Your anatomy makes you shameless/jobless.

I won't go into details.

But a few weeks back, things changed at college.

It wasn't a sexist place, not by a long shot. It wasn't a BAD place for a girl. It still isn't. Maybe I'm saying this because the guy:girl ratio in my class is 1:50 and Science pressure weeds out the jerks so most of the guys I know are nice anyway, I don't know.

But then the rules changed a little bit.

No shorts, no sleeveless tops.
Girls and boys, use separate staircases. Even when it makes absolutely no sense to do so.
Different gates.

And the English teacher said this, almost verbatim;
"Today I noticed, some of the boys are sitting in the girls rows. And some girls are sitting in the boys row. Now, I have no problem with this, you can sit however you want, but you might get into trouble. From tomorrow, sit in your own rows."

The weird bit is, we don't have separate rows.

And this got me thinking, what message are you trying to give us? It's the 21st century, it's not a big deal if girls and boys sit together. Talk. Wear shorts and parade the incredibly taboo skin of knee-to-ankle. I'm lucky that 2 of my best, BEST friends are boys. For all my feminism (actually, for all YOUR perceived notion of what feminism is), I don't hate men. I don't believe that every male is out to rape every woman, or comment on her ass and assets. I don't believe that at all. But our system - patriarchy, for want of a better word - does.

Friend's friend - Hi, I'm Sahil [ie male]
Me - Hi, Manasi.
*we shake hands*
*outside the Supervisor's office*
*I get disapproving looks from some lady I don't know*
Friend - Hey, we have to go for Maths. See you later?
Sahil - Yeah.
*friend and I walk up the boys' staircase because we're badasses like that*
Me - Did you see the looks that woman was giving me? JEEEZ!
Friend - Yeah,
Me - Imagine if I was wearing shorts. She'd think I was so shameless.
Friend - What's going to happen if we wear shorts yaaa? Are boys so jobless that they're just going to rape us here, in front of everyone?!
Me - Nono, they'll take us to the boys staircase.

Do you see this, people? Do you UNDERSTAND? Making a rule that girls can't wear short clothes, means you think boys absolutely cannot keep it in their pants. Making a rule that we can't go on the same staircases or through the same gates, means you don't think we can be in close proximity without doing "naughty naughty things". Making a rule that we can't mix in the classrooms...I don't even know.  Most of my guy friends are really smart, and if I wasn't allowed to talk to them about intellectual stuff, I'd be a lot less intellectual. We'd all be.

This isn't a post against college, this isn't a post against guys, or the 21st century, or my teacher, or the lady who was shooting me looks. This is against the notion that all boys are horndogs, that girls are in charge of preventing violence against themselves. Let's focus on that for a minute - girls are in charge of preventing violence against themselves. For those of you who don't actually understand this, it's like saying it's India's fault the Raj happened, and the East India's Company was just natural, boys will be boys, companies will be companies, and India shouldn't have worn shorts.

Masculinity isn't muscles and domination and Axe body spray. Femininity isn't sunshine and daisies and butterflies. We're all PEOPLE. Sure, some guys may have completely screwed up notions and I don't want to be on the same staircase as them, but others are really terrific, and maybe if we stopped pressuring them into this terrible idea of masculinity, we'd actually have intelligent conversation. Maybe we'd actually act like we're the result of 4 billion years of evolution.

Can we all just please try to be like this guy please?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u8Zj6pPSlJI

Why do you need a number?

Why do you need a number to judge me?
Is that all I am?
Classrooms tell us, we are not war prisoners,
but classrooms define us with numbers.
Numbers tell you how much I "know".
Knowledge tells us a person is not one item,
not a statistic.
Then why does one number make you better than me?

I am not my 53 in Chem or 94 in English.
You are not a 2400 on your SAT.
We are more, we are bigger,
but if you need a number so desperately,
I define you as infinity.

Inspiration has no measure,
nor hard work.
Not that fantastic feeling of pleasure that hits you
when you finally understand why
the slope of the curve is the limit of h tends to zero
f of bracket x plus h bracket plus f of x
over h.

