Secret Diary of a Feminazi

I

t’s funny how often a woman with a mind of her own and opinions galore is dismissed as a feminist. God forbid if you don’t happen to agree with folks who think a woman is meant to be a voluptuous body sans a mind, a tethered cow, born to serve and please - you are considered an anomaly. If a woman cries foul at being treated as an object, pawed and groped at every available opportunity, she is accused of overreacting.

Ironically even women are reluctant to identify themselves as feminists for the fear of being branded as man-hating, bra-burning, whiny liberals. Even among the so called metrosexual crowd, feminism is still seen as too radical, too uncomfortable or simply unnecessary.
 
It seems ‘Feminist’ is the new four lettered word!
 
As a woman who doesn’t believe in tempering her emotions and words, I have often been at the receiving end of the F-word. Not the type of person to take things “lying down”, I have decided to mend my ways and behave the way the world expects me to.

Presenting the SECRET DIARY OF A FEMINAZI.

I was all of seven when I knew something was right with me. I was on a reclining chair, waiting with my eyes closed, when I felt a man’s hands inside my mouth. I bit it so hard that my dentist needed a tetanus injection. Not one but fourteen of them.

Me, I was a born fighter. I grew up beating my brother and when I finally got married to a man foolish enough to fall in love with me, I didn’t spare him either. On every weekend and holiday, I beat him black and blue, so what if it’s only in a game of Scrabble. Weekdays I am busy, shouting slogans in front of DNA Tiwari’s residence. Why is it so difficult to accept the unwanted and the unclaimed as his progeny?

Actually every time I want to lose weight, I go on a protest fast. Right to cause earthquake by exposing my cleavage…right to be a slut….right to distribute pink chaddis to men who prefer wearing langotis. As long as the world is full of men who have mindsets that refuse to time travel from the medieval ages, I will have issues that will help me lose weight.

I almost lost three kilos when I saw a product threatening to brighten up my privates – all that raving, ranting… Phew! It was so exhausting. “A liberated woman is one who has sex irrespective of privates” It was retweeted 69 times and I almost became a Twitter celebrity! So famous that I had to hide my face behind kajal smeared eyes and shock of curly hair. Someone even mistook me for Arundhati Roy and tried to stone me.

A soap opera

An aggrieved teen uses her "dry sense of humour" to appeal to your out-of-the-bucket thinking. Tee, my guest blogger pours her heart out.

Today, I speak for a cause. I speak on behalf of millions of repressed people. I speak to protect our heritage.

I must confess that my reasons for this soliloquy are a little selfish. Why mum, why must you always treat me like a pigsty if I don’t bathe for a few hours? Whyy??? It’s not like I’ve grown festering sores and flaking scabs!!

*Ahem*

I apologise for that outburst. I have been in the grips of such gross injustice for most of my life *sobs quietly*. But I, no WE, must hold our own. My compatriots and I are all that stand between humanity and complete destruction! Without us, the rest of the world would have already run out of water, and succumbed to some horrific disease! We shield our less-able brothers and sisters from a viral onslaught. Due to our constant efforts to save water and soap (some of us have even sacrificed the luxury of shampoo- my heart goes out to those brave heroes), there is enough for those *cough* over-zealous, neurotic *cough* individuals who have declared a life-long vendetta against those microscopic denizens of the natural world.

Ever wonder why allergies are so prevalent in the western world? Why a little mosquito bite can turn into a swelling the size and shape of Australia? Without a little bit of detritus in our lives, we become weak, diminished! Man and nature, living together- that was how God intended it. If He really wanted us to be dirt-free He would have had soap grow on trees (“And on the eighth day, there was anti-bacterial soap”). Better still, He wouldn’t have created dirt in the first place! We must not deny our natural state: we must rebel against the norms imposed on us by society!

