Category Archives: death

Vande Mataram

“I just want to sleep. A coma would be nice. Or amnesia. Anything, just to get rid of this, these thoughts, whispers in my mind. Did he rape my head, too?”

I am proud of being an Indian. I am proud that I spent substantial time of life in Bihar. When I was in Delhi it made me proud that my country has a capital with superb metro service and superb eateries. I am proud that NCR boasts of three women being molested or raped everyday in NCR source. And funny thing is, I write the definition of feminism in my GSB (aptly named Government, Society and Business) examination for marks. In this blog you will find a lot of hate posts about women. Now that makes me a true Indian. A guy growing up in booming India, in his mid twenties, having a distorted image of women. Aah I am so proud to be in that category.

Last time when I wrote a about the Kolkata rape case, it was not out of anger. It was out of shame. Now I am so apathetic about it that I don’t feel even shame. Rather I feel pride. Rambling on Facebook, Twitter and Blog is my best way of feeling proud. My pathetic attention deficit syndrome has finally compelled me to change my DP on FB and I have updated it with a pic that clearly depicts that I am not one of ‘them’. I am cool. I am different. I am thinking that I am going to buy a T-shirt that says “Real men don’t rape’. They blog – I muttered. I know I am writing this to show off to get more likes from girls than boys. I am one of those middle class boys who grew up in a society of suppressed sexuality. That is why I gawk at girls as a piece of meat with my fellow friends. But let me forget the blame game here and feel the pride. I am a true Indian who sitting in a cozy room in Chennai with constant internet connection, is writing shit on his pirated MS Word. After this I will lit a cigarette, post the blog and go on discussing girls of my college and how they looked today. That is not pathetic. That is true Indian pride talking.

I LOL-ed on the fact that people are writing sorry to Damini. Why say sorry? She deserved it. That’s a gift from an Indian to a fellow Indian. She was barely called by her name in media. She is always objectified as the victim. Now that portrayal will surely evoke emotions within us. She was just news and will fade away easily. Busy life, busy people. Busy in raising children, rapists. Few hours ago somebody posted that the ‘victim’ died. Aah that’s a relief. Now I can go back to my hilarious posts on ‘December Fool’s day’ and all Mayan Calendar shit. We make jokes on ‘end of the world’. No one realises that India is already dead.

-Fellow proud self-loathing Indian

[Thinking about the next doomsday joke – the ‘in’ thing]

P.S. Vande Mataram means I salute to (my) mother. Did you note that India is also a woman?

Few readings for reflection :

Why Indian men rape

Dear Victim

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Filed under anger, death, India, Kolkata, media, sinbycosmoy, society, TV, women

Letter

To You,

I have drunk a lot

But I will not cry.

Ridiculous?

I am sad.

I’m drunk.

I don’t usually get sad (even if I get dunk).

At least when I get drunk.

So, lets say I have drunk more than avg.

I miss you. I really miss you,’

I don’t have you.

I don’t have to be you.

I want a girl who knows me as well as you.

As if I can share my life with me.

But I really miss you.

I will never call you.

But I will feel the void.

I want you back but not in a normal way.

You know you were who mattered in my life. That’s pathetic. Even if I had cared for you at any point of my life, just dream and be a stone.

 

It is funny that every time I write I try to create a controversy. Is it true or just an exaggeration? I wrote the above paragraph when I was high. Now back to the present.

It is a bit strange that after so many days you called and asked me a question which I expected (not prayed). I prayed that you will ask me, “Are you happy?”. But I know You. You will never answer my prayer. But You answered my expectations. I expected you to ask me something which I will never expect. Something which has nothing to do with me being a being who is trying to survive (and so is everyone). A question which is trivial enough to be asked when you are non-trivial to be answered. So you asked it. “Can you leave cigarette?”

And ironically I answered. I answered in a way which is comforting to me more than it is to you. You know, truth gives hope. I used to think that if I speak my heart to someone, then that person will give heart for me. Not anymore. Now I pretend. You have gifted me a permanent fear of trust. Thank You. Thank You for this lovely feeling of ‘being uncomfortable’ throughout life. If I feel uncomfortable that means I am still breathing. Miracle.

So I answered and answer didn’t give hope. Not to you neither to me. So I avoided the risk of hopes being shattered. Although I am very used to this ‘hopes shattered’ kind of thing from my childhood (may be the reason for my introvert-ness), I still avoid it.

Take Care

And Keep laughing

And continue to make this world (not mine) a happy place to live in.

Me.

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