here we were, 2 working women, feeling all important. Asking questions, being appreciated.
And then comes this lady and tells us how proud it makes her feel to see working women, doing so well.
The compliment just grazed us. One was keener on taking her 5-year old to the bathroom, the other was on the phone enquiring about her unwell 3-year old.
so what are we? working mothers in that order of priority.
or just mothers who happen to work?
Monday, May 14, 2007
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
good lies?
ok. today i took the easy way out. i didnt rationalise. when my daughter cried monster, i lost my patience, gave her a little ganesha idol she got as a gift from my sister, and told her now no monsters will come near her.
more or less what my mother did with me.
but in this case without that total belief. with doubt, with impatience... true me.
more or less what my mother did with me.
but in this case without that total belief. with doubt, with impatience... true me.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
flirtations
How important is flirting for the well-being of a woman? I
s it merely for the young, restless & cellulite-free?
No. In fact it is more important for the older, without-rest & what-have-you...
Flirtations. It sure can kick-start your day.
A few nostalgic exchanges with someone from the past.
A fleeting smile or eye-contact with a total stranger at the traffic signal or jam.
A teenager who ogles at the 'aunty' (big boobs are big boobs for the inexperienced, who cannot differentiate it from mere fat).
Even an unexpected call from partner of many years...
Flirtations... as important as a strong cup of filter coffee, a good review for your byline, a hug from a friend.
Flirtations... on certain days, when the mirror is exceptionally rude, is more important than all of the above put together!
s it merely for the young, restless & cellulite-free?
No. In fact it is more important for the older, without-rest & what-have-you...
Flirtations. It sure can kick-start your day.
A few nostalgic exchanges with someone from the past.
A fleeting smile or eye-contact with a total stranger at the traffic signal or jam.
A teenager who ogles at the 'aunty' (big boobs are big boobs for the inexperienced, who cannot differentiate it from mere fat).
Even an unexpected call from partner of many years...
Flirtations... as important as a strong cup of filter coffee, a good review for your byline, a hug from a friend.
Flirtations... on certain days, when the mirror is exceptionally rude, is more important than all of the above put together!
Thursday, January 25, 2007
racism bollocks!
Give us a break. racism will always exist. live with it.
If you are at the receiving end the best way to hit back is to ignore and succeed.
If you are dishing it out, and dont like it, then just stop being such a fucking asshole.
But ignore Big Brother. And Good's pilgrimage.
And for goodness sake, Shilpa Shetty is used to racism in her own country. So what's the big deal.
She is after all a dark (and absolutely beautiful) woman living in a country obsessed with fairness.
A country where south Indian accents are mocked by brethren up north, who cannot string a grammatically correct sentence together.
So what?
Get your free publicity, some money and get on with business!
If you are at the receiving end the best way to hit back is to ignore and succeed.
If you are dishing it out, and dont like it, then just stop being such a fucking asshole.
But ignore Big Brother. And Good's pilgrimage.
And for goodness sake, Shilpa Shetty is used to racism in her own country. So what's the big deal.
She is after all a dark (and absolutely beautiful) woman living in a country obsessed with fairness.
A country where south Indian accents are mocked by brethren up north, who cannot string a grammatically correct sentence together.
So what?
Get your free publicity, some money and get on with business!
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
ummm mum...!
First the disclaimer: I do not endorse her, her antics, her music or her products in anyway.
Still, this is in defence of her as a young mother. Give her a break!!
Britney Spears has always been under scrutiny, for the songs she sings, the man she marries, the clothes she wears and now for the mother she is. While everything else seems justified enough, the last mentioned is simply sad.
Ok, so she really goofed up driving with her child in the lap, and she didn’t know how to read the instructions on the car seat manual.
Let the parent who has never made an error in judgement cast the first stone.
How many of us have done things out of ignorance, have tripped – literally or otherwise – on our parenting skills… so what makes her different. Why should she be treated as the mother from hell.
From what we see, at least she seems to be spending time with her child, she seems enthusiastic about parenting. Especially since she can afford a hundred nannies to take care of her little one, and restrict her participation to good night kisses and photo ops.