I admit that if my kindred were to ascend to power, many bystanders would suffer. Laundromats come to mind. But that is a small price to pay for humanity’s survival. I implore you, my comrades, raise your arms (Or rather, don’t. We need our audience to be conscious)! No longer shall we be called ‘barbaric’ for our sacrifice. No longer shall we be shunned by our family and friends. We shall make them realise our great contribution to the march of civilisation. Let the world hear our roar, we are revolting! We....wait, where are you taking me? I’m not finished yet! No! How dare you try to oppress us! No keep that thing away from me! I will not bathe, I tell you. Mooooomm, noooooooooo!

Courtesy Google Images

Delhi meets its Water-loo

Courtesy -peakwater.org

Recent findings have revealed that Delhi’s drinking water has something that the rest of the country doesn’t have. As if it’s not enough that the capital is envied for a world class Metro, flyovers that zigzag all over the city, wide roads with a separate set of corridors for buses, sprawling maidans where millionaire yoga instructors practice cross-dressing, bustling markets that terrorists bomb to settle scores with the government, a Rashtrapati Bhawan with a non resident President, a towering Qutub Minar where lovelorn couples engrave their undying love on its ancient, crumbling walls.

Yet it’s Delhites who are turning green and the secret lies in the water they are drinking. Actually it’s also the secret behind Mrs Khurana’s suddenly yummy tadka daal with its pungent odours. So pungent that Ramkali, the neighbourhood bitch died after having it. The secret behind Laloo Srivastava’s toxic fumes that managed to send all the mosquitoes to their next birth cycle. Srivastava Aunty can’t stop bragging about her laadla’s gassy feat. But it’s Malini from Maharani Bagh who is the happiest. She managed to shed 6 kilos in just fifteen days thanks to her diarrheal state. The lucky girl had started her eight glasses a day regimen and has now shrunk to an enviable size four. She can now fit in her 13 year old niece’s skinnies! Yipeeeee.

Delhi’s aqua pura indeed has something the rest of the country doesn’t have - liberally laced with sewage, Delhites can finally claim they are full of shit!

Men and women above 25, lucky enough to have a liver that works have turned this around as a golden opportunity and vowed to drink only “child” beer from Haryana’s highways. But Pinky Pawar and her bunch of gym buddies who flew all the way from Amritsar have been guzzling water like it’s nobody’s business. Two weeks of drinking aqua-toxic from one end and discharging from the other, Sweety was reunited with her long lost waist. Unfortunately Harvinder didn’t take a shine to this all new aqua-discharge diet and is now on a glucose drip.

Delhizens dying to fall ill now have a bevy of sickly choices. Should they opt for water borne diseases or should they conserve and die of dehydration instead?

Meanwhile Delhi Jal Board has been hailing inclusion of sewage as yet another humble attempt towards recycling waste. If we can’t control our waste, we should consume it. Few officials on conditions of anonymity and under the influence of free alcohol were quoted as saying that for water to be contaminated, the city has to get water in the first place! And supporting their theory was our honourable CM, Ms Sheila Dikshit who proudly proclaimed that she uses just half a bucket of water to bathe. It appears Sheila jee washes just one body part a day. Ever since her cabinet heard this good news, they have stopped breathing in Ms Dik-shit’s presence.

So, Delhi has yet another first to its name - a Dirty Chief Minister.

Ironically in this teeming megapolis of 14 million, it’s easier to die than stay alive.Road accidents, road rage, rape, mayhem, mosquitoes, hospital bills, depression, suppression, inflation – Delhites are spolit for choice.And now they have two brand new options – go Ms Dikshit’s way and get killed for raising a stink or drink stinking water and die a shitty death.

This is India shining. Dying of natural causes is a luxury here.

Ash you like it

Image courtesy entertainment.in.msn.com

I wish I had the same friends and well-wishers that Aishwarya has. It’s been over five months and the lady has yet to shed her post-natal fat. Yet all I hear is applause for letting nature take its course and bravado for choosing to spend time with her baby instead of sweating it out in the gym. When questioned about her larger than life appearance at Cannes, Ms Bachchan proclaimed that she’d rather be “healthy” and is no mood to listen to people’s recommendation when it comes to dieting.

