The Burqa

Why do women wear it… let me be more explicit here, why do “muslim women” wear it… Let me try and be even more specific—why do [Some] muslim women wear it… ? Okay, first things first… how many of you know what a burqa is: of course you do, right, I mean, who wouldn’t… after what the “clash of civilizations” crazed media’s done with it—with no dearth of help from the Bushites and the rest of his clique… and let’s not forget Osama and his henchmen… how could you have missed it???

But in case you have, or maybe you were too smart to not get jettisoned into the maddening frenzy that you were being tossed into… this is what most of the world thought of us back then (as in the men who unleash such torment on the women of their race/religion). It’s not a pretty picture, is it? But is that what Islam says—to incarcerate a woman in her clothes… ? Or is it something that helps a woman overcome the obstacles that she might be faced with, and not overburden herself with even more.

Of course, there are many women who wear it (another form of the veil that is called the Niqab) because that is what they feel secure in (it’s like a burqa, only your eyes are visible) and they do it of their own free will, and not because it’s something that some “man” has told them to… I would like to provide links here, but wouldn’t want to run the risk of ramming my ideas down anybody’s throat, so please—search and find. And this is what some women wear in the Middle East by the way, where they do reveal their faces.

I have a whole slew of these youtube links, and what I’ve come to realize is that the poor helpless souls that I assumed these people to be ((like the ones in Afghanistan)) are anything but… these are strong, independent women who live in countries like Britain, and France, and Germany… and yes, even the good old US of A.

Except over there in the US, what they wear is a slight variation of the dress and is called a Hijab (head covering) which covers their hair basically, but the one thing that is common to all of these forms of clothing, is that they are used to give women the upper-hand, so to say… but do they, do they really… yes and no, I think; it depends on the type of society she’s lucky enough to live in, where she’s free to express her own feelings—about whether she’s comfortable wearing one, and if it is something that enriches her life in anyway? Because I’ve heard from women born over there, women who’re not only muslims by birth, but choose to be because they are satisfied with what it offers them—an escape from the rigmarole of unbridled consumerism that the world is obsessed with nowadays, where women are used for nothing more than to sell the latest product.

But it’s not all like this, it’s not all doom and gloom, because I’ve been able to see the other side as well… my sisters for example, my aunts, my cousins, even my own mom—none of them wear it, but does that make them any less than those who do… no. And what about those women who are of a different faith, who may dress more casually than you do—what about them… here's what I know, I showed up here, at Mecha a couple of years ago, and met some of the most welcoming and giving women I'd ever come into contact with, and not once did they misjudge me, or mistreat me, or made me feel anything less than… now if we can just extend that to more people around the world—maybe we can start creating the change we want.

(((Maha’s new post, enjoy!)))

Hyderabad Confidential…

Was everyone like this in the beginning??? Just caught the last hour of LA Confidential, and was really pining the fact that I had missed out on the first half of it… 1997, hmmm, been a long time since I’ve seen it again. I think it was my first encounter with Russell Crowe; I don’t think I’d even seen him in that Sharon Stone western yet, that’d come out before, although I’d heard of Basic (Stone) Instinct of course.

But it’s worrisome the kind of corruption that your cops had back then. Do you guys still though, probably not, at least not the way it’s been depicted in this film… because that IS exactly the way it probably is over here… from what you get to read about in the papers, or hear about from people, people who’ve lived here their whole lives and know the place much better than you do.

Extortion, Abuse, Beatings, Extrajudicial killings—it’s all here… sometimes, it’s like I’m living in the wild-wild west all of a sudden. And they’ve coined up such a nice nick-name for it—Extra Judicial Killings—now become “encounter killings”—whenever the police are supposedly attacked by [armed assailants, like these] they are then FORCED to fire back at them—hey, he was asking for it, after all.

I of course have no personal knowledge of how bad it is, since the only time when I had an altercation with the cops was when I’d actually been taken to the police station when a guy who’d jumped the signal had run into me and crashed my bike while trying to catch the bus in front. So I grabbed a hold of the guy, and told him that he’d now have to explain to my Father that the money he’d just spent buying me the damn thing, was doing on the ground, lying on the asphalt all busted up.