None of us mothers is perfect – motherhood is a work in progress. We try our best, learn from our mistakes, we slip up and hope to be forgiven, we show care and love and are gratified by the kisses and hugs. We can take the tears and tantrums from our children, we can take the help and advice of others around us.
But to be judged, breaks us. To be judged as a bad mother or an inefficient mother is not easy to deal with – especially when one is trying.
Still, this is in defence of her as a young mother. Give her a break!!
Britney Spears has always been under scrutiny, for the songs she sings, the man she marries, the clothes she wears and now for the mother she is. While everything else seems justified enough, the last mentioned is simply sad.
Ok, so she really goofed up driving with her child in the lap, and she didn’t know how to read the instructions on the car seat manual.
Let the parent who has never made an error in judgement cast the first stone.
How many of us have done things out of ignorance, have tripped – literally or otherwise – on our parenting skills… so what makes her different. Why should she be treated as the mother from hell.
From what we see, at least she seems to be spending time with her child, she seems enthusiastic about parenting. Especially since she can afford a hundred nannies to take care of her little one, and restrict her participation to good night kisses and photo ops.
None of us mothers is perfect – motherhood is a work in progress. We try our best, learn from our mistakes, we slip up and hope to be forgiven, we show care and love and are gratified by the kisses and hugs. We can take the tears and tantrums from our children, we can take the help and advice of others around us.
But to be judged, breaks us. To be judged as a bad mother or an inefficient mother is not easy to deal with – especially when one is trying.
death
another fire.
More people die.
This place is literally being built on the blood, bones and flesh of expatriate labour.
The buildings are strengthened by the sweat and blood of those who lose their life so cheaply.
And their souls will haunt the place that promised prosperity and delivered death.
So cheap are their lives, no one is surprised by its loss. No one learns a lesson.
These deaths make more precious the lives of those around you. The ones to whom you grudge your time and attention. The ones to whom you owe your joys -- small and big.
More people die.
This place is literally being built on the blood, bones and flesh of expatriate labour.
The buildings are strengthened by the sweat and blood of those who lose their life so cheaply.
And their souls will haunt the place that promised prosperity and delivered death.
So cheap are their lives, no one is surprised by its loss. No one learns a lesson.
These deaths make more precious the lives of those around you. The ones to whom you grudge your time and attention. The ones to whom you owe your joys -- small and big.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Racism
Ok, yet another blog on racism.
Last Thursday I was at a fancy test-drive luncheon to do that my magazine was partnering.
So the who is who of Doha's rich housewives fraternity were present.
Sticking out three sore thumbs were three Indians. May I add, probably the three most qualified people in that crowd!
One is an architech and journalist, one the asst dean at a bigtime US unviersity and moi, the assoc editor of not 1 but 3 monthlies!
now the looks going around was -- what are you three doing here. of course, the housewives got over it quickly enough, but not the organisers. they were smarting.
so I tell myself, there you go again with your racism and persecution complex -- and before I could convince myself, the asst dean walks up to me and tells me 'this place is so racist'.
she, who has been living in the Americas since she was 4... hmm.
the fact is, it is not just the arabs and westerners who are racist. it is the indians, other asians everyone...
the indians think they are far too smart to hobnob with the banglas and nepalis, the nepalis think in each of them lives the reincarnation of the Buddha, the lankans think the filipinos are vague... and it goes on.
Last Thursday I was at a fancy test-drive luncheon to do that my magazine was partnering.
So the who is who of Doha's rich housewives fraternity were present.
Sticking out three sore thumbs were three Indians. May I add, probably the three most qualified people in that crowd!
One is an architech and journalist, one the asst dean at a bigtime US unviersity and moi, the assoc editor of not 1 but 3 monthlies!
now the looks going around was -- what are you three doing here. of course, the housewives got over it quickly enough, but not the organisers. they were smarting.
so I tell myself, there you go again with your racism and persecution complex -- and before I could convince myself, the asst dean walks up to me and tells me 'this place is so racist'.
she, who has been living in the Americas since she was 4... hmm.
the fact is, it is not just the arabs and westerners who are racist. it is the indians, other asians everyone...
the indians think they are far too smart to hobnob with the banglas and nepalis, the nepalis think in each of them lives the reincarnation of the Buddha, the lankans think the filipinos are vague... and it goes on.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Driving miss lazy
ok, finally I started it. Driving lessons from Jan 1. And believe it is the most annoying thing I have done in my life.
