Of Ignorant Judgments and Unnecessary Negativity

My best friend is a Muslim. My maid is a Christian. One of my closest friends is gay. I interact with a lot of ‘fat’ people. Ugliness is in my blood.
Does any of this bother you? Yes? Then leave. I don’t want your stench on my page.
It doesn’t bother you? Good. Because I am about to get super duper angry at those who said ‘yes’ and you are lucky enough to witness it. Take a seat because if you don’t, then I might break that chair. (Yes, I have temper issues. My gun is in the right drawer behind me. Consider yourself warned and sit down before my head blows up.)

Let me make one thing clear. We, human beings, are not eternal.  No, we do not carve our names on this planet for longer than seventy years (I am taking an average, so don’t panic. You may live longer, or much much lesser. Okay…you may panic now).
So why do we act like we own the place?

To set things straight, I do not care if you pray to a different God than I do. In fact, I do not care if you don’t pray at all. Are you nice to me? Good. Then I will be nice to you.
I do not care if your cuisine is different from mine. You find bugs delicious? Cool. In fact, come over to my place. I have a lot of those! But are you friendly? Awesome. Then I will be friends with you.
I do not care what you are like. Your skin is dark, your tummy is flabby and your English is bad? That is okay. Do you breathe in air and have a beating heart? You do? Then we are just fine.
And I most certainly do not care if you are a girl and you fancy me or if you are a guy and you fancy another guy friend of mine. Are you trustworthy and loyal? Excellent. Then you and I will do great…In a very platonic way, though!

Seriously, stop judging people. Stop arguing with people about baseless things. Just stop. You are no better than the rest of us. Don’t say that just because you are stronger, you deserve to bully your way through us or because you are richer, you get to treat me like your slave. Don’t expect that just because you look better, I will automatically drool over you or that because you know celebrities, I will follow you around like a puppy and wait for you to introduce me to these hotshots. (Unless you know Hrithik Roshan. Then, well, maybe. Okay, I am just kidding. *Not Really*)

Understand the thin line between having an opinion and being cruel. Like, for example, it is alright to dislike animals. I personally don’t see what any animal ever did to you excepting for protecting itself, but hey, whatever! Your opinion! But don’t be cruel to animals. Don’t throw stones at them or kill them mercilessly. Don’t do that. That is not dislike, that is pure evil.

But this is exactly what we are doing to our own human beings. We are dissecting and discriminating, forcing our opinions into controversies and convincing mindless people that we are right in doing so. A group of similar people are not friends anymore. A group of people from the same state or country or complexion or caste or culture are.
Hold up. Let me get one thing straight. You can forgive a guy for sexual assault because he is from your caste but when someone from another caste does it, then you beat him up? So the issue here is not the assault, is it?
If you whistle and make weird noises at a hot woman walking in front you, it is absolutely fine, but when she turns around and you find out that she is actually a family member, then suddenly, you zip up? So the problem here is not really the bad behaviour, but more about WHO you direct it to? Pfft.

Remember that down the line, when we breathe our last and close our eyes, we will be buried under the same soil that we drew boundaries over. Our bank accounts will be loaded with the cash that we never enjoyed when we were alive.
When you were born, you did not know. When you die, you won’t care. So why are you creating problems during the journey in between?

Look, I don’t care if you have a third eye, an extra finger, a couple of extra toes or even a tail (Can I take a photo though, please? Just the tail at least? Aw, come on!). I will talk to you and treat you as my own if you just behave like a good human being.

Lastly, I would like to tell you all to pick up those damn phones of yours, get onto one of those annoying apps that I am addicted to and communicate with any person you know who is not of the same caste, sexual orientation, religion or race as you are. Tell them just three words.
Not ‘I love you’, you love-sick morons.
Tell them this.
“I don’t care.”
Because you should not, no matter what anyone thinks. Not because I am telling you not to but because it is wrong to care about all that nonsense.

Okie dokie then, I am going to go. I don’t want to start swearing or anything. Oh, and you may get off that chair now. I am done. And don’t worry. There is no gun in the drawer behind me.
I think.

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She.

It’s 9 AM.

A thundering slap on her cheek sends her flying across the room as she lies on the floor, nursing her smarting skin with her trembling fingers. Standing on top of her, her spouse breathes heavily, a lit cigarette in one hand and a rolled belt in the other. She closes her eyes, letting the tears fall as she welcomes the pain for the sheer sake of the wedding ring strapped tightly on her finger.

Liberation from domestic abuse? Obviously not!

It’s 3 PM.

Her lower lip begins to quiver but she holds back the tears as the man standing in her way shakes his head. She watches her brothers run out to play under the warmth of the sunshine.
“But Father,” she sulks. “I want to go play too.”
Her mother watches solemnly from the kitchen, unable to help her daughter. Abusing his dominance and their silence, her father refuses and asks her to go work. Her longing eyes watch the tiny figures of her brothers running towards the enchanting waves and listen to the sounds of laughter that she can’t be a part of.
Disheartened, she makes her way into the kitchen.

 Protection from discrimination? Surely not.

It’s 8 PM.
She glances at the silent street ahead, her eyes wary of the two men leaning against the shutters of a closed store, smoking. They’re bigger than she is and stronger than she’ll ever be. Clutching her purse tightly, she takes a deep breath and moves one step forward, her heart pounding in her chest. The only two sounds that can be heard as she gets closer to their hunched figures are the hurried clinking of her heels and the indefinable whispers of their voices. She can’t decide which is scarier but by now, she’s trembling. As she walks past them, quickening her pace with every step, she finally remembers to breathe. Her hammering heart calms down as she takes one last look behind her shoulder in case someone is following.
The dark is her enemy and she cannot fight it.

Freedom from fear? Absolutely not.

11 PM.

She screams in pain as the men drag her through the gravel into the dark alleyway. Her voice muffled from the sweaty hands grasped around her mouth, she struggles, knowing what’s going to happen to her. As the filthy fingernails claw into her skin, the endless torture begins, stripping her of her dignity and abandoning her with no fight left in her soul. By the time they leave, all she has is her tattered clothes that barely protect her broken heart.

Safety from rape? Definitely not.

So what exactly is her reason for celebrating Women’s day? Will 24 hours of recognition every year make up for the unending misery?

The day she takes self defense classes because she wants to be strong and not because she has to fight for survival.
The day she finally walks out on the people who make her suffer not because they’ve kicked her out but because she knows she can stand on her own two feet without their help.
The day she holds her head up high and walks past the men with confidence instead of cowering down to their physical and emotional dominance.
That is the day she shall celebrate.
But today, unfortunately, is not that day.