Fucking Brijesh.

Dee. "I'll have a Caramelized Honey Latte. Iced. Tall. No, sorry, please make that Grande. Non fat milk. Please add whipped cream? Thank you!" I smiled at the guy helping me at the Starbucks counter. Of course I knew my drinks. Non fat milk means that I could manage the whipped cream and God knows I've earned it. And I hope he gets the sign that I changed from Tall to Grande - I think this date will go long enough for me to finish my Grande. As I smile at him, I run my eyes over him, hoping to see him adore my cutesy quirks about my Starbucks drink and I'm not disappointed. Ha! He definitely looks impressed. His eyes have gone wide in admiration. He certainly looks okay, a little bit scruffy, but well, what man is well turned out without some admonishing from a woman? I could work with this. I think his glasses are cute, trendy, and he certainly doesn't look wiry or thin based on what I can see from his plain grey tee, and an open, checked shirt over it. I really can't figure out if there is some lean muscle under there, the shirt is way too baggy. Those shoes certainly look like they come from an exclusive store, I don't think they make Converse sneakers that way, it looks very one of a kind. "Could I have a Caramel Macchiato please?" "Size sir?" "Small." "We don't have a small, sir. We have a Tall, Grande and Venti" "Wow. Okay. Is small...Tall? Oh wow. Please just give me your smallest size?" "Sure sir. Any personalisations?" "No, God no, thank you very much." "Your name, sir?" "Suraj" "You can use my Starbucks card, Suraj!" "Hey, no! This is on me" He has a really cute, shy smile with a dimple on his left cheek.