So much better to be driven around. But I push myself forward: two months, and my husband will lose his last vestiges of control over me. I am my boss.
No more driving Miss Lazy.
And I will be able to have more fun than before, go and come as I please.
Just wish this damn thing could be done with.
I am so nostalgic of Madras, where I went around in my 2-wheeler for 6 glorious years, without licence, thanks to the Press sticker.
But here in Qatar, the Press sticker would probably invite an extra penalty.
So here I am after a long hour of reversing, and with an aching neck to boot!!
42 hours to go!!!
So much better to be driven around. But I push myself forward: two months, and my husband will lose his last vestiges of control over me. I am my boss.
No more driving Miss Lazy.
And I will be able to have more fun than before, go and come as I please.
Just wish this damn thing could be done with.
I am so nostalgic of Madras, where I went around in my 2-wheeler for 6 glorious years, without licence, thanks to the Press sticker.
But here in Qatar, the Press sticker would probably invite an extra penalty.
So here I am after a long hour of reversing, and with an aching neck to boot!!
42 hours to go!!!
Saturday, January 07, 2006
Feel like a Star... Am I a Star?
She wants to talk the way I do; dress the way I do; smile the way I do; shout the way I do.
She wants a dab of my lipstick; my pottu (bindhi); my perfume; even my moisturiser.
She wants a jacket to match mine; a dupatta too; my shoes can't be newer than hers; hers shouldn't be different from mine. She even wants to play Scrabble, just like I do.
I can't sit with HIM or hold HIM; She wants to, too.
She tells me, though not in words, that I am worthy of imitation.
I am overwhelmed, because this is the first time someone feels that way; at least openly.
She tells me, watch what you do and watch what you say; because I am watching you, and will do just the same. She tells me I love you so, but I will grow up and do what all daughters do.
I will shun your ideas, go against your advice, I will eat what you don't want me to, wear what what you hate, read what you detest, and question every principle you hold dear.
In small measure I have already started to rebel, she says.
By talking louder than you like me to; by smiling at strangers -- something that bothers you so.
And in public, I stick with empathisers who condone all my misbehaviour because I am just all of four.
The minute we are alone, I smile an apology, because I know all my indiscipline will be forgiven, because you are my mum. Putty in my hand, she grins.
I can make you feel guilty with a frown, sad with a cry, confused with a smile, and happy with a laugh. You think you are in control, and then I start playing my tricks.
And I will get away with it, because you keep saying I am too small to do this and that, I am just all of four.
She wants a dab of my lipstick; my pottu (bindhi); my perfume; even my moisturiser.
She wants a jacket to match mine; a dupatta too; my shoes can't be newer than hers; hers shouldn't be different from mine. She even wants to play Scrabble, just like I do.
I can't sit with HIM or hold HIM; She wants to, too.
She tells me, though not in words, that I am worthy of imitation.
I am overwhelmed, because this is the first time someone feels that way; at least openly.
She tells me, watch what you do and watch what you say; because I am watching you, and will do just the same. She tells me I love you so, but I will grow up and do what all daughters do.
I will shun your ideas, go against your advice, I will eat what you don't want me to, wear what what you hate, read what you detest, and question every principle you hold dear.
In small measure I have already started to rebel, she says.
By talking louder than you like me to; by smiling at strangers -- something that bothers you so.
And in public, I stick with empathisers who condone all my misbehaviour because I am just all of four.
The minute we are alone, I smile an apology, because I know all my indiscipline will be forgiven, because you are my mum. Putty in my hand, she grins.
I can make you feel guilty with a frown, sad with a cry, confused with a smile, and happy with a laugh. You think you are in control, and then I start playing my tricks.
And I will get away with it, because you keep saying I am too small to do this and that, I am just all of four.