The mistake that I made over here was that I’d caught the guy using a trick that one of my cousins had shown me… to hold a person by the back of his pants—then he can’t go anywhere, cos if you use the shirt, he might be tempted to get that off and run away… now, this happened to be the same technique that the police used, and there was a guy (a hawaldar you call him here: a non commissioned officer) watching me do this, and he just went over to the guy and whispered into his ear: just agree to whatever I’m saying ((my cousin translated that to me from the telegu, the local dialect here, that he was speaking in))

Well, my dad and my cousin had already arrived there by that time, and just wanted to take me home; they could care less about the bike, but the hawaldar, duty bound cop that he was, insisted that we go to the police station first which was just a stones throw away… now, I don’t know how many of you have been Unlucky enough to see the inside of an Indian Jail, or any jail for that matter, but it was my first time actually stepping into one…

The place was dark and dank, my god, and the cell area was pitch black… I was only 16/17 at the time, and this was my first time being in prison, and they had the guy who’d run into me and made me crash my bike file a report against me—to which the inspector who was there said I’d have to be kept for the night in lock-up for now—to which my father just exploded, and went over to the inspector’s desk and slammed his fist onto his register as hard as he could, and demanded that he let me out. So the guy just ended up by taking my name down and releasing me.

My cousin, on the way back home later told me that it must’ve been the first time that the cop ever saw someone slam his desk like that, or if he had seen it then the guy doing it must’ve had some serious political clout, which my father didn’t, so we were just lucky to get out of there in one piece.

SHE IS WOMAN

I’ve been searching for this person for years now… ever since I was a kid, really—I still remember my first crush (do you?) and all at five years of age… what’s up with that??? I’d tell you who she was, but I’m saving all that stuff up for my book, which may or may not happen by the looks of it; I always say I’m going to do it now, now I’m really going to do it, and something or the other ends up coming in the way. And we’re back to square one… the only good thing is, it’s always there with me when I manage to come back, and never goes away—so I know what it is that I want to write; I’ve just got to hunker down and write it, that’s all.

Yeah, so about this girl… I don’t know who she is, or what she looks like—or which faith she belongs to, but all I know is that she’s going to have been made just for me, and I’m going to love her to death… well, after all these years (I said since I was five, remember) I hardly think you can blame me… yeah, I also said it doesn’t matter what faith she belongs to—I’m thinking if she’s within the Christo-Islamic-Judeo belt then we might have a good chance of working it out… I just hope I find her soon though, cos I’m really tired of having waited for so long… just waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and…

My only fear is that I still won’t be able to find her, for god’s sake… it’s not fair, I tell you… I mean, at first I’d try and justify my being alone as a test of some kind, but then I’d see almost anyone and everyone having someone; even idiots having idiots, by god, and that would hurt, and make me kind of confused. But I’d still soldier on, in the belief that all good things come to those who wait… and boy have I waited. So you see, after you’ve waited for so long, for something without having any kind of expectations for it (okay, I have to admit, there’s only one: she’s got to be someone I’m compatible with—intellectually, and psychologically, that’s it… I know, that’s a pretty big “it”) you’re just thankful for whatever you’ve gotten, but yeah, if she can be someone who inspires you—that would be heaven right there.

And as if that wasn’t enough, having to deal with the passage of time, I now have to deal with my wonderful Bipolarity issues… “just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in”! But you know something, I’m actually making some progress. I think it’s been one and a half months now since I went under, or over… and that’s huge for a guy who could hardly hold it together either way for 2 weeks at a stretch, for maybe 6 months now… and before that, it was there but not in such strong doses, so if I can manage to not go into lala land again, I think I’ll be alright.

It’s so funny, but for all this time I thought I was like [this] guy, and that everything in this world was made just for me; I just had to learn to convince people to give it to me, and if they didn’t want to, fine—who cares, heck, it’s not like I wanted it anyway—or them… but as a good friend would point out later, it’s not the world that has to change, but you—if you want to survive that is, and if you want to thrive, how in the hell are you going to manage that? Well, she was bang on target, as usual, and I couldn’t’ve been more wrong: of course, it took me a couple of months to realize that. (this song defined me to a T back then)

Actually, there’s another person who I wanted to thank, and I would’ve mailed this to her but she’s excommunicated me from her Facebook page, so I’ve not been able to speak with her for a couple of months now… I don’t think she ever understood how Abnormal bipolars can be. Of course, I thought SHE was being the “difficult” one (((my dear little sisters have so much knowledge of this))) by asking me to change, wtf, when all I wanted was for her to let me be… well, it looks like I did have to change, but the thing I’m most sorry about is for it to have been at her expense; she was a good friend, one of the best I’ve had so far.

