A Casualty...

With each passing year, my list of favourite people grows smaller. Sad.

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 Is sexiness a lost art to the happily married?

After marriage, the whole equation changes. Sexiness becomes muted. Those navel-baring miniskirts that seemed perfect for the nightclub when you were 20 somehow appear pathetic and desperate when you wear them post 40. Those fishnet stockings that were perfect for your office when you were a rookie, now appear gaudy when you wear them as the boss.
It isn’t just about clothes, though. It is also about morphing equations with the whole notion of sexiness. You want to appear attractive but also want to be perceived as dignified. You want to appear desirable but only to a bandwidth of people that keeps getting narrower with every passing year. You don’t seek catcalls from hunks or come-hither looks from interns. You want—oh, I don’t know—class, maybe? You may enjoy being checked out, but you want their respect and admiration.

And it's not limited to just marriage.

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Once you turn a certain number on your age graph, things begin to change; your perspectives, ideas about life. Some gentler, kinder changes take place, some as subtle as Govinda's dressing. But thing to remember is that it's all good. And in time, you'll learn to accept these changes with the grace, and even, one might hope, joy.

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“It isn’t normal to know what we want. It is a rare and difficult psychological achievement.”

Don't beat yourself on the head if you don't know what you want to do with your life just yet. Yep, it's normal. Treasure hunt by Alain De Botton.

Burn Those Skirts?

Some years back when I was travelling on an international flight, I was harassed by an Arab guy. When I told my friends about the incident, everyone asked me why I didn't complain to the air hostess right that minute when it happened. It might not sound like a very intelligent answer, but I was petrified. I was so shocked I could not open my mouth. I had to cry to get out of the shock once we landed and I knew I was safe in the women's loo. In hindsight yes, I should have complained. Even later when the flight had landed. But you really can't be prepared for such incidents.


Back then when I told this to S, he first got angry at me(for not complaining, no words of sympathy there) and then he asked me what I was wearing(I was wearing a rather boring black jacket over a black spaghetti top with blue jeans and pumps. Nothing too sexy). Funny thing, which I now realise, none of my girl friends asked me what I was wearing. But a guy did ask.


For those who didn't know, there was a slut walk held in Canada on April 3rd. Here's the link.

Demonstrators take part in the "Slutwalk" protest in Toronto, Sunday April 3, 2011. Protesters hit the streets to protest against rape and sexual crimes in response to Toronto Police Const. Michael Sanguinetti, quoted as saying "Women should avoid dressing like sluts in order not to be victimized."

The recent rapes in Delhi, the slut walk, and a recent conversation with a friend, reminded me of that incident on the plane. One does not necessarily have to be dressed provocatively to be molested. In a sexually charged situation, a man will jump on any woman, even a woman covered from head to toe. Or like A would say, even a man wearing a kilt with a cat. But time and again we keep hearing the same thing: dress properly, dress properly, dress properly. And I am forced to wonder, what does "dress properly" really mean?


I have thought a lot about this topic, dressing, cause it's a topic close to my heart. I love clothes. I love dressing up, always have. And when I have to think 10 times before deciding what to wear, I hate it.


Now I am an advocate of free will. Do what pleases you, as long as your choices do not harm anyone else, in any fashion. So, if some girl out there wants to dress up like a slut, by all means, she has the right to. It's her life after all, and no one should object to her choice.

But here's the thing, what do all those rights and all that freedom really amount to? I have realised, nothing.

As a 21 year old, I would have angrily told you to back off and not interfere in my life had you told me what to wear and not (which is why I never shop with guys). But as a 26 year old, and I hate that it should be this way, I understand that one can not always do as one pleases, even if one's choices do not directly affect another being. Sad huh?

One does not have to be as dramatic as this book suggests, but a woman, like it not, has to come to terms with the fact that:

"[..] a woman’s presence expresses her own attitude to herself, and defines what can and cannot be done to her."


As a woman you have to understand and realise that ultimately you and only you are in the end responsible for everything that happens to you. So if you want to wear that mini skirt, understand the responsibility you owe to yourself and realise the danger it could pose to your life, and then take the decision.


It might seem that by saying women are entirely responsible for their own safety, I am letting men off the hook. Which is not the case at all. No man, even your own husband, has the right to touch you without your explicit permission, no matter if you are sober or drunk, no matter if you are covered in a burqa or naked. But, can we really control anyone's actions and reactions? Nope. So what do we women do? We learn to assess risks and dress accordingly. In short, "dress properly." If you're going to a party with close friends to safe place, you can take that sexy number out of the closet, but you know you can not dress provocatively in a bad neighbourhood.


