They watch, we please
exhibit change display reveal
dress compete
seduce,
to not
is to not please
is to be a man
is not feminine enough
to be,
is not me,
to please.
change-display-continue-complete
or lose, for
the next door is brighter now.
To compete or not be admired,
which is worse?
To please or not be desired,
which is worse?
To not be the spectator or not be a woman,
which is worse?
Friday, July 19, 2013
Monday, July 15, 2013
The feminine
Growing up is best a strife.
We can only strive for grace by knowing what it means to be foolish.
For, what is not acquired out of your own accord, is as good as not known.
And for, once you 'grow up' to fit into what is considered correct/wise/good, there is little way back to foolishness - you have only so many years while you're allowed the liberty to not know, to explore freely, to be entirely foolish without letting too much at stake (speaking as a girl). Once you align yourself, you see yourself the way the world sees you, you are responsible for maintaining your voice, maintaining that grace, for being responsible and correct.
Time makes it mandatory to take charge sooner than later (again speaking as a girl bound by a social structure), to anchor oneself, 'impose' your identity and place among the many, and seek comfort. it becomes mandatory to take charge, and most importantly be heard and strive to be understood, rather than simply explore and rebel at your own terms.
The fool is lost, unrestrained by the control we exercise on ourselves to be 'right', to be 'clever', to fit into the structure. the fool is vast as the open sky. the fool is as free as he is vulnerable or alone. but the fool is also harmless(read unimportant), he is lovable. it is a self-destructive space to be in alright, in a world where the winners are running constantly to seek only more stability and definition; being lost, is being excluded, and so one must be strong enough to not lose the sight to emerge, to know you have to lose only to know better - if you do tread there. And those who wander, do.
I am glad i have been foolish. As foolish as i wanted to be to live the 'unwise' side of life. I became the fool who did not know who belonged to me, or how to define myself, amongst a world of anchored friends. what came to me, became mine.
i explored everything i could possibly be, and everything i became, i broke. i created without defining the self.
Theres no right or wrong, no good nor bad, and no way to judge a person, alight.
what matters here is that It is those who stand at the edge, who stand outside the set norm, who need most to heed the fine line between madness and being communicative. For weakness or loneliness is far worse than mediocrity. thought one day, over-thinking the next. Exotic one moment, mad the next; the lines are so fine - and one has to be conscious enough to remain articulate at all times just so you don't get taken for granted for being 'crazy'.
I suppose the power of beauty or happiness compensates for everything: all we need is to have a graceful step, the ability to coexist beautifully, and it hardly matters what you think or believe.
Tone too is key in separating the wise from the fool.
One can humor everything and every question can be expressed as an answer. Everyone is wise anyway - what makes one heard then?
everyone around me has a voice. the image aids the voice and vice versa
what is my voice? am i voiceless? am i every kind of voice?
i'm still understanding my voice..
till then bare with the inconsistencies of my voice.
i dissolved everything when i chose so - and then defined myself again.
confusing and alarming those who know me, too. (i'm sure)
In a world of images, you have to be an image too: something impressionable, recognizable, definable. if everything is moving as it really is, where do we centre ourselves?
what do we cling to an image for - and is every image not cerebral and conscious? - that is where the question of intelligent choice comes in, to be able to choose spontaneously and intelligently at every step. pick your causes and your voice from the myriad causes and voices.
________
In the light of Rape being the most used four letters in the news, at the tip of the tongue of every student, boy, girl, page and column of every daily at the moment; (as if it was just discovered and all other crimes were inconsequential in it's critical rise), i add my inconsequential tweet to the mob. i'm in no position to comment on society or indian society or make any such sweeping commnets, but, at a very personal level, i'm able to connect it to a very normal act of foolishness most individuals deals with or explore - the treatment (or mistreatment) of the body. 'growing up' is important in understanding the self, the choices we make may not always be right; being mistreated has little to do with strangers, or class or country, but making yourself clear to even friends what a woman makes of her own self- every day and every minute, and the lesser sensitivity with which men, the other half of the yin and yang, see or need to see their bodies, which is perhaps at the root of the huge responsibility that comes with being a woman.
We can only strive for grace by knowing what it means to be foolish.
For, what is not acquired out of your own accord, is as good as not known.
And for, once you 'grow up' to fit into what is considered correct/wise/good, there is little way back to foolishness - you have only so many years while you're allowed the liberty to not know, to explore freely, to be entirely foolish without letting too much at stake (speaking as a girl). Once you align yourself, you see yourself the way the world sees you, you are responsible for maintaining your voice, maintaining that grace, for being responsible and correct.