We walk up to find a place and all the nice comfy couches are taken so we just sit on the shared table that is dead centre of the place. We're the only ones on it, though. I liked this particular Starbucks, it was bang in the middle of the city and walking distance from at least four or five of the nicest, fun places to grab a drink if a date goes really well, and the place itself has a nice urban vibe to it. It opens out into a lovely terrace area that usually has a very well turned out crowd because of it's closeness to all the pubs. Not today though, there is an arty type crowd sitting there raucously laughing. God! Can someone teach them how to dress better? But I like the nice hum of the AC and jazz music inside, so I settle down comfortably and smile. "So" he said, "Blind dates, huh?" "Yes! So far so good though. So how do you know Brijesh again?" I ask. "Well, same college, but we weren't exactly close. But I just took up a new job and we are on the same team and pretty much hang out all the time, it's a really small team. And it helps having someone you know in such a large organisation, you know? So you don't feel like you're drowning in a sea of people! And what about you? All he told me was you guys go back a long way." "Oh yes we do! Our families have actually known each other a long time and we were next door neighbours until Dad decided he had to move closer to the heart of the city. We still see each other's families quite frequently, our folks are always planning one shindig or another. And I'm not complaining mind you, it's great the area we live in. And because they are always tearing down some place or the other and a new pub comes up, it's like..perfect! I am never bored!" "Haha. Okay. Soooo what do you do for fun?" "Well I have a really tight set of friends, you know? So most evenings after work, we just like checking out new places and I like that this city is getting edgier and more urbanised and sophisticated, and the food scene is getting better too. I like exploring new cuisines, and there's a new Lebanese restaurant that's on our list. Oh and I do Pilates most weekdays, it's a lot of fun. And I'm trying this new place next week that is offering Hot Yoga - you know, not that I need it, but sounds interesting!" I smile at him again. He certainly looks impressed. He is lapping it all up. "So what do you do for fun?" I ask him. He might just be nice enough to introduce to the gang, maybe we can even go to some places he is a regular at. Mona isn't the only one who can turn up with a hot new thing in her arms every week. Besides, this guy doesn't seem run of mill and it'll be a nice novelty for the group. "...so yeah, we kind of try to make it a point to meet there every other week. The food is nice and we can sit there as long as we want to and talk!" "Sorry, where is this again?" "Chai Patty? In Indranagar. Small cosy place and you have mattresses on the floor and hot bajjis when it's raining. I mean it's not on the menu, but because we've been meeting there for over two years now, they are nice enough to make it for us! We're loud and we argue. We actually have a guy who will only write leftist propaganda and right-wing-hate-poetry and get this - he insists on rhyming - very hard to believe that he actually makes it funny, especially because rhyming in poetry, you know?" And. He. Is. Laughing. Actually, laughing. Am I missing something? Oh dear God. But well, it'll still be quite different for the group, we're all tired of Mona's men - same old newly monied finance guys. This one will definitely make Siddarth and Adithya sit up. It's going to be a hard sell, this Chai Patty business, to be honest I am getting worried it may be a bit tacky. Maybe this whole poetry business will wrap it all up nicely with this whole angsty young man thing he has going on. That dimple is cute enough to make an effort. I smile at him again. "So you manage pilates and stuff with work?" he asks. "That's pretty cool! I'm kind of struggling to manage a regular time to go running with this new place." "Oh yes! Health is super important, you know? It's worth spending money on. So yeah, I make time for it. Work can get super hectic but it's all about balance!" "In the Force? Balance in the Force!" Okay what does that mean and why is he laughing? Alright, this needs to stop. And he looks a little stumped too. "Ummm so what do you do at work?" he asks. Finally. "Well we curate experiences for people. It's a very niche space. Say for example you have someone visiting you from abroad and say they are interested in the whole slum scene, or folk arts scene? You kind of just let us know and we curate these experiences for them in a way that lets them see the essence of it without really getting your hands dirty, you know? Because we take care of it for you? So yeah, tours, events, etc based on the experience you want! It's a lot of work but also fun! Of course, I'm not the one visiting slums and stuff, we've interns for all that. But it's quite fulfilling, knowing that you're making a difference. Because you know, sometimes the tourists actually make some donations on the tour as they go, it makes such a difference to these people's lives. It's in dollars and euros - life changing for the poor! And I'm helping make that happen, so very fulfilling" Well, he definitely looks impressed. He's gaping at me! "And what about you?" "Well, right now I'm a scrum master at this place, and most people around me kind of hate me for it because they feel like I'm not experienced enough to be one? So yeah, most days it's really tiring and your brain kind of turns to mush and there isn't any space left for any creativity! But you know, it's a stop gap thing. Just making money until a friend and I can do something on our own." Well that's an impressive entrepreneurial spirit, suck it Mona! "That's exciting! So what are you guys planning on starting?" "Well we want to open our own space for creative expression! And yeah it's going to be a struggle, money wise, but we really want people to be able to think and express themselves freely! Poetry slams, spoken word poetry, art exhibitions, anything that lets people be expressive! So we want to make just enough money to run the place, and don't really want a money-making machine! We feel like that will really take away the openness and creativity from a place and limit us on what we want to do." Oh. My. God. I should have stuck with a Tall. Half this yummy drink is now going to go down the drain. Your own business that doesn't make money? I cannot believe all that cuteness is wasted on this guy.

Should I wait a bit more and try and make polite conversation? What do I even talk to him about? He’s just sitting there fiddling with his shoelaces for God’s sake. Maybe I should ask him a little bit more about his work? But what kind of a deal is this scrub master anyway? What are they scrubbing and what for? Honestly though, I don’t care two hoots about all this techie stuff. It all goes above my head. And he doesn’t seem like he is the kind who gets out and has fun in general. So bottomline - I may have to listen to scrubbing-talk and poetry-talk. Fucking Brijesh! What has he gotten me into? My mouth hurts from smiling.

If I break this suckfest up now I should be able to fit in a mani-pedi. I totally deserve one after this crap show. And no friggin way is he going to come anywhere close to my gang. Fucking Brijesh.

Alright. Action time.

"Hey you know, I just realised I have a lot of pending work to get to. Do you mind if we cut this a bit short and catch up another time? Say hi to Brijesh from me when you see him!" Oh and I can't wait to get out of here and give him a piece of my mind!

But oh my god, look at him sighing. Poor thing. Rejection doesn't seem to sit well with him.