McDonald's

…I was having a hard couple of days for the last few weeks—no, no, it’s not what you think—I wasn’t hopelessly depressed, or helplessly in love, or any of that shit… my mom and dad and I have been on the lookout for a good place to settle down in after we vacate our current place of residence, so it’s usually my mom and I on the weekdays, taking the car out, and hunting down all the people who she’s marked off in the paper to go and see for the day… and on Sunday’s it’s my trip with dad, where I have to take him to his best friend’s place, where he, his brother, my father and I go to some places which he’s marked out for the week…

So between the both of them, who’re pretty bushed by the end of the day, it’s just me… and it wouldn’t be that bad, but my god do we have a blazing hot summer this year in Hyderabad… just read it in the paper the other day how the temperature was soaring close to the 50’s in the city (that’s degree centigrade by the way, my god) and after the first few houses, grunt. I give up, my body just says no, and it’s mom’s purse I run to for shade, taking some money and getting a bottle of coke or pepsi, anything that’s in a 600 ml container at least.

But lately, mom’s started filling up this huge thermos that we have with really cold water and then adding as many ice-cubes in it as can fit, and wow—is it just what the doctor ordered, because these carbonated drinks are for shit compared to a glass of ice cold H2O… and that’s what we’d both be having for the last few days… mom’s in Mumbai right now, she went there to visit her mother and sisters, and a few cousins (((hi Javid Bhai))).

So today was a Friday, my day to go to the mosque, otherwise I usually just end up praying at home… and after my dad and I’d come back home from the mosque I told him I’d be going and having my lunch out today, and he said fine… I thought I’d go to Subways (they’d be having their Roasted Chicken on Friday’s I think, or Chicken Sheekh, both equally good) but then at the last minute I changed my mind and decided to go to McDonald’s. It’s not that I have anything against Subways, love their sandwiches, but going to Subways is like going to your Grandma’s house… at least that’s how I feel, and I’m not all that right in the head so don’t take my word for it…

So McD was the next choice, it was a couple of feet away anyways, and the chain that I was going to is in a mall so you have the added benefit of doing some window shopping while you’re there as well… but I was there for the food, so yeah, that’s what I ended up zeroing in on… Ajaaz was a nice guy, pretty helpful, but you could guess this was his first day or something, so I asked him “you look like you’re new here” and he showed me his Under Training card, and I said you’re doing a good job so far. I then took my meal and turned around and saw that the entire ground floor of the place was full, so started climbing up the stairs to the first floor and found a good two seater in the corner right next to the windows from where I could see the autos and cars whizzing by underneath.

A couple of minutes later this group of girls, probably college friends came up behind me and finally decided to sit at the only table that was empty from the sounds of it, but it didn’t have enough chairs in it so one of the girls asked me if she could take one of mine, and I said sure, and then another one of them came up to me and picked up a chair and started taking it back to her table and then saw me and asked if she could take the seat, and I said “oh, I thought you weren’t going to ask, please” and I just sat there, peacefully, and had my Spicy Mc Chicken and left.

Nicky, if you read this by any chance, I found out about Donna Summer last night… man, what a shocker—I had no idea she was fighting Cancer… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to hear her sing “she works hard for the money” the same way ever again.

JACOB’S LADDER

I’d first seen this film way back in 1993, I think, when I’d just moved here from the Gulf… or no, wait—it was 1994/95, after The Shawshank Redemption had been released and I’d seen this beautifully directed movie (by a guy who didn’t even get nominated for his direction, even though it was his first movie ever I think, and there were a host of other people who did—but nobody ended up winning, sadly). Anyway, so the two guys were Morgan Freeman and Tim Robbins, and they both did a wonderful job. Morgan actually got nominated for a Best Actor for this, and Tim, well, even though he didn’t get a nomination, you really identified with him—at least I did—he was like the sort of guy who was a fish out of water, and boy did I know how that felt.

The movie’s pretty good, so I won’t spoil it for anyone who hasn’t seen it yet, but the one line that I can never forget from the movie is “demons are like angels, who’re just punishing you so that you can overcome whatever it is that’s holding you back, and move on to heaven”. And it’s this that the title Jacob’s Ladder refers to; it’s mentioned not only in Judaism, but also Christianity and Islam… and that’s what I wanted to talk to you guys about… last month, a girl had gotten in touch with me expressing her fondness for the pictures that I had taken on Flickr, and asked me if I’d mind getting in touch with her? Now, this was last month, when I’d just come out of my depressive episode (must’ve been around the 20th of April) and I hadn’t logged on in a fortnight or so, which is when she’d sent me the mail so I had no idea it was even there… at first, I didn’t even notice it, but the second time I noticed a different name in my Inbox, and I wondered who this was?