Time makes it mandatory to take charge sooner than later (again speaking as a girl bound by a social structure), to anchor oneself, 'impose' your identity and place among the many, and seek comfort. it becomes mandatory to take charge, and most importantly be heard and strive to be understood, rather than simply explore and rebel at your own terms.
The fool is lost, unrestrained by the control we exercise on ourselves to be 'right', to be 'clever', to fit into the structure. the fool is vast as the open sky. the fool is as free as he is vulnerable or alone. but the fool is also harmless(read unimportant), he is lovable. it is a self-destructive space to be in alright, in a world where the winners are running constantly to seek only more stability and definition; being lost, is being excluded, and so one must be strong enough to not lose the sight to emerge, to know you have to lose only to know better - if you do tread there. And those who wander, do.
I am glad i have been foolish. As foolish as i wanted to be to live the 'unwise' side of life. I became the fool who did not know who belonged to me, or how to define myself, amongst a world of anchored friends. what came to me, became mine.
i explored everything i could possibly be, and everything i became, i broke. i created without defining the self.
Theres no right or wrong, no good nor bad, and no way to judge a person, alight.
what matters here is that It is those who stand at the edge, who stand outside the set norm, who need most to heed the fine line between madness and being communicative. For weakness or loneliness is far worse than mediocrity. thought one day, over-thinking the next. Exotic one moment, mad the next; the lines are so fine - and one has to be conscious enough to remain articulate at all times just so you don't get taken for granted for being 'crazy'.
I suppose the power of beauty or happiness compensates for everything: all we need is to have a graceful step, the ability to coexist beautifully, and it hardly matters what you think or believe.
Tone too is key in separating the wise from the fool.
One can humor everything and every question can be expressed as an answer. Everyone is wise anyway - what makes one heard then?
everyone around me has a voice. the image aids the voice and vice versa
what is my voice? am i voiceless? am i every kind of voice?
i'm still understanding my voice..
till then bare with the inconsistencies of my voice.
i dissolved everything when i chose so - and then defined myself again.
confusing and alarming those who know me, too. (i'm sure)
In a world of images, you have to be an image too: something impressionable, recognizable, definable. if everything is moving as it really is, where do we centre ourselves?
what do we cling to an image for - and is every image not cerebral and conscious? - that is where the question of intelligent choice comes in, to be able to choose spontaneously and intelligently at every step. pick your causes and your voice from the myriad causes and voices.
________
In the light of Rape being the most used four letters in the news, at the tip of the tongue of every student, boy, girl, page and column of every daily at the moment; (as if it was just discovered and all other crimes were inconsequential in it's critical rise), i add my inconsequential tweet to the mob. i'm in no position to comment on society or indian society or make any such sweeping commnets, but, at a very personal level, i'm able to connect it to a very normal act of foolishness most individuals deals with or explore - the treatment (or mistreatment) of the body. 'growing up' is important in understanding the self, the choices we make may not always be right; being mistreated has little to do with strangers, or class or country, but making yourself clear to even friends what a woman makes of her own self- every day and every minute, and the lesser sensitivity with which men, the other half of the yin and yang, see or need to see their bodies, which is perhaps at the root of the huge responsibility that comes with being a woman.
(i wouldn't know what men really feel about their bodies - so this is just an observation from popular culture)
Here goes my own little imagery, the frightful image of being mistreated or taken for granted, which almost amounts to letting yourself be raped.
Of letting your body in hands that may not respect your body the way you do,
either because you did not make the other see it such, or because, a man really never can.
This is in hindi. Continued later.
kal main ek khwahish thi
kal main ek khwahish thi
aur aaj
kisi ki hansee hoon
tum hanse ho
apni uss chhat ke neeche
iss rooh mein kuch nahi chupane ya dikhane ko,
woh sundar jo saaf hai
kyon jatati hoon mein dosti
bina duniya ko samjhe
kyon rehti hoon mein chhup
samajhne ki koshish mein
joh chahtein hain mujhe,
aur
jo mere layak hi nahi
aur aaj phir jaati hoon wahan
uss rooh ko khojnein
jise choo kar tum chhat ke neeche hanse
kyon?
kya jataoon useh
jiska ek mazaak hoon main
jisne pyaar ki ehmiyat ko cheena
phir bhi jaati hoon main,
tumme ab
uss mazaak ka nyay khojne
mere rooh ko khojne
uss hansi mein
kaun hain mere apne?
aur kaun hain paraye?
main ek mazaak,
aur main woh mazaak phir karoongi
baar baar,
kyonki tum ek ghatiya insaan ho
aur mein jhooti
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