I am hitching my bag up and I can see him waving at me with such a sad longing smile. Fucking Brijesh. ________________________________________________________________

Suraj Fucking Brijesh. I get that I owe the guy and he's looking out for me but how did he think this was going to work? I'm still shocked. She's dressed in a, what do they call it? Crock top? Anyway, it's that midriff baring thing. She's waif thin and in heels and all I can think of is that she is going to get blown away with a strong gust of wind, her ramrod straight hair with blingy sunglasses on top with it. "I'll have a Caramelized Honey Latte. Iced. Tall. No, sorry, please make that Grande. Non fat milk. Please add whipped cream? Thank you!" Good Lord! Was that an order or a war plan? I am still imagining her flying in a gust of wind and smile, and thankfully she just smiles back. And now time for this agonizing charade. "Could I have a Caramel Macchiato please?" "Size sir?" "Small." "We don't have a small, sir. We have a Tall, Grande and Venti" "Wow. Okay. Is small...Tall? Oh wow. Please just give me your smallest size?" What the fuck is wrong with these people? Tall is tall. Grande means big and doesn't venti mean twenty? What the fuck is wrong with calling small small? "Sure sir. Any personalisations?" "No, God no, thank you very much." Yes, because I cannot bark marching orders like this one here. Dee. Sigh. I don't even know her full name and I'm scared to ask. "Your name, sir?" "Suraj" I'm glad she picked a common table. I don't want to be too close to those heels, they can impale someone. And it's got a nice view too of...okay. Kill me now. That's Avantika. My Avantika with her streaked red hair. On the terrace. Avantika who I really want to ask for a cuppa and haven't got up the guts to. Avantika who looks like she's having fun. God she looks beautiful when she laughs, her hair is glinting in the sun. And instead I get to stare at big blingy sunglasses. Sigh. "So" I say, "Blind dates, huh?" Lame, but a guy's gotta start somewhere. "Yes! So far so good though. So how do you know Brijesh again?" she asks. I ramble a little and I know I'm not making much sense but I can see Avantika hitting this other guy with a book on the head and that could have been me but no, here I am. Fucking Brijesh man. ".... because they are always tearing down some place or the other and a new pub comes up, it's like..perfect! I am never bored!" Fuck. I have no idea what she just said. Do I laugh? Not laugh? Shit man just ask her something! Anything! "Haha. Okay. Soooo what do you do for fun?" Oh man! Just look at Avantika. She's laughing again and her hair is dancing with the wind in the open terrace. I mean, it isn't even that she is so unconventionally beautiful. I met her at Chai Patty, Naveen brought her along and the woman writes hard hitting stuff. Such a cherubic angelic face and when she writes - wham! ".....oh and I do Pilates most weekdays, it's a lot of fun. And I'm trying this new place next week that is offering Hot Yoga - you know, not that I need it, but sounds interesting!" Focus man. Focus. "So what do you do for fun?" she’s asking.

So I tell her about Chaipatty because immediate recall, we just met yesterday. Naveen went on rambling as usual and we were getting the standard dirty looks from the rest of the people at him loudly thrashing certain politicians and Avantika sat there riling him up just for the heck of it, looking so innocent the whole time. I laugh despite myself and shit. Dee is looking at me so strangely! "Sorry, where is this again?" she’s asking.

So I tell her about Chaipatty. Did I not mention it to her already? Okay, what next? My brain is scrambling to ask her something. She said Pilates didn't she? "So you manage pilates and stuff with work? That's pretty cool! I'm kind of struggling to manage a regular time to go running with this new place." Stop rambling you idiot. "Oh yes! Health is super important, you know? It's worth spending money on. So yeah, I make time for it. Work can get super hectic but it's all about balance!" "In the Force? Balance in the Force!" I'm staring at my sneakers. Avantika drew on them and voila, my plain Converse high tops now had Luke with Yoda on his back and a light saber and the detail on the drawing - Mind.Blowing. I should just man up and ask her out already. She looks baffled. Brijesh is going to kill me. Alright. I can do this. "Ummm so what do you do at work?" I ask. "Well we curate experiences for people. It's a very niche space. Say for example you have someone visiting you from abroad and say they are interested in the whole slum scene, or folk arts scene? You kind of just let us know and we curate these experiences for them in a way that lets them see the essence of it without really getting your hands dirty, you know?”

This is getting worse. If I dash out of here, would she even notice? She seems so smug and happy. I wish I was the Flash. Sigh.