Personally I have no problems with Ash flaunting her flab in the tents she wears. In fact I am also happy for Abhishek for getting more than he bargained for.
 

My problem is why weren’t you there to defend me, when I had started looking like Dolly Bindra’s distant cousin during my pregnancy. My “alleged prettiness” was referred to in the past tense and I was branded a moti for no fault of mine. By my last trimester, I couldn’t see my feet and my feet couldn’t see the sky. I was waddling like a penguin and even my Mom (after a lifetime of accusing me of being too thin) had started sniggering at my new shape. My clothes refused to accommodate me and I refused to recognize myself in the mirror. Things took a turn for worse when a heavily pregnant me was asked by sweet little girl in my school – Didi, are you married?


How dare she assume that I am this fat! I mumbled to myself as I shed copious tears for my lost vanity.

The next few weeks whenever I met strangers, I made sure that I acquainted them with my marital status before disclosing my name. Guess what! I am married. By the way, I am Purba.

The Return of the Didi

Courtesy Economic Times

There’s a shiver of excitement coursing through the Trinamool cadre. Their very own Mamata Di has now achieved global notoriety. Soon after Time magazine featured her in their exclusive 100 most influential list, Washington Post went ahead and called her the biggest (note the compliment – BIGGEST!) obstacle to India’s liberalization.

It is indeed a proud moment for Poschim Bongo.

Mamata Di has always been best friends with controversy. Starting as a state level player where she put pressure in CPM’s noses (naak me dum kar diya), she soon graduated to a national phenomenon. A tireless crusader of rollbacks and a slayer of bills, Didi is now the government’s nagging migraine. After stunning the world with her victory over the rusty Reds, as commander-in-supreme of her state she has now moved on to bigger and better targets. The bhodromohila not only decides which colour to paint her city with but also decides on behalf of the PM whether he says yes to Haseena in Bangladesh.
 

It appears Ms Banerjee’s growing clout has world leaders shitting in their pants. It’s not only the fossil CPM and malnourished Maoists who are conspiring to send Didi heavenwards. Korea, Venezuela and Hungary are after her behind (pechhone porey achhe). These bankrupt countries are so worried that they are willing to pour money from their empty pockets into Pakistan’s much feared ISI, who have been assigned the honourable job to kill Di.

It is indeed a proud moment for Poschim Bongo. Their very own Didi is more Wanted than Don.

But Banerjee Di is always a step ahead of her enemies. While the rest of the country was busy making fun of her paranoia of cartoons, it was Mamata who unravelled a hidden message to assassinate her in the cartoon that a bored JDU professor had floated on FB. “Mamata Banerjee eez not a cartoon. A section of the mediaah called it a cartoon. But they are wrong. It contained the word 'Bhanish', which means a plan to assassinate and keel Mamata Banerjee” the Chief Minister clarified at a party meeting. She also alleged a conspiracy through Facebook, Twitter and SMS and said - I am being shown in Facebook. Now, it is my turn. I bheel show you Facebook.




Courtesy India Today

Didi is Didi. Instead of playing victim, she has ordered MP5 series submachine guns for the sake of her safety. Kolkata police is excited about this new development. After years of handling water cannons to disperse the bhodrolok populace protesting against poverty in Nicaragua, they will finally get to play with real toys.

Her fans and followers, otherwise known as Trinamool Congress have joined Didi bachao andolan, launched by their beloved leader herself. Anybody who dares to question her or laugh at her will henceforth be branded as “Ma-oh-eesht”.

In the latest unprecedented development, Ms Banerjee has stunned the world by bringing home the much coveted IPL trophy. It is under her charismatic captaincy her knights managed to overthrow Amma’s boys and staked their claim to victory. As Korea, Venezuela and Hungary watched the live telecast in helpless anger, Dids cocked a snook at them and proclaimed - Bengal is proud. The bhiktry of KKR is like bhiktry of the world. Kim smashed his Lego missile, Chavez started chewing his vuvuzela furiously and Hungary threw its cold soup down the drain. Last heard, ISI is planning to relocate to the Himalayas to promote world peace.