I don't slog completing notes on all-nighters,
I don't even study that much.
I understand, I understand more than you think I do.
But if my identification number is less than what someone expects
I'm a failure.

Why do you need a number to see my talents?
Can't you just let me prove them to you?

Why is physics more important than poetry?
Because it has more numbers?
Because it's mechanical, rarely a talent?
Why is there no credit for the Rimbauds, the Ginsbergs,
The ones who challenge the status quo,
The Poes who make dark days darker,
The Shakespearian sonnets of woe?
Why is conformity rewarded,
one zero zero,

... and the freethinkers left hanging?

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness
starving hysterical well-dressed in a school uniform -
miracleworker marksgetters or periodic blunders -
high numbers or insane wonders.

Twitter, sexism, and jeans. Mostly just sexism.

This happened, yesterday.

Female Relative 1 : Amhi tar saadi ghaalunach collegela jaycho. Hya aajchya muli, tyanche kay te - "jeans" - ani sagla...kahi vahiyadpana kartaat.
Female Relative 2 : Ho, ga!
FR1 : Anhi kaay, ekda tar eka muli varti koni acid phekla...
FR2 : Mag kay!
Me : Jeans shi kaay sambandha?
FR1 : Jeans nahi, ga, pan aajchi pora... tila sambhalayla pahije hota.
Me : Mhanje kaay, muli chi chook hoti?
FR 2 : Nahi ga, pan neet kapde ghaalayche na, aasa nasta jhaala...
Me : Mhanje kaay? Teene kahi ghaatla asta, tya mulane acid taklach asta. Ma kay saglikade helmet ghaalun jaaycha? Ani mulavar kahi dosh nahi?
FR1 : Dosh cha prashnach nahi ga, tyaachich chook, pan tila sambhalayla pahije hota...

At this point I got sick of arguing. So I just politely walked off (ironically, into the kitchen. That's another matter, though).
For my people who don't know Marathi, here's how it went.

Female Relative 1 : When we were young, we used to wear saris to college. Girls of today, their "jeans" and things...they think they can do anything.
Female Relative 2 : Totally! (Or the old lady's equivalent of Totally!)
FR1 : What's more, they throw acid on the girls...
FR2 : *literally this means Then,What? but it actually says, What Else Did She Expect?*
Me : How is this related to her jeans?
FR1 : It's not about jeans, ga, but she should have been more careful.
Me : So what, it was her fault?
FR2 : No, ga, but if she had worn proper clothes, this wouldn't have happened...
Me : What? Whatever the girl would have worn, the guy would have attacked her with acid. So do we go around everywhere with helmets? And isn't the boy to blame here?
FR1 : It's not about the blame, of course it's his fault, but she should have been more careful...

I would have translated into Hindi, German, French, Dothraki and Elvish, but I think you've undesrstood most of it.

Seriously, are we in the 21st century? Are we in India, one of a handful of places where goddesses are worshipped? Are people (a surprising majority) really saying that it's the girl's fault?

I'm not an expert, I'm a 16 year old kid with a laptop. And a brain and dreams of changing the world etc. Stupid and naive, that way. But even I can see this is waaaaay messed up.

After getting bored of Farmville requests and selfies, I decided to use social media for better causes. The first was finding this brilliant page on Facebook, Feminist India (links at the bottom). It's not out-and-out man-hate (which is what most people think feminism is. It's really not). It's simple logic and reason and pissedoffness at our messed up system. And it's making me do better things with my life, now that I've actually started realizing how messed up things are.

I moved on to Twitter. This is weird because of all the people I know on real life, there are maybe 5 on Twitter. But I snooped around and found @EverydaySexism. Which is one of the most shocking things ever (links at the bottom). And also, Lindy West, Lauren Rankin, Jaime Kilstein, Alison Kilkenny, Jeff Fecke. I did not actually think there could ever be popular people who cared about political and social issues (sexism and LGBT rights are the forefront). Upworthy, anyone? (link at the bottom.)

It's gotten to the point where I skip bedtime reading to read blogposts. And think about writing fanmail to these people because they're awesome people who are changing, if not the world, at least my life.

And where social issues are concerned, even one person can make an incredible difference.