“.... It's in dollars and euros - life changing for the poor! And I'm helping make that happen, so very fulfilling" Is she serious? Is she for real? I look at her again. Straight hair like it came out of a doll factory, not even the strongest gust of wind was going to get one strand out of line, and with sunglasses perched on top. That crock top thing with some glittery stuff on it. And look man, I'm a nice guy so I'm not judging anything or lack of, waist up, yeah? And really long heels that can cause you some serious pain if you get on her wrong side. And she looks so proud of herself. Maybe I should introduce her to Savi so they can talk about her experience working with The Missionaries of Charity. You know. I like to watch the world burn as much as the next man. "And what about you?" So I tell her I’m a scrum master, no mean feat, considering my age. And yeah that so-called fancy degree helped get me there. But I realise that to her, I cannot explain how soul sucking it is to tell a bunch of people in their late thirties how to do their job and just how much they really resent me for it. And how shoed in I really am in those damned claustrophobic cubicles. And that the only nice part of my day is when Avantika sends me her writing and I get to just stare at her name on my screen for a bit. But I do tell her it is stop gap until Naveen can suck it up and we can get going on our own. "That's exciting! So what are you guys planning on starting?" Despite myself, I tell her exactly what Naveen and I want to do! I launch myself and zealously explain our philosophy and what we hope to achieve. I'm rambling on and Avantika is in my direct line of vision and I can almost hear her throaty laugh. I just want to walk out of here and talk to her. I’m staring at her and for a second I feel like I have electricity coursing through my body. She’s caught my eye and she’s smiling at me. And here I am, sitting with Dee. Dee what? I don’t know. And Dee can’t be her full first name can it? And what do I ask her next? This is utterly pointless! Fucking Brijesh! "Hey you know, I just realised I have a lot of pending work to get to. Do you mind if we cut this a bit short and catch up another time? Say hi to Brijesh from me when you see him!" And before I can register her words she's picking up a giant glittery bag I can fit my dog in and is waltzing out clicking her heels and I am sure I looked like a gaping idiot the whole time. Did that just happen? I cannot believe my luck and I don't even have time to worry about Brijesh and how dead he is because Avantika is walking up to me with her hair bouncing and a big beaming smile on her face. "Hey man! Fancy dates with fancy girls huh?" "Well that wasn't exactly a date! Hey guess what?" and I show her my shoes. "You wore it dude! Do you like it?" Is she for real? "Avantika. I don't just like it, I absolutely love it!" Oh there’s that laugh! It’s now or never. Come on man. Suck it up and do it. Just look at her. "Hey, listen. Would you like to maybe, you know, go out with me sometime?" I cannot decipher her expression. Great man, Suraj. Two massive disasters within the hour. And you blew your chance with this amazing girl in one, fell swoop. "You know....." Sigh. Yeah. I am doomed. "I don't just spend seven hours drawing on a pair of sneakers for just anybody. Took you long enough, yeah?" and she settles into the chair next to mine.

Weirdo

“Weirdo”

They thought he hadn’t heard it, but he did, he always did. The thinly veiled comments had stopped and it was now full-fledged vehemence that he heard and what he saw was uncontained gleeful faces saying it.

He walked on. He had always walked on.

He sat at his desk and plugged in his earplugs to the dusty CPU and fired up VK. He knew the rest of the people in his bay all shared music through it, listened to the same songs, breaking out in peals of laughter at the same time and from his peripheral vision he could see heads bobbing out of the symmetrical cubicles, all at the same time, with the same gay looks of mirth on all their faces, looking at each other and glowing with the joy of their shared camaraderie. All of theirs except his, from his corner cubicle, from where he had showed one of them how to use VK. Of course they promptly used it to make him feel even more excluded. But he didn’t really mind.

When he had sat with the rest of the kids at movie time every week, oldest among the lot, he was as curious as the rest of them, childlike, always waiting to see what came next.

When he was told he would be tutoring with the nice lady who was going to carve out time and money because he had “potential”, and he nodded, he wanted to see what came next.

When he was told there weren’t enough funds for him to go to college, because the rest of the kids at the home needed to go to school, he said okay, waiting to see what was next. He helped clean, sew, mop, cook at the home in return for continuing to live there even though he was past the age and had to move on. The kids liked his unobtrusive presence and let him pick the movies, but only after he had checked through all of their homework.