With tears brimming in her eyes bankrupt Didi proceeded to present her knights with gold chains that she had personally snatched from Bappi Lahiri. Ironically the actual Bengal cricket team that had lifted the Vijay Hazare trophy was given the mushroom treatment – kept in the dark and fed garbage. Here is a short quiz for Didi – please name Bengali players in the KKR team that played the finals.

It was indeed a proud moment for Poschim Bongo. From a national migraine, their beloved slayer of Red has now graduated to an international embarrassment.

Korbo naa, jeetbo naa, kintoo lodbo re.

Source 

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/indiahome/indianews/article-2151788/Bankrupt-Didi-finds-hero-CM-claims-slice-KKR-glory-failed-year-Portibortan-taking-SRKs-Knights.html?ito=feeds-newsxml

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/CPM-Naxals-plotting-to-kill-me-with-help-from-ISI-Mamata-tells-US-daily/articleshow/13401800.cms

Confessions Of An OCD

I was in college when I discovered I was cursed. Every time I stood next to a bedside, my fingers would start twitching uncontrollably. It started with a tug here and a pull there and then it developed into a full blown obsession. One look at a crumpled bedsheet and I would be on all fours, wading through a sea of creases.

Believe me I tried my best to conceal this terrible secret of mine. Made sure no one was looking when I lunged towards the bed. But how long can you hide, how long can you cover-up your shameful deeds? My Mom was the first to notice it. That she was shocked, would be putting it mildly but later accepted it gracefully. It’s only a Mom who can say – tedhi hai par meri hai (she may be damaged but she is mine)

Unfortunately this was just the beginning. Soon I graduated to bigger things. Crouching under the table, shaking my head in disgust, arranging neat stacks and trying to bring some order in this chaotic world. It seemed I was the lone crusader, fighting a losing battle. Soon, the dusting cloth became my best friend.

Courtesy - Google Images

The exclusive club of the loonies had just acquired its newest, freshly minted OCD.

I had no idea that I had this coming. As a child I was terrible messy. My books always looked like a “mountain of knowledge”. My cupboard, as if a whirlwind had just passed through it. Each time my Dad tried to clean my study table, he would excavate hidden gems - naughty notes from my teachers, carefully hidden answer sheets, green furry green things that were once chapattis. .. A lot of drama would ensue with my parents launching into emotionally charged sermons and me blinking away tears of remorse.

The only thing I was particular about was my impeccably ironed clothes. I made sure, even my sweater had razor sharp creases.

Life was not this simple anymore. Dust had become my biggest enemy and creases a conspiracy, out to rob my peace of mind.

It became worse after I got married. Suddenly I had an entire house at my mercy. With missionary zeal I would launch myself at dusty windows, excavate ancient garbage from under the bed, and scrub the fridge with rivulets of sweat trickling down my back, till our barsati apartment started looking like the ultimate in orderliness. When relatives came visiting us, I was made to open cupboards and shelves, so that they could dissolve into orgasmic oohs and aahs!

I knew that I was doomed. Caught in a catch 22 situation, there was no way I could let my fans down. So I kept setting cleaner standards for myself.

The sad part is once you start, there is no end to it. As you lie on bed to take a breather, all you see is dust on the fan blades and window grills. While visiting your loved ones, you recoil at the sight of cobwebs hanging tantalizingly from dark corners. You can’t take your eyes off it even as you are devouring your fifth mutton chop, trying to make them vanish (the cobwebs) with your superpowers. When you are out shopping for home decor, most of them are rejected because they didn’t pass the Ray dust-detection vision! Naah...this is too white, too fragile, has too many carvings and you’ll spend most of the day trying to keep it dust free!

The terrible realization that the mess around you is capable of messing with your peace of mind...

Thankfully with realization comes revelation that everything including peace of mind has a price. All you have to do is outsource your worry to a willing, helping hand. The beauty of stumbling upon the inevitable - What you can do, your maid can do better.