Friday, January 06, 2006
New Year pains ease...
...but still has not delivered.
Ok, so far so good. I like to believe that I am optimistic not greedy. But the line between avarice and hopes is rather blurry.
Like I hope for a happy and peaceful year. And hope that these two factors would be the result of or result in, success and prosperity.
See, it is almost like the line doesnt exist.
A week into the new year and my resolutions (that i claim never to make or make and never to take seriously) all ready begin crumbling. for one regular blogging hasn't happened yet.
Anyways, back to that blurry line I spoke about.
A lunch party with a group of friends/acquaintances. And then I hear some of them start off about how they have to earn every penny, and nothing comes to them easy. That they are not lucky, but are thankful that they are no unlucky, they add wistfully. Something my sisters say very often about ourselves. We have always had to put in a bit more effort, wait a wee bit longer, for things to click. but no complaints, things always clicked. never a free lunch though.
Now these women are oil mistresses (married to men working in global oil conglomerates or work in one). Their monthly income is about 3-5 times what most 'middle-class' families in Doha earn, they have longer vacations, more perks, etc etc. So where was the need to be wistful?
I guess each to his opinion.
And I come back to my LQ -- luck quotient. I am not joking. If there is a scratch and win, everyone is a winner contest, everyone of our 20 scratches will give us M&Ms.
If there is a gift for every contestant, my husband and I will end up with similiar papermate pens.
You get the idea??
So back to hoping 2006 is happy and peaceful and, and, and...
Ok, so far so good. I like to believe that I am optimistic not greedy. But the line between avarice and hopes is rather blurry.
Like I hope for a happy and peaceful year. And hope that these two factors would be the result of or result in, success and prosperity.
See, it is almost like the line doesnt exist.
A week into the new year and my resolutions (that i claim never to make or make and never to take seriously) all ready begin crumbling. for one regular blogging hasn't happened yet.
Anyways, back to that blurry line I spoke about.
A lunch party with a group of friends/acquaintances. And then I hear some of them start off about how they have to earn every penny, and nothing comes to them easy. That they are not lucky, but are thankful that they are no unlucky, they add wistfully. Something my sisters say very often about ourselves. We have always had to put in a bit more effort, wait a wee bit longer, for things to click. but no complaints, things always clicked. never a free lunch though.
Now these women are oil mistresses (married to men working in global oil conglomerates or work in one). Their monthly income is about 3-5 times what most 'middle-class' families in Doha earn, they have longer vacations, more perks, etc etc. So where was the need to be wistful?
I guess each to his opinion.
And I come back to my LQ -- luck quotient. I am not joking. If there is a scratch and win, everyone is a winner contest, everyone of our 20 scratches will give us M&Ms.
If there is a gift for every contestant, my husband and I will end up with similiar papermate pens.
You get the idea??
So back to hoping 2006 is happy and peaceful and, and, and...
Friday, December 23, 2005
rationalist, me!
people think i am a rationalist. so do i. and i guess i am. but still unrational fears creep into me time and again. i am a strong believer of the evil eye. i believe a person's envy (not jealousy, mind you) is far more dangerous than her action or words. why do i say her? because women probably will hold back their tongue and actions, and so channel all their envy into the evil eye. so they are a far more formidable opponent.
i believe that people's discontent can rub off on you. and i do seriously believe grouchy friends should either be converted or dropped. you can stick it out and be a friend for as long as it takes. but if the friendship is meant only for need, then chuck it.
and now, one more from the repertoire of the rationalists. i am psyching myself into believing even number years are not so great for me. i am fool. this i know. so often i have willed myself into making things better... so what is it with even numbered years? i guess, i have found far too much idle time in the last few days and have found little to keep me occupied, so i come with this mad calculations.
but a voice inside me whispers, are you sure you are just being stupid? that there is no grain of truth in it?
i am not sure, oh, no, i am not sure.
and rationalism or insanity? not sure about that either.
i believe that people's discontent can rub off on you. and i do seriously believe grouchy friends should either be converted or dropped. you can stick it out and be a friend for as long as it takes. but if the friendship is meant only for need, then chuck it.
