Will Write For Coffee

and food and vacations, too.

Month: September 2015 (page 1 of 2)

Crying Victim

I love observing things and people. Behaviour of people on Twitter is fascinating. These are not the people I know in real life. At least not most of them. But I don’t think their real life behaviour would be far from their online behaviour.

‘You are proud of being a Brahmin? Why? Why are you proud of being born into a caste which is considered high caste because of repressive societal practice?’ is said in same breath as ‘oh, wow, I am proud of you Dalit man/woman, for taking pride in the caste you were born in,’ Hmm.

When you counter this argument, there are various possibilities of responses

  1. You are a right wing troll/bhakt. Because clearly, stating obvious contradictions in their statements, makes you a right wing troll only.
  2. You are abusive and hence you shall be reported to Twitter and an FIR shall be filed against you. You see, pointing out things, even politely, makes you abusive because how dare you contradict a liberal’s views?

If you then bring out freedom of speech card, you are doomed. Apparently, freedom of speech and expression is an absolute right for those questioning the government. But if you are a person with right wing political leaning, you have conditional freedom of speech. You see, that is when the abusive vs non abusive card comes in play. I read yesterday a lawyer talk how there is good FoE and bad FoE.. They use good FoE, right wing ‘trolls’ use bad FoE. Nice. This is as ridiculous as the concept of good Taliban, bad Taliban.

And then there is provoking people for a reaction. Non-right wing people are allowed to do that. But the moment you counter them with facts, you are paid by the government to spread bigotry. And misogyny and other patriarchal stuff.

Oh, and let me not even get started on ‘Internet feminists’ – whose idea of women empowerment is their being able to show off their bra strap. Or the amazing conversation I chanced upon on Twitter where people were discussing ‘male/female’ parity in the people they follow on Twitter and how they introspected that they do not follow/retweet more females than males. And they were even, in all sincerity, discussing strategies on how to correct it. I AM NOT KIDDING! They didn’t think this was as ridiculous as it reads here.

Pick your battles wisely, people.

But where does that leave me?

I am a woman, who cannot stand this internet feminism movement, who has a right wing political leaning, who was a former journalist with a left leaning ideologies and who belongs to Gujarat.

Now.. if only I knew how to play the victim card..


Like stop.

Stop being such attention seeking idiots. No, you are not hurting, lovelorn poet, who finds solace in a glass of whiskey and cigarette. You are a #chu, who wants your readers to think you are one broken person who has loved and lost and need to be nurtured.

Every one of us goes through shit. Keep your misplaced sense of self entitlement to yourself. The world does not owe you happiness. No one owes you happiness. You are your own being.

And the brooding, post midnight tweets about longing and melancholy.. No, please no. Please stop.

Yea, yeah, your Twitter account, you could tweet whatever the shit you want, but well, let me tell you, you are doing just that. Tweeting shit.

Damn, I cannot believe I wrote a blog for the #chus of Twitter. I need to read a few trashy books to feel good about my writing.


You Crazy Woman

Just going to take your creepy obsession with me as a compliment.

You know who you are.

Teachers’ Day

Tomorrow is Teachers’ Day.

The internet is flooded with everyone thanking their teacher or mentor who was instrumental in changing their lives. It seems everyone has had a great teacher who showed them proper direction.

When I try too hard, I cannot come up with a single teacher who was the guiding light. (except Internet of course, which has been a constant companion and saviour.)

But I do remember, as an awkward, shy, introverted kid, teachers in my school, knowingly or unknowingly ended up driving me into my own shell by their actions.

These incidents have been etched in my memory so well that I can still recollect them exactly how they had unfolded back then.

I was in second standard. I had not done homework that day. So, one teacher got me to get up and walk up to the front of the class. Every classmate of mine was looking at me because that is what 6 year clueless kids do.

“Why did you not do the homework?”

“I forgot,” I have always been forgetful, I guess.

“Did you forget to wear your clothes?” she asked.

I looked down, sad that I had forgotten to finish my homework.

“Should I remove your clothes?” she asked. She proceeded to tug my pony tail and touched the first button of my frock.

I was sure she will undress me in front of the entire class. I started to cry.

She saw me cry for a few minutes before asking me to go back to my seat.

While now I know she wouldn’t have undressed me, the six year old me was terrified. My only fault was I had forgotten to do homework, right? Why taunt me you’d humiliate me in front of the class?

That I remember this incident even after all these years, so vividly, is a proof that certain issues like social anxiety have their roots in the childhood incidents like these.

Of course, not just teachers, even family members have added to issues like social anxiety, but I’m not going to name and shame them right now. Some day I’ll confront them and ask why they did that, but not today. Today is about teachers.

I was in fourth standard. Fourth year of learning Bharatnatyam in school. I have never been a great dancer. Even now I would need tremendous persuasion if you want to see me dance (and I strongly recommend you don’t). My dance teacher, in front of all girls, who were better at dancing than I was, asked, “Nirwa, who teaches you such bad dancing?”

Thank you for imbibing in me I am a bad dancer since I was 8 years old.

And then in 7th standard. Music sir. For the first time I decided to audition for a music competition for the 15th August celebration in school. After I was done singing, he told me, “Please, don’t even sing in chorus,”

Thank you, sir, for telling me I should not even try. That is exactly what a teacher should do.

Yes, yes, it all happened years ago, and I should move on and not worry about it.

I don’t. (also because as I said it was not just teachers who contributed to all form of anxiety and self doubt.)

At least I don’t try to. But the childhood which is supposed to shape the base on which you will eventually shape your life, is filled with self doubt and loathing, it is not easy. Even now.

You have never been taught to appreciate the good qualities you have, like the fact that I am kind, caring, sensitive.

That I may not be a great singer, or a good dancer, but that should not stop me from singing and dancing.

Dear Internet, thank you, thank you for teaching me it is okay to be socially awkward. That it is okay not to be able to fit in. And it is certainly okay to be different.

That it is okay to be in the minority, because it is us who eventually end up changing the world.

And trust me, some day, I will.

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