*tried to end with a powerful inspirational line to get more people to become activists but probably fails*

http://www.facebook.com/FeministIndia?fref=ts
https://twitter.com/EverydaySexism
http://www.upworthy.com/
And more links but I'm too lazy to post them.
Seriously, though. Try to make the world nicer. It's not that hard.

A little rebellion, now and then, is a good thing.

This post is being written without the author having a clear idea of what she's writing about.
This beginning bit is verging on free-writing.
Because it's conformist to know what to write, before writing it.
Ugh, so mainstream.

This is one of the rare times in my life when I can say, a book changed me. It changed how I look at things. The book in question is Little Brother, by Cory Doctorow. (The others, if you're interested, include 1984 by George Orwell, Beauty Queens by Libba Bray and Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood.)

This book is about a bunch of teens rebelling because the Department of Homeland Security is being a big-time meanie. Curbing on basic freedoms, kidnapping kids, bugging tech and tapping phones,  et all. This bunch of teens does not trust anyone over 25 - and rightly so, because the ones above 25 are meanies too. I've only finished half of it, but it's blown my mind.

Because the common people end up with the power.
It's not only the government, not only the DHS.
Not only the parents.
The kids.
(The smart kids, not the Jersey-Shore type.)
The main kid controls everything - a citywide rebellion - from his Xbox.
Which is awesome.
And not only awesome, it's doable.

Yes, yes, he gets into trouble, the DHS cracks down on them, etc etc.
That's not the point.
Because this book verges on YA I'm reasonably sure the kids will be the victors at the end, but that's not the point either.
The point is the journey.
Not the beginning, and not the end.

The way the kids did this shit.

I'll talk about the main kid for a while. Marcus Yellow. Ordinary name. Ordinary grades. Super-surveilled school, but I'm sure it's an ordinary school (as in, other schools would've been just as strict). Ordinary neighbourhood. But extraordinary brain.

He has a bunch of tech, but it's not far removed from the arsenal of tech I have access to, as a regular teen. He's 17, I'm 16, he doesn't have thaaaat much more knowledge than me.
(Okay that was a joke. He was super-techy, I'm only moderately talented in that department. My biggest coding achievement was writing a program about Lord Voldemort. But I am net-savvy enough to get all the information that he has, should I choose to do so.)

Ordinary kid with ordinary resources, but he changed everything. At least for those few days.

Which got me thinking, why can't I do the same? I have a blog, I have moderate writing ability, I'm reasonably rebellious. I could change the world if I wanted.

You could change the world if you wanted.

WE could change the world if we wanted.

What is this world that I want to change, and why do I want to change it? Why do I want you to change it with me?

The simple answer is, I'm a 16 year old hormonal female specimen, so I have dust-bunnies for brains and big fancy ideas without the least idea of how to carry it out.

This would be accurate enough.

But the deeper answer....look around! There's pain and suffering and conspiracy and conformity and religion that has been twisted and ego which is permeating into politics which is permeating into world relations which is permeating into war which is permeating into our hearts and mindsets and that is the cause of the first freaking ego.

Original sin wasn't eating the apple, original sin was believing that the apple was ours.

I want to change this, in the world.

As the book says , people under 25 (ie the youth) are "young enough and stupid enough not to know that you can't possibly win" so we'll be the only ones trying. We'll be the only ones winning.

Sure, I'm not going out and hugging trees. I'm not getting beaten up by the police. I'm not getting quotes and posters and t-shirts printed up. I'm a little girl, ignoring her studies, sitting behind a laptop screen, wondering what's for lunch.

But I'm thinking, and I'm writing, and I'm trying to spread the word.
I'm trying.
I think that's enough.

Dense Inside Passions / Words, Threads and Burns

Because writing a semi-poem inspired by two lines from a song called Marooned by an obscure band called The Gathering when you're supposed to be studying is pretty awesome.

With stars in her eyes,
She looked up at the world - 
Could not see through the lies,
She was just a young girl.

