Friday, April 26, 2013

Here's looking at you, America.

Minutes after the Boston bombings, Facebook exploded with prayers, outrage, profanities and shock. The victims weren’t just random Americans. They were innocent people who had lost their lives on a day just as innocent as them. A day of celebration and joy.  

But then something else happened. Resentment surfaced. Not towards the terrorists but towards the media and hundreds of Indians who had shown their sympathy for good ole USA. “What about Yemen and Afghanistan?” “What about the hundreds of children that have died in Pakistan?”  “3 die in Boston…300 die in Iraq by the hands of the Americans! Why don’t we keep them in our prayers?”  These statements made me realize just how desensitized we have become. We believe that death is a natural part of life in these parts. 

It’s not just the Boston bombings. It’s the school shootings in small towns, a brutal murder by a nanny in New York, a horrific shooting in a movie theatre.  We (urban India) all get sucked in and it hurts us far deeper than a story about a 21 year old Indian solider who will never kiss his unborn child. So what is this bond we feel with a country many of us have probably never even travelled to? Well, this is what I believe. The truth is we have grown up with America. It has weaved itself into our very existence from the time we were fat, toothless infants.

Disney made “happily ever afters” possible.  Spiderman and Batman taught us how to kick butt. MC Hammer told us that we can’t touch this and we still tried. Michael Jackson made every Bunty, Babli and Mithu want to moonwalk while Madonna made little girls ask what a Virgin was. Elvis gave Bollywood stars a makeover that included a gigantic head of puff. Hollywood made us imitate the American twang and dye our hair blonde. Barbie showed us perfect boobs. Playboy gave boys their first orgasm. Archie taught us about high school and to “say not to drugs.” Steve Jobs made geeks cool. The list goes on, and on. No matter how uncultured some of us like to call Americans, we have always been drawn to their culture.

I am not confusing political views with popular culture, but I am just pointing out the (bitter?), truth. If we constantly surround our lives with all things American how can we not help but feel a deeper connection to them? Why are we suddenly called biased when all our lives we have been just that. So whether you shake your head from left to right in agreement or disagreement, it's true y'all, Bharaat Mata has always had an unhealthy obsession with Ms. Liberty.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

You're beautiful. On facebook.

 It’s funny (peculiar funny) how we women often seek the approval of other women to feel good about ourselves. I mean of course we want the attention of the man but as long as he sees a tight ass and a hint of cleavage chances are he won’t check out our neon pants or comment on how the mascara makes our eyes pop. If he likes what he sees then you’re looking hot. He won’t tear you into shreds, examine the shreds with a magnifying glass and then sew you back together. That’s a woman’s job. But things are different on Facebook Land. Because on Facebook land every girl is beautiful. Every girl looks like a princess, is STUNNING, has lost weight, is soo frikking hot, is a complete doll, never looks her age. Even if she is a three eyed troll. If we’re being bitchy, no one would ever know. We just dip it in all kinds of sweet and sprinkle it with colourful compliments. Why? Is it because we’d like the compliment returned when we post instagramed versions of ourselves? Or is because we find it easier to be nice when it’s not face to face but picture to picture? Or are the repercussions of being bitchy more severe on a public platform as opposed to real life? I haven’t quite figured it out.
Boys on the other hand, get off on being complete D-Bags to each other. The best part is that it’s taken with a pinch of salt. Especially on Facebook Land. So while we girls are busy telling each other how hot we are, boys are busy telling each other that they look like dicks or look like they’ve been sucking on one, their sweaters are gay, are constipated fucks, need to get laid, braz!  That’s the difference between boys and girls or men and women. They’re honest with each other and sometimes brutally so. There are no underlying meanings or not so subtle hints. Boy land on or off Facebook is pretty much a 100% real.
But no matter how hard I try, I don’t think I can adopt the man way even if I am itching to tell a friend that she stinks so bad I can taste her stink. But I just cannot. I will not. So when I see her next, I’ll tell her she smells of roses and leave a “you’re stunning” comment on her latest profile picture.