and now, one more from the repertoire of the rationalists. i am psyching myself into believing even number years are not so great for me. i am fool. this i know. so often i have willed myself into making things better... so what is it with even numbered years? i guess, i have found far too much idle time in the last few days and have found little to keep me occupied, so i come with this mad calculations.
but a voice inside me whispers, are you sure you are just being stupid? that there is no grain of truth in it?
i am not sure, oh, no, i am not sure.
and rationalism or insanity? not sure about that either.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Bad apples keep turning up
This is what I have realised. Bad relationships always come back to haunt you. You can never really put it behind you and forget. You will learn to probably look at it objectively and will realise that it wasnt really as grave as it felt then, at that moment.
I have worked in three organisations for long stretches of time.
I had one bad work-relationship at the first job. However, there was no venom, just a clash of personalities. If I were to meet him today, I can be cordial with him.
But I havent been lucky at the two after that. At my second workplace there was this absolute bitch -- she had this whole load of personal baggage, and was convinced that no one liked her, and she assumed that was because of how great she was, and how people could not digest that.
Well first of all, most people were indifferent to her, and those who didnt like her, had a good reason to -- and it had nothing to do with her talents either!!!
And those who liked her, did as a favour to her family who were rather likeable.
She continues to haunt me.
And then the ex-boss in this place was a snake -- and his parents had wisely named him so too!!
To add to the woes, he neither had the skills that the bitch could boast off, or the pleasantness that most human beings show at some point in their life.
He haunts me too.
How you may ask? They haunt me because they are petty people. Not because they are evil. They are petty and can't digest another's happiness or success. The first guy -- he was ok. He was ambitious. And as long as he was getting his due, he didnt mind others doing well.
But these two were different. No amount of personal success satisfies them; happiness? They kill it for themselves.
They scare me. My worst nightmare is their ire, that I may have to interact with them again in the future, that destiny has inexplicable plans and their role in my life may not be completely finished. They scare me.
I have worked in three organisations for long stretches of time.
I had one bad work-relationship at the first job. However, there was no venom, just a clash of personalities. If I were to meet him today, I can be cordial with him.
But I havent been lucky at the two after that. At my second workplace there was this absolute bitch -- she had this whole load of personal baggage, and was convinced that no one liked her, and she assumed that was because of how great she was, and how people could not digest that.
Well first of all, most people were indifferent to her, and those who didnt like her, had a good reason to -- and it had nothing to do with her talents either!!!
And those who liked her, did as a favour to her family who were rather likeable.
She continues to haunt me.
And then the ex-boss in this place was a snake -- and his parents had wisely named him so too!!
To add to the woes, he neither had the skills that the bitch could boast off, or the pleasantness that most human beings show at some point in their life.
He haunts me too.
How you may ask? They haunt me because they are petty people. Not because they are evil. They are petty and can't digest another's happiness or success. The first guy -- he was ok. He was ambitious. And as long as he was getting his due, he didnt mind others doing well.
But these two were different. No amount of personal success satisfies them; happiness? They kill it for themselves.
They scare me. My worst nightmare is their ire, that I may have to interact with them again in the future, that destiny has inexplicable plans and their role in my life may not be completely finished. They scare me.
Saturday, December 17, 2005
little miss logic
ok, how do i answer her?
Me (31): Stop talking non-stop
Oviya (4): Then why do I have a mouth?
***
Me: No, I am not buying you any of those toys
Oviya: All mummies buy for their childrens (sic).
Me: No they don't
Oviya:Then why are they selling it?
***
Oviya: (pointing to a poster of sexy Arab singer Nancy Ajram) You don't want to be like her?
Me: No, I am happy the way I am
Oviya: You want to be fat?
Me: Yes, it is nice to be fat. And you like it when I hug you, because of all that fat.
Oviya: oh ok, it's nice to be fat
Spotting the next big lady, and loud enough for her to hear it --
Oviya: That aunty is also fat and nice is it?
***
Now you know why kids get hit by their parents!
Me (31): Stop talking non-stop
Oviya (4): Then why do I have a mouth?