Loved everyone she knew
And everyone "loved" her too, except
The ones who were truly 
Wise - didn't want her to accept

The world, or what she disliked of it -
She knew she would like to fit in - 
But how?
With everyone around,
her astounding dreams, smiles and frowns
were run down to the ground.

With tears in her eyes,
With fears in her eyes,
She listened, she heard,
She spoke not a word.
It didn't matter, there was no one to hear her.
It didn't matter, there was no one to fear her.

Fear her? Of course they couldn't fear her,
First she had to free herself,
So they could see her
Then she had to leave her world behind - 
Not a word, no smile should endear her - 
Her world had to repeal her!
That's the only way she could
Reveal herself - 
But she didn't want to 
Deal with this mess
The heated aggression
The beaten distress
And she hated herself.

Reeling with anger
And dealing with stress
And feeling the cares of the world,
She settled for less.
But seeing is believing - 
And a seething revelation
Of her heart that was healing,
Shown to the world by her pen, by her friends,
Scoured her dense inside passions with a lens
And that was the end!

Shaken up, awaken,
Semi-disgraced, her heart was racing.

With a smile on her face, 
She analyzed the interlacing web of words, threads and burns
That she left with her paper and her pen,
Tapered to an end that would pierce her soul,
And everyone's around her.

Didn't that astound her?
She couldn't even see everyone who'd surround her
But her words found them, and bound them.

Obtaining permission?
She thought with derision
Of her thoughts in the past.
A vision of perfection,
A painted reflection.
Now she was tainted, with the ink from her pen,
And she would never need permission, never again!
Her vision of perfection - 
a little disrespectful,
a little irreverent - 
Not painted anymore
And if it was tainted with truth,
That's because she liked it that way.

With fire in her eyes,
And her soul burning inside,
And with no desire to
Stop her world turning
Upside-down, she wrote.
She wrote with a passion - 
Not for the fashion of the times,
Nor for the passing glances of people who
Would now fear her if they could see her,
But for herself.
For the fire inside that didn't have any way to get out
But her pen.
Her friend.
It was also her worst enemy - 
But in the end, it didn't matter,
She had what she wanted -
She was heard! It was daunting
And she told no lies
And for the first time,
She had a smile in her eyes,

I'm no Barbie, you're no Ken - I'm no rebel, you're no Zen.

Excuse the bad poetry. Now that we've got that out of the way, let's get started.

I used to have an identity. A set identity, fixed in stone. I used to have an identity I wanted for future-me, set in stone. I used to have a plan. I used to want to be perfect. I used to be perfect.

And then I thought, f*ck it.
(I shouldn't be using this language. But I am, just to drive home a point.)

This way is so much better.

I used to work for marks. I used to do EVERYTHING for the sake of school. I lost my sleep over so much bullshit Authority told me to do. Most of it wasn't even important. But I did it, because I was expected to. Because I wanted to be perfect.

Yes, my 13-year-old brain totally comprehended the meaning  of perfect. A perfect girl was one who listened to her parents+teachers, did everything that was told to her, did some bedtime reading (classics, never anything that could spark a fire) and slept by 10 pm. She looked like Barbie, she never got involved with boys, never was a rumour spread, never did anyone say a bad word about her. I used to want this so much. SO much.

But never in this definition of perfect did the word "fun" come. Or "individuality".

9th happened, 10th happened. I still tried to work towards the definition of perfect-future-me, that I had in 8th. I didn't have enough time to focus on this - and that might have been the best thing that happened to me.

If you know me, you know my turbulent 10th. Long story short - they wanted me to become a techie/something along those lines, I wanted to become a writer/something along those lines, and eventually I won. Not without a lot of introspection, not without a lot of doubt.

Not without a lot of - how shall I put this delicately - imperfection.

She got 94 in the Boards! She got 100 in Computers! Her mom's an architect, her dad's a techie! She went to St Mary's, and quite a few people there thought she was smart - and St Mary's has the smartest people anyway! She'll do something great with her life. I know, she'll become an engineer! She'll do Science at FC or SMJC, get amazing marks, go to Harvard or Yale, snag a rich husband (this was the unsaid part, in India we don't talk much about husbands until the wedding day itself), have a couple of straight-A kids, and they'll be perfect too.