When the nice lady’s daughter came by a year later and said the nice lady was no more, with tears in her eyes, and left him with an envelope full of money, he looked up at the teary eyed woman and before he could react she was gone. My mother saw potential in you, she had said, she had great hopes that you would make it in engineering, she said.

At college, he sat through one class after the other, always waiting to hear what was next. In the company of his long silences, he absorbed every word, always waiting to see what was next. When the men in suits took over the entire college for a day and walked around looking important, and he was asked to interview, he found himself wondering what was next.

He heard whispers from the teachers about the sadness, the potential, and the luck that was bestowed upon this orphan boy. He heard about diversity in multinational corporations. He heard how his life would change.

And it did.

He began to notice things he hadn't before. He noticed that mismatched socks were gross. That worn out Converse sneakers that were drawn on with doodles were disgusting. That tiny hole in his shirt he hadn’t noticed made him a hobo. The lack of a girlfriend meant he was gay. Not liking pizza made him a loser . That the word sick didn’t mean someone was ill. Slay didn’t mean there was violence involved. That calling somebody a bitch with a smile meant they were friends. That his inability to find every little thing awesome, amazing, mind blowing meant he didn’t get it.

He felt bewildered. He was unsure now if he wanted to see what came next.

He didn’t agree, he didn’t understand. He did not think he was the child of tragedy he was made out to be. He didn’t know how to be dramatic at every new song and baby goat and every new internet sensation. He didn’t feel like he was a hobo, or a prude, or gay. 

He knew what was amazing and it was not a cat video.

And now, as he sat looking at the screen with lines and lines of code, he heard it again. In between all the laughter, a head nod and a pointed finger in his direction, with a smile that tried to look friendly but the lips saying,

“Fucking weirdo”.

They never knew that sometimes songs end and you can hear these hateful words through the ear buds.

He pulled open his drafts on email and sent in his resignation letter.

This time, he would know what was coming next.

A Letter To My Brother - Why I am a Feminist and Why I Read Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

I am not the most articulate person. I lack a brain to mouth filter and most times it takes me a while to realise that the flurry of thoughts in my brain and what has spewed out of my mouth in a hurry to explain those thoughts before I lose them, means that I have not said what I meant to say, and you have not understood what was in my brain.

Add to that fact that I am a Feminist. (Yes, I am. I don't burn bras, at least not yet. I do not think men should be burned at the stake. I do not think women are better than men - I do not think anybody is better than anyone else.)

Add to that the fact that we do not live under the same roof any more.

Add to that a huge generation gap that makes it exponentially tougher because it is the age of the internet.

What you get is my complete inability to help you understand why I am a Feminist, and why I need to be one.

And therefore, I hope that I can articulate it better as I write.

You do not understand my need for feminism because you live in a house where the need for it has been non existent. You learned to cook, same as me because it was a life skill, and not because of a gender role (and I will admit your Dosas turn out far better than mine, just this once). You were expected to learn to clean, sweep, clear up after a meal, same as me because it was a life skill, and not because they were tasks assigned by gender. You grew up in a home where your mother went to work, same as your father, and your father knew how to cook, same as your mother. 

You still are in a home where Amma stays up worrying whether it is you, or your sisters, who are out late at night. She does not worry more, or less for you and us, she worries the same.

But I got out of that house, willingly, and for reasons I then believed in. And once I was out of that environment, what was a small voice at the back of my brain, always shut down, always drowned out in the noises of work, and friends, and fun, and worries, finally made it to the forefront and demanded my attention. It was not a demand I conceded to easily, but it got to me in the end.

I paid attention to the voices around me that were condescendingly saying "she may not come back to work, she is getting married". I paid attention to the people saying I got lucky (the man I married was never lucky to have married me). I paid attention to the subtle things that I missed before because I lived in a home that did not allow me to think that way - you did not do something, or did not get out of something, simply because you are a girl.