***
Me: No, I am not buying you any of those toys
Oviya: All mummies buy for their childrens (sic).
Me: No they don't
Oviya:Then why are they selling it?
***
Oviya: (pointing to a poster of sexy Arab singer Nancy Ajram) You don't want to be like her?
Me: No, I am happy the way I am
Oviya: You want to be fat?
Me: Yes, it is nice to be fat. And you like it when I hug you, because of all that fat.
Oviya: oh ok, it's nice to be fat
Spotting the next big lady, and loud enough for her to hear it --
Oviya: That aunty is also fat and nice is it?
***
Now you know why kids get hit by their parents!
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Back from Beirut
this is my problem. i start off something without assessing if i had enough time for what i have committed to earlier. so overload. and that's the reason the blog has been ignored.
not that it matters really!
but while i was away, i was doing something far more interesting.
at Beirut.
ok -- first impression of Lebanon -- ASSHOLES!!
The immigration guys apparently are not used to too many Indian tourists. Sri Lankan maids yes. But Indian tourists -- no! And they seemed a tad insulted that one of us would actually dare to come to their country for leisure.
So i fight, tell them I was there on the Tourism Ministry's invitation to write about their bombed out country, and if they had a problem, I will go back.
With that first impression I entered the City. Well, since it couldnt have gotten worse, it got better.
met some officials and realised that Bureaucrats were Bureaucrats and they all went to the same Global school for Jerks and Megalos.
Despite them, Lebanon is a beautiful place to visit. And everyone -- I mean everyone -- is in a party mood 24x7.
Went to this Moulin Rouge-ish night club called Musichall. And one of the performers was this vibrant 84 year old woman, singing and swaying well past midnight. Some folks have real hep grandmas.
One note: if you are particular about how your smell, then get ready for a huge laundry bell. People smoke everywhere, all the time. so your clothes always have that lingering smell of second handing smoking. not too pleasant.
What is really freaky about Beirut is the bombed buildings, with bullet-holed walls, that still stand next to newer Hariri-built constructions. Some of these ruins are still occupied.
But one thing I should give these Lebanese, they have grit. They've been running and hiding from bullets and bombs, but nothing keeps them down.
They dont care if they have nothing to eat, and hold to stay in -- they all look ready to take on the Milan ramps.
Appearances to them is all that matters.
Here is an instance -- a Lebanese colleague here in Doha was complaining of severe stomach pain. she said she would go to the doc after salary day. but the next day she landed at work with one of those fancy manicure jobs, with gel nails and all. which cost her about $50.
She laughed an explanation: People dont know i have stomach pain, but they will know i have bad finger nails.
not that it matters really!
but while i was away, i was doing something far more interesting.
at Beirut.
ok -- first impression of Lebanon -- ASSHOLES!!
The immigration guys apparently are not used to too many Indian tourists. Sri Lankan maids yes. But Indian tourists -- no! And they seemed a tad insulted that one of us would actually dare to come to their country for leisure.
So i fight, tell them I was there on the Tourism Ministry's invitation to write about their bombed out country, and if they had a problem, I will go back.
With that first impression I entered the City. Well, since it couldnt have gotten worse, it got better.
met some officials and realised that Bureaucrats were Bureaucrats and they all went to the same Global school for Jerks and Megalos.
Despite them, Lebanon is a beautiful place to visit. And everyone -- I mean everyone -- is in a party mood 24x7.
Went to this Moulin Rouge-ish night club called Musichall. And one of the performers was this vibrant 84 year old woman, singing and swaying well past midnight. Some folks have real hep grandmas.
One note: if you are particular about how your smell, then get ready for a huge laundry bell. People smoke everywhere, all the time. so your clothes always have that lingering smell of second handing smoking. not too pleasant.
What is really freaky about Beirut is the bombed buildings, with bullet-holed walls, that still stand next to newer Hariri-built constructions. Some of these ruins are still occupied.
But one thing I should give these Lebanese, they have grit. They've been running and hiding from bullets and bombs, but nothing keeps them down.
They dont care if they have nothing to eat, and hold to stay in -- they all look ready to take on the Milan ramps.
Appearances to them is all that matters.