It is sad that even in civilized societies, supposedly safe environments like your own home, women are not safe. In an ideal world, a question like, "what to wear", would probably never arise. But lately, I have realised, that we might live in a free world but there are still invisible boundaries that we can not cross without getting hurt. So don't burn those skirts, but definitely throw away those quixotic glasses. 

Caught In The Net...

So today was dedicated for Munira's wedding shopping and I bought two awesome sarees and I can't wait to flaunt them! :D Wheeeeeeeee! Okay so, one is baby pink and the other is in hot pink colour. Yes, I bought PINK sarees! :D Yay, yay, yay!


And like always I forgot about the details. Details like what you say? Well, I just realised that both the awesome sarees are made of net material, and well that's all fine. The real problem is that I have only 15 days left to get a liposuction. Or else everyone at Munira's wedding is going to get a full view of my awesome tummy. Yep. That's ofcourse, if she lets me enter the wedding hall in those sarees, in the first place.


Anyway, so when I told mom I am buying sarees for Munira's wedding instead of lengha's, she was more than happy. According to mothers, once a girl wears a saree, she's ready for marriage. I bought my first saree in 2004 for my sister's wedding. But my mom is still hopeful. What can I say?


You know it's only when you go to the markets, the real markets of India, do you realize how the not-so-well-off live and buy. Shopping in the malls has insulated us from the harsher realities that exist a few kilometers away from those malls. We buy in AC malls, with music and assistants to help you, and where you don't have to lug around heavy bags, you instead have carts or then bags with wheels that you can drag around.


But you buy from these markets and you realise, in that whole chaos which defines the Indian markets, how lucky you are.


And while we are on the topic of buying, I bought bananas on the way today. I mostly never bought any groceries (though I can bargain real well :D), dad or mom always did. I only bought the "gourmet" vegetables for the likes of pasta and pizza, that too from the gourmet shops, and so I went to the market like after a long time and good god! Bananas are 30 rupees a dozen? What the hell happened? Did all bananas go to heaven? And my favourite oranges? They're 100 rupees a dozen! Even a litre of petrol is cheaper! I remember buying them oranges at 40/- a dozen last winter. If someone like me finds 100 rupees a dozen for oranges costly, what do the poor eat?


And we girls really need to learn the art of saving from our mothers. I mean, look at us! We have regular incomes and good incomes for that matter and we never save anything. I don't know what happens to my money. It comes and goes. And I am like, erm, yes I have been working for 4 years now, what happened to all that money? I guess I need to open my wardrobe and look inside. Yes, I need to learn how to save from mother. Our stay-at-home moms never had regular incomes like we do, but still they managed to save so much, and we? We don't even know what happens to our money. Shameful.


And so it's decided. 2011 new year resolution is: Learn the art of saving. Yep. I'll be a rich woman someday.

Polka Dots...

Jaan bhi lete ho aur zinda rahe yeh dua bhi karte ho. Kya hai tumhara pyaar aur kaisi tumhari nafrat!


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In other news, lingerie brands in India need to do a fresh market research on what "women in India want". If anyone out there is listening: Hello, you all make crappy underwear.

Look, underwear with floral designs? Very nice, but we don't want crappy flowery designs. You know the big gaudy maroon flowers with blue leaves? Yes, please get new designers.

I can never understand why Indian lingerie brands, even some international brands selling in India, can never get lingerie/nightwear right. Really! How difficult must it be to design a sexy underwear or a cute pajama? Very, apparently.


P.S: Not all Indian women have heavy bottoms, you know what I mean? The pajamas in stores look like they were made for baby elephants.

Once Upon A Time In A Wardrobe...

For the first time in my life, I feel overwhelmed by all the clothes I have. Cleaning wardrobe has always been a therapeutic experience, but for the first time I want to cry. Piles and piles of unused, unnecessary clothes. What am I doing with my life?***

My teenage self would have orgasmed looking at all these shirts, skirts, dresses, scarves, bags, shoes...but at this point in life, I just feel burdened and guilty.


***I never thought clothes would ever elicit such a philosophical question. And it would have been funny, but right now, while I am sittting among mountains of clothes, wondering, what am I going to do now, yes,  it's not funny.