Sunday, November 13, 2011

Rants from the Past

I have this thing where when my head is full of thoughts, specially angry thoughts, I need to write. Type really fast, and hard just to get them all out of my head. It calms me down. It’s the simplest therapy I know, and the most effective. Almost as good as talking to someone who understands. And sometimes, even better.

And so somewhere in my laptop there usually is some incomplete word doc or the other, full of emotions galore, useful while it lasted, not looked at ever again.

It’s usually never put up for fear of pissing off someone or the other, for being scared of family and friends, for being the usual reserved person that I am.

And then I realized, I’m censoring my own blog. Which kind of ruins the entire point behind having my own blog to begin with.

And then I saw the first post, the supposed vision and mission of my new blog:
I want to write whatever I want, without feeling scared, without being judged, without worrying about society, and worse, friends.
But I want to be me.
And you know what? I should be able to do all of the above being me.
And that’s what I want this blog to be. Me, stripped down to the core. Me, speaking my mind. Me, being truthful. Me, as I am today, at this very moment. Me, being me.

Oh Blah.
Sigh. So here’s me trying to be brave, putting up my last outrage on word, in its purest form.


Dear little Bitch,

I would’ve written this as an insensitive open letter to a Delhi boy, but the simple fact is that you’re not from Delhi, you’re from bloody everywhere which should technically not be listed as civilized, but you get away with it anyway. So instead I’ll just write this as an insensitive letter to you, you little jerk, because that’s how much you annoy me, and deserve nothing more than to be called a little Bitch, because frankly there’s nothing chivalrous, gentlemanly or even slightly masculine about you. Because, well, let’s face it, that’s what you are.

Now here I was minding my sweet lil business, being cordial and nice to you, because that’s what’s expected out of humans in general, and there you were, poking your nose into places which it really wasn’t meant for now, was it?

So I was actually cordial to you. I guess that was my first and biggest mistake, because I realize that people in lil bitchland don’t really ever get spoken to by a girl, now do they? Or maybe I should’ve talked to you more, and showed you a bit of my Delhi Punjabi side, just enough to scare the shit out of you to ensure you maintain your distance. But then, I’m not a Punjabi. And I didn’t believe in roughness. And I didn’t realize you never really graduated from middle school. And were standing in the wrong line when God was distributing brains. And manners.

So you fall for the pretty ones, and it doesn’t really matter if they have brains. Oh wait, we just assume they don’t have brains, now don’t we? And that they’re little flower pots for you to adore, and ogle and drool over. And talk about, let’s not forget talk about.

Because let’s face it. You never really had a shot at the pretty girl, now did you? And she never really did pay attention to you now did she? And the one with the brains, and the looks, and the chivalry and the manners got her now, didn’t he? And you are worse than the chewed up gum stuck on his shoe, aren’t you? And you know what, you just made me appreciate him more, and realize how lucky I really am. And how rare he really is.

So what will you do now lil bitch?

Oh yes, drool over the next unsuspecting half decent thing that walks through the door.

Sometimes I wonder who I hate more. Those disgusting men on the streets in Delhi, who make orgasmic noises when they pass you by, stick just a little too close in the Blue-line bus, stare like you’re public property, or you. The former are openly despicable. But you pretend. And that makes it so much worse.

But you know why I really hate you? It’s because you proved me wrong, again and again. You made me feel like an idiot for thinking that this world is not all bad, and everyone deserved a fair chance. You made my views against prejudice fall flat. You made my pride about not being unfairly judgmental go and hide in pure embarrassment behind my own back.

You made me hate Gujjus, and Chartered Accountants, and Marhus, and Baniyas. You made me judge your family and upbringing. You made me skeptical about your whole gender. And I never liked the fairer sex to begin with, so see what huge awesome choice you’ve left me with. You made me stereotype in the most disgusting way possible, in the way I have always been against it. And you made me realize how necessary it is to act exactly the way society dictates. Because society is made up of worms like you.

You made me abuse incessantly. You made me doubt everything I ever did and said. And you probably shocked and troubled any of my family that might be reading this. (P.S., to my family, this isn't worth being shocked and troubled about)

I hope you’re happy.

In your little uncivilized, unmannered, prehistoric world where women should stay at home and cook food for your stomach and pop out little babies for your inheritance.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do, in today’s world, where women work, and aren’t in office for their legs to be ogled at and lives to be discussed.

And after all this crap, I’m stuck here saving your sorry ass.

Truly no regards,
The Naïve Girl.


  1. V for Vendetta...

  2. @The winner - Sometimes it's required. Just like sometimes it's a competition only in the loser's head. The winner existed, the race did not.

  3. I like, I like !! :)

    I love it when women kick ass. Read this:

  4. @Phatichar - Well...sometimes its just required.


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