Here is an instance -- a Lebanese colleague here in Doha was complaining of severe stomach pain. she said she would go to the doc after salary day. but the next day she landed at work with one of those fancy manicure jobs, with gel nails and all. which cost her about $50.
She laughed an explanation: People dont know i have stomach pain, but they will know i have bad finger nails.
Thursday, December 01, 2005
privacy
ok, since ive quite a few people know about this blog, where do i go with my darkest secrets?
another blog...
another blog...
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Parents are Cruel
Children are cruel. But that's a different post.
This is about parents. All the screwed up children of the world, blame your parents. Too much expectations, no expectations, too pushy, too laidback, ALWAYS there, NEVER there. Parents really fuck up their kids.
This is about parents. All the screwed up children of the world, blame your parents. Too much expectations, no expectations, too pushy, too laidback, ALWAYS there, NEVER there. Parents really fuck up their kids.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Heil PMS
Not the monthlies -- but Pre Marital Sex.
Those of you from India/TN will be aware of the Khusboo-premarital sex comment, and ensuing scandal!!
I am rather sure that everyone of those protestors have either had premarital sex or had desperately wanted to.
Now this is my take -- I am all for it. I think it's great. I think even those who are going in for arranged marriage should do it with their spouse-to-be.
Simple reason -- sex is great. And with someone you are committed too, it becomes even greater. But marriage brings with it certain inconveniences -- that's the truth. And once kids get into the picture -- forget it!! No naked frolicking in the middle of the day, experiments, etc etc.
There is something absolutely seductive about sneaky sex... and you can have that only before marriage.
I am not advocating open free sex with every person you meet. No sir. I am far too conservative for that. Just advocating fun with someone you love, without worrying about whether or not he/she will love you 10years from now.
And yes, it pays to be safe. No two ways about that.
And Khushboo, Suhasini, whoever... keep talking ladies. You speak more sense than those hypocritical, moralistic morons who probably have 10 mistresses in anycase. And the protesting women for sure are those married to such men.
Those of you from India/TN will be aware of the Khusboo-premarital sex comment, and ensuing scandal!!
I am rather sure that everyone of those protestors have either had premarital sex or had desperately wanted to.
Now this is my take -- I am all for it. I think it's great. I think even those who are going in for arranged marriage should do it with their spouse-to-be.
Simple reason -- sex is great. And with someone you are committed too, it becomes even greater. But marriage brings with it certain inconveniences -- that's the truth. And once kids get into the picture -- forget it!! No naked frolicking in the middle of the day, experiments, etc etc.
There is something absolutely seductive about sneaky sex... and you can have that only before marriage.
I am not advocating open free sex with every person you meet. No sir. I am far too conservative for that. Just advocating fun with someone you love, without worrying about whether or not he/she will love you 10years from now.
And yes, it pays to be safe. No two ways about that.
And Khushboo, Suhasini, whoever... keep talking ladies. You speak more sense than those hypocritical, moralistic morons who probably have 10 mistresses in anycase. And the protesting women for sure are those married to such men.
RIGHT
"I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it" -- Voltaire
Friday, November 18, 2005
Insecurity
Just seconds ago I wrote that I loved my job. And I do. Really do.
But I am terribly insecure about it. I am not insecure about my work, but my job.
The year has been unbelievably good, but I worry how long that will last.
Should I believe in the evil eye, on envy, my own lack of luck...
Or should I JUST BELIEVE in myself and get on with it. Thinking is not always such a good thing.
But I am terribly insecure about it. I am not insecure about my work, but my job.
The year has been unbelievably good, but I worry how long that will last.
Should I believe in the evil eye, on envy, my own lack of luck...
Or should I JUST BELIEVE in myself and get on with it. Thinking is not always such a good thing.
love my job
Missed Scorpions. But I could have met them if I wanted to.
Met Bryan Adams yesterday.
Maradona today.
Maybe Pele morrow and Nadia Comaneci the day after.
I love my job. I love it.
Met Bryan Adams yesterday.
Maradona today.
Maybe Pele morrow and Nadia Comaneci the day after.
I love my job. I love it.
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