She was very courteous, she told me who she was and where she was studying, and asked me if I could help her with a project that she has to submit for her Graphics Design Class… she said she was interested in the photos of the house—everything that I could take basically, of things that are used every day, and maybe mail it to her… to which I said, sure—hey, it’s not like I had anything else to do. And besides, she liked my photographs, and I was glad to take some more for her. And then, the funniest thing happened—we parted ways, and that’s it. Oh, I’ll write to her again in a couple of days (it’s been twelve days already I think) and ask her how the project’s going (has she submitted it yet, gotten a grade—if it’s complete, can I see it) and send her some more photographs that I told her I would, and ask her if she needs any more… but, you know what, it was alright… and what was even better was that I did it on my own; I didn’t need the help of anyone who I thought would magically transform me into something special. I realized that I could do it by myself.

So I guess what I’m trying to say is, the women who I’d thought had hurt me the most, by giving me this pain which I thought I would never be able to overcome—weren’t the demons that I was making them out to be. Yes, they were hurting me, but that was only because I was maybe holding onto something that I had to let go off, and I did… which is also what that girl from Israel had helped me with… she was from Tel Aviv, and we just spoke to each other like two human beings—two mature, civilized, adults… no problems; we were just two people, who had come together to appreciate art, and that’s exactly what we did. I wish a friend of mine could see this; I think she would’ve been proud, I hope… I have survived an encounter with a talented, beautiful, and gifted woman (she actually taught me how to “send” my photographs on Google, lol; she works part time as a computer tech or something) and it’s been more than ten days now, and not once have I been hopelessly infatuated with her; I don’t feel afraid anymore. I might not find that special someone to share the rest of my life with, but I now know that even if I don’t—I’ll survive.

(this month, I’ve managed not to go to either of my extremes amazingly, AND not to have perilously fallen in love)… right now, I like me just the way I am!!!

NORMALCY

How… okay is it to be… normal?

Wait, let me just go and check the “textbook” definition of that word before I use it… yup, just what I was afraid of, this is what it says in the OXFORD DICTIONARY: conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected.
And I just hate those words, but this is what it also goes on to say, and this is what I’m looking for: (of a person) free from physical or mental disorders.
That’s it right there “free from Physical or Mental disorders”… that’s what I want. And that’s what I’m searching for…

It’s been something like 15 days since I’d been on my last bend, and I’ve had no tumultuous highs during that time, or exhausting lows, which is rather surprising for me… or I at least would’ve been in one high or another by now… the ups would’ve come first, until they would’ve overpowered me completely, and then I would’ve hit rock bottom and stayed there for a couple of days.

But this time, I just thought I’d hold back, just this once, just once, and see what would happen to me… I think I’d just had a conversation about this with Victoria the day before, and she was giving me her advice as she’s always kind enough to do, no matter how hard headed I can be sometimes (I don’t know how she can do it though, honestly I can’t, considering how deluded I can get sometimes) but there are a very few people who are able to weather the storm like that… and I’m grateful.

So there I was, sitting in McDonalds that day, with those funny, exuberant Iranians right next to me, and Oh did I want to start talking with them, but I held back and just managed a polite question or too, and tried not to go all ballistic and eat their heads… of course, when it was all over and they had left, I felt kind of hollow inside, like I’d missed out on a great opportunity… maybe I should’ve let myself go and acted all crazy on them, like I would’ve done before.

But you know what, maybe this is the part of the change I want—maybe there is a place where I can go where I’m not a complete fool (((was that how Richard Gere was behaving when he just steps up to that woman arguing with her boyfriend on the street and he kisses her, and then starts running from the man who’s chasing after him now… I thought that was so cool))) and yet not someone who’s afraid to assimilate himself with others and the surroundings around him, within reason that is.

I made another friend recently and I asked her if she ever regretted the fact that she wasn’t Manic anymore, and you know what she said—she said, she misses the highs, sure (only a manic will ever know what she’s talking about here) but then there are the lows which she is more than happy to have gotten rid off. And she said, to miss that phase of her life, would be very selfish of her, to have to put her husband through it, and her children, and herself… so I think I just have to find some sort of an equilibrium that I can live with, along with all the others in my life.