-so obvious deviation in perspective is acceptable from the two sexes right!

This certainly is not the best and the maximum I could have spoken about it, but the sex-dependent parameters of love make like an unending debate. They think we jump at the mention of any variations of the word ‘commit’, but I guess its just a matter of perception. The love of a man unwilling to commit wouldn’t in all probability reduce itself. Not necessarily I mean. I could say men have a lot on their minds, equally if not more important than the love of a woman. So do the new-age women I guess. Its just that ladies attach overwhelming importance to a relationship, and they will show it, while the man just wouldn’t! He can’t. He should perhaps, but inherent helplessness is the word!

I just realised I’ve ceased being politically correct on my blog. Or perhaps Urvashi demanded a frank opinion!

I’m no sexist. Just the response to a misunderstood fundamental concept!

By the way, you could say men are like promiscuous bastards, unwilling-to-stop & settle beasts. That could save me some rebuttal here!

Guess some fired-up comments would aptly complete this banter!

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overpossesed! help!

the obsession
intrigues me
has always did
psychology couldn’t explain it
I haven’t quite thought about it
I think I prefer it this way
or I’ve begun to assume
it’s in the obvious nature
of the species
the ‘it’ by the way
is the natural relationship
and sms lingo
I read a lot
or it’s fed to me
orkut scraps
messenger chats
and not to miss
the sms’es themselves!
I’m mostly cool nowdays
resigned to the belief
{which by the way took time}
that ladies
teens or post-teens
and short lingo
are sister enterprises!
synonymous, hand-in-hand
It’s kinda interesting
or a grippy social-psychology lecture
how women have
a language of their own
sweet Lord
different creation was cool
but a parallel world of communication
just for the women!

PS: Though I swear I hate it when guys even remotely attempt to grab a piece from the ladies’ vernacular! A guy saying “lol”! YIKES! It’s no gender-neutral stuff goddamnit!

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they don’t
the winters
the chill
the fur
the wrap
to make it
all the more
beautifully captivating!
we are in love
with them
the beauty
the voice
surreal, and unbelievably nice!
I mean it
they don’t have to
dress it up
for the winters
and hit our senses
ten times over (normalcy)
the skin gets whiter
or red
or pink
it shows less
just right
just enough
for the tickle
for the understanding
for the aspiring need
for the desire
to allow ourselves
to be serenaded
by the virtual paragons
the thrill
of sight
of a gorgeous form
a raw beauty
the falling strand
the hand
that tucks it back
behind the ear
that’s cotton-soft
in the process
sweeping over
some flawless skin
that smells great
feels cold
and warm
the smile
you’d kill for
the words
you’d die for
the touch
you could faint off
the lips
the eyes
saying something
all the time
you find it hard
to maintain attentiveness
you lose a moment
and you lose so much
a thought
an opinion
an approval
a disapproval
a statement
the dreamy gaze
that says more
than words
that are few
but strong
it’s complicated
demands experience
to decipher
her meaning!
yet perpetually
that’s the catch
the race
between Mars and Venus
for the eventual
coming together
the pain
the trouble
all justified
if the aim
is as, or more
as I wish
she’d be!

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