However.
She got 94 in the Boards! She got 100 in Computers! - So? I don't think that's any indication of smartness anyway.
Her mom's an architect, her dad's a techie! - That just made her want to rebel more.
She went to St Mary's, and quite a few people there thought she was smart - and St Mary's has the smartest people anyway! - This is a lie. They teach you nothing, except how to memorize stuff. And they don't even teach that. I love Mary's and all, but they placed way too much importance on textbooks. You know my opinions already.She'll do something great with her life. I know, she'll become an engineer! - No, fellow Indians. IITians are not the greatest people on Earth. She'll do Science at FC or SMJC, get amazing marks, go to Harvard or Yale, snag a rich husband, have a couple of straight-A kids, and they'll be perfect too. - None of this was said (except the Science bit), or even implied in sneaky undertones. But you KNOW it's what you wanted, don't lie. The marriage part - truth be told, I find most boys of my generation completely repulsive.

There goes my perfection.
The worst part is, I actually wanted a life-plan like this, all the way till I was 14.
Then I grew some brains.

I actually had a vision of 16-year-old me. She'd be the coolest person on the planet. Everyone would love her. She'd top all her exams. She'd have a close bunch of friends, and they'd all love each other till the end of time.

Bullshit. I'm 16 now, and most people probably think I'm a b!tch (just say it to my face, please). Junior College is just a season of Gossip Girl, where everyone goes behind everyone else's backs. Yes, I do have some friends I like better than others, but I wouldn't be very surprised if some of them stabbed me in the back.

The Julius Caesar reference^? Yeah, I totally nerd out over things like that. I spend my mornings cutting classes and reading. Shakespeare. I listen to bands like Eluveitie and Agalloch and Nightwish, which I doubt of a majority of 16 year girls. I religiously research people like Tina Fey, Helen Mirren, Lena Headey, Margaret Atwood, Anneke van Giersbergen (a Dutch singer) - almost to the point of stalking, because THESE are the people I want to be like. They're all perfect - a different kind of perfect. A kind of perfect that society never let me realize until now.

A kind of perfect where you make your own life, however wonky and convoluted it it. A kind of perfect where you trash the marks-college-husband-kids-fullstop trajectory, because you just don't like it. I mean yes, most/ all of them had good marks and went to pretty good colleges, and all but Helen Mirren have kids - but you know what I mean. Probably not. Thing is, they didn't let that trajectory define them. I don't know any of them personally, but I doubt they said "Oh, hey, I think I'll go to college just because it's what ladies do". I do want to get into a good college - to make connections, because a writer can't really survive without them. I want to get into a good college to become smarter, not to get more marks. I want to be like them, in the sense that I totally become a boss in whatever field I choose - but I still retain my individuality, not leftover celluloid.

I didn't really explain that previous paragraph well. I'm sorry. Actually, I'm not. I'm not apologetic, because I know exposition isn't my strong point - see, there's something I'm not good at, and I won't try to hide it. I'm not perfect. 16-year-olds of today, don't kid yourself. You're not perfect either. Don't try to be.

You don't need your crush to like you.
You don't need your friends to envy your boobs.
You don't need a ton of makeup everyday.
You don't need the approval of your teachers (mostly).
You don't need to study for marks.
You need to study for knowledge.
You don't need to be perfect.
You need to be you.

This entire blogpost? It didn't have a meaning, it didn't have a moral, it didn't even have a point. I hope it had wisdom, but I'm not too sure. Lots of people will hate me after reading this - that's cool, all cool. I needed to get some things off my chest, after I read an article about girls and sex education on the HuffPost Women site. If you could let the younger generation know that they don't need to be perfect either - awesome, you have my thanks. If not, everyone has their own life, it's up to them how to use it.

As the Right Honourable Sir Clown Tristan Barker (a youtuber) said.
I'm not here to fit into your world, I'm here to build my own.

Get up, Stand up, Grow Up.