It also helped that God with his twisted sense of humour, gifted me a daughter who thinks cleanliness is a state of mind. All you have to do is train yourself to think it doesn’t exist. So the mother and daughter don’t exactly see eye to eye! She hoards what I think is junk and is constantly accusing me when things go missing from her cupboard.

Like any thoughtful mother, I make sure she’s sleeping when I consign junk to its rightful place.

I can’t claim to have recovered. On the contrary, I have many more obsessions vying for my attention now. It does get tough having to juggle so many of them at the same time and I admit that I often end up ignoring my first love. But on days I get nostalgic about my OCD and find myself atop ladders or hanging from ceiling fans, I make sure I’m not home alone. After all I do need someone to rush me to the hospital, in case I have a mighty great fall.

Imagine the terrible damage to my impeccably clean image, if I am discovered under a heap of dust by some random stranger!

P.S The insanity of the protagonist is more imagined than real. Any resemblance to a living character is purely coincidental.

Cartoon is the new Porn

Google images

Extensive usage of objectionable material by NCERT books is corrupting young, innocent minds. 
 
When our esteemed Parliamentarians made this shocking disclosure, it took the nation by storm. Now I know why Vicky spent hours, cozying up to his Political Science textbook! - exclaimed Mrs Khurana. Mr Khurana cursed silently - All the hours I wasted downloading porn when there was a treasure trove of excitement stacked right under my nose?

The much ignored, much ridiculed NCERT books have suddenly acquired an aura of respectability. NCERT office is having a tough time shooing off miscreants trying to vandalize their property and handling an avalanche of eager enquiries about their course books. It seems everyone in India is dying to revise their history and civics.

It all started with the discovery of an indecent illustration in the Political Science textbook for class XI. The fact that it was a sixty year old cartoon reflecting prevailing political sentiments and was accepted gracefully by politicians of that time was deemed irrelevant. That the iconic figures of yesteryears had no problem getting lampooned by Shankar’s razor sharp wit time and again, was ignored completely. All that mattered was our esteemed MPs had discovered a brand new issue to outrage.

Mard Yadav (JD-U) mused - “This is not a cartoon but porn and needs mature minds to understand”

Bhalu Prasad (RJD) counter argued "How does removing objectionable material help in clearing minds that have already been corrupted?”

Justwant Sinha (BJP) shook his head in disgust and spat – I object to MPs & MLAs being made fun of. We are Gods not cartoons.

Congress MP Punjay Nirupam intervened to demand an inquiry against those behind the incorporation of “bad taste” in textbooks. “These so-called scholars (behind the textbooks) are part of a larger conspiracy to defame the political class in this country. Let’s brand them as terrorists.”

It was agreed that, since there are enough cartoons running the Parliament, all depictions of them in textbooks is completely unnecessary. And if anyone is dying for a good laugh, they can always see a live telecast of Parliament in session.

I&B minister Lambika Soni, chipped in – It will only be fair to rename Lok Sabha TV as Cartoon Network.

72 MPs climbed atop tables and threw paper planes at each to express their assent!

After taking into account all hurt and outrage over the meaningless, it was decided that a legislature should be passed making cartoon the new porn. Disregarding the stink emanating from the Upper House (a result of passing too many motions), 420 MPs of the Lower House voted in its favour.

A historic bill was passed, consigning Freedom of Expression to the dustbin of history, damning humour as indecent and accepting intolerance as the best attitude to flaunt.

When Ram Bharose (Aam Junta), raised his hand and asked in a feeble voice– But what about spiraling prices, slow economy and farmer suicides? Don’t you think these issues are more important than cartoons that fail to make you laugh? All the revered, esteemed men and women of honour sniggered and said - Nice Joke! We work only when the court orders us to. And for the rest of non-issues that ail this country, we expect Amir Khan to take care of it.

Source -  http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/2012-05-14/india/31700735_1_cartoon-text-book-intolerance

http://www.indianexpress.com/news/mps-present-a-united-intolerant-alliance/949427/