Oh, the things I heard! Here is one person in particular, every single day a new gem : 
"She cannot go to X-City! She is a girl!" 
"Oh my God the women here drink more than the men!" 
"She went to X-Country with her friends and without her husband" 
The very same person wanted a wife that was employed, and can cook, and was fair and beautiful, and would be his version of a good wife, without ever questioning his skills, his looks, always implying he qualified simply because he is a man. I am glad the person in question is still single. Thank God for small mercies.

As the voices got louder, I began reading more. And I began reading Adichie. She made me think - put the book aside after a few pages and actually think about was she had written, before I could pick the book up again. She may have been talking about race, about colour, about things nobody wants to talk about or admit they even think about, but it was a resounding - "yes, yes, that is what it is" in my head. It was fantastic! Here was somebody asking me questions I was scared to ask myself, and nudging me and prodding me to think, think, think.

You need to understand that the minute you identify yourself as a Feminist you are casting yourself into a mould that is already lodged deep and etched vividly in people's minds. You are a violent, loud, irrationally angry person with possible lesbian tendencies - it is unfair on straight and lesbian women to assume that a lesbian is automatically a feminist - who is out to get men and does not appreciate the benefits of being a woman and is unnecessarily creating a hue and cry over nothing.

I finally got to a point where I admitted there is a problem. And I thought it was worth being  a Feminist despite that ugly mould in people's minds about what being a Feminist means. As much as it took me a while to get there and acknowledge it and get over the fear of that judgement, I do identify myself as a Feminist. I am a lot of other things, but I am also a Feminist.

And so I was vocal. I did not scream (you have to trust me on this one), I did not shout, but only politely asked a question, or gave my opinion. 
"Did you ask the girl in question if she can travel alone?"
"But I do not have to move because my husband wants to?"
"Why don't you learn to cook so you can help your future wife?"
"Why don't you consider moving instead of your fiancee?"
"I have been wanting to go on a solo trip - yes that means without my husband".

Here is what I was tagged - Aggressive. 

And here is something to think about - when you are older and can make the above statements in a relevant conversation, make them. There is a good chance that you will be tagged - Progressive.


I will not pretend to believe that I can change people, I do not want to. But I want to be able to do what Adichie did - make people think. I do not have the ability, nor do I want to get people to understand, but I would love the ability to help people think about what they are saying and why. I am trying to make my peace with the fact that most people will not think, will not change, will always laugh at Feminists and Feminism, and that is okay.


I will not pretend that I am right, that I know everything, that all feminists are always right. That would be pretentious and stupid. I am still reading, I am still learning, and I admit I could be wrong about a lot of things. But here are some things I am not wrong about because they have all been deeply personal experiences (and also because I will never let go of the chance to write something in bullet points). How the world is so different for you and I, who grew up in the same home, who have had the same upbringing, but the world is a different place to me than it is for you because you are a boy and I am a girl.

- You do not have to think about where you are wearing shorts to, if it's safe, what your safest mode of transport is when you wear shorts. I do. You wear shorts in the summer like you wear jackets in the winter. I don't.

- You do not worry about how anything clothing above the knee can be seen as an invitation to flirt. I do.

- You do not hear catcalls when you walk alone on the beach. I do.

- You do not hear "hey" a few times followed by "Too much attitude to talk? Bitch". I do.

- Whenever it is that you get married, if you do, you will never be penalised for not overtly displaying that fact by wearing a chain around your neck and rings on your toes. I am. You will not be judged and told you are trying to "appear single to attract attention". I am.

- When you take solo trips, nobody will ever ask you how your girlfriend or wife "allowed that" and not tell you how lucky you are. I am asked, and told those things.

- When you get promoted or move up in your career you will never be told you did that "despite being a man". But I am told that I did well despite being a "married woman".

- Your major life decisions like deciding to get married, will not make you worry about  how it affects your promotion and how you are perceived at the workplace. Mine did.

- Your boss will never ask you over and over "are you pregnant?" out of a deep worry that you may not be able to travel. Mine did.

I can go on, but I will stop.

You do not see the need for feminism because you have never experienced these things, and you never will. You may not even fully comprehend it because these are things that happen to someone else. I do not expect you to wake up one day, suddenly aware of what these things feel like, or change yourself and the world around you. But acknowledging that these things do happen, everyday, many times in the same day, is a big first step.

I do not want to change you, I want you to Think.