So. Here's the lowdown.
A 23 year old girl and her boyfriend/male friend (the media is ambiguous) had gone out to see a movie, in Delhi, in the evening.
After the movie, they wanted to get a bus back.
Because obviously, in this country, the public transport system should be good, the police protection in public areas must be good.
FALSE.
There were some other men on the bus.
They started making lewd comments towards her. Being horrible people. You know the sort.
This boyfriend/male friend tried to stand up for her. He was assaulted.
The girl was gang-raped, beaten up.
Both were left injured, naked, on the side of the road, in the small hours of the morning.
And India finally woke up.

Credits - Apoorva Sonawane

This was the one incident which tipped the scales over.
The masses knew about the rape before, definitely.
The masses worried about rape before, definitely.
But the masses had not done anything.
Now, they're doing something.

There were rallies everywhere. Pune, Mumbai, Kolkata, Delhi, and rallies are planned in Chennai and Hyderabad too. It's something. It's just a bunch of people walking, but it's something.

Credits - Apoorva Sonawane

The Delhi one was bullshit, though.
The police opened fire.
Tear-gas, and a lathi charge.
[For the ignorant, a lathi is a big stick. A lathi charge is when the all-knowing authorities beat up people with those sticks. Usually, there's no good reason.]

And these were students. People not much older than me. Which is scary.
Dear police, we're trying to save your daughters too. Kthxbye.
[rare un-grammar nazi self, up there^. Because I don't want to associate myself with police now, even for the good cause of grammar.]

Back to the point.
I was in the Pune protest today. It was fantastic. Delhi, we're with you.

Photo credits - Apoorva Sonawane

So let me talk about the Pune protest.
I met two trolls. I wish I had slapped them when I had the chance.

The first one, was the type I like to call Silent Troll. They annoy you just by their presence.
Everyone was wearing black shirts, for the girl who had to go through so much. It's solidarity, it's togetherness.
This guy was wearing a black shirt, I'l give him that much credit.
The shirt had the words - God made woman. His biggest mistake.

Seriously, dude? Wearing that shirt to a rape protest rally? I would've loved to have given him a piece of my mind, but the event didn't need any negative publicity. So I just walked on.

One of the slogans was, "All we want is death for rape!". Even though I personally don't agree with the death sentence, I went along with it. I was one the few people running up and down, shouting "All we want is---?" and everyone else would go bejeesus bonkers yelling out "DEATH FOR RAPE!".

Except for this guy. When I was in his part of the line, he called me aside. I assumed, to ask me what the slogan was, exactly. You couldn't hear these things clearly.
No, this guy called me aside to give a sneer, a creepy look, and ask me "So you want despo rape?"
[despo = desperate. Because really, running up and down in that march makes me seem SO desperate.]

I did not mishear him. That is what he said. With a smirk. To my face.
If this had been an online conversation, that phrase would've had winks and hearts, and his DP would've been a creepy guy in sunglasses who thinks he's the shizz. But I digress.
Again, I did not say anything to him, because events like these can't afford negative publicity. So I walked off. Angry.

Yeah, we do have such extremes of stupid in the world. No wonder stuff is so screwed up.

Photo credits - Apoorva Sonawane

Then again, there's the good stuff.

LOTS of guys showed up. Way more than I expected. Saying that half the crowd was male would not be an exaggeration. Kudos, guys!
It doesn't matter if they were trolls, at least they showed up. Yay.

It was really well organized. I don't know who was in charge of it, but they did a damn fine job. It started on time (=not all that late) and we didn't end up going where we were supposed to, but at least nobody got in trouble. No attacks, nobody got arrested.
The fact that not getting attacked and arrested means it was a success is pretty bad, but at least it was successful. One step for girl/boy, one giant leap for stronger rape laws.

Photo credits - Apoorva Sonawane

We're the future. We're the youth. We're the ones who are going to make a difference.
It's time to get up. Wake up. Grow up. Stand up for what's right.
YOU are part of tomorrow. YOU are the future.
So YOU better do something about crap like this.
No waiting around for the government to do something, not waiting for legislations or laws to change.
Start from the bottom level.
Prevention is better than cure.
Don't wait for something like this to happen before trying to make a difference.
Because really, tomorrow is only what we make it.

Photo credits - Apoorva Sonawane

So get moving.