The Monologue of a sissy

Disclaimer: Completely imaginary and original work of expression.

I wiped my tears and continued to walk as fast as I could. My legs hurt - not because I was walking fast but because the football that had hit me, had hit me hard. I don't know whether I was limping for I don't remember. All I remember is my attempts to hide the fact that I was crying. The boys laughed and sneered on the football ground as they told me what a wimp I was.

Months later, my brother said he was utterly disgusted to see me watching a daily soap on television. He thought it was really really sissy of me!! A few days later, I remembered that he was also among the group of boys who had purposefully hit me with the football some months ago.

People seemed to have a problem with the way I walked, the way I used my hands while speaking.. in fact with the way I spoke!

When I entered a classroom, there would be muffled giggles. When this happened over and over again for months together, my confidence had shattered to pieces. I could never enter a room full of people without feeling embarrassed.

The physical training classes were a nightmare for me as I could hardly complete half a lap when everyone else was close to finishing the second. The physical training instructor joined the gang of boys that laughed at me...

Each time I moved in public, I could hear people laughing - some for real, many a fiction of my mind. I started staying indoors, didn't move around with people, stayed in my room for days together.

So deep was the feeling of inferiority about myself that I stopped looking at myself in the mirror. I was scared to acknowledge my own traits - my hand movements, my smile, my gait.

**


Today I stand in front of the same mirror rehearsing my speech for the film awards function tonight. I look into my eyes, hypnotized by my own charisma.

Today, the boys who hit me with their football tell their kids that I was their childhood friend.

Today, my brother asks me for the entry passes to the movie premiere of my directorial venture.

Today, I am 'manly' enough to tell the world... Yes, I am a 'sissy'!

Khandan ki izzat and sentiments

On the lines of 'fast food', I have 'fast blogposts'. These blogposts come to me as small sparks of thoughts - it takes me less time to type them and you to read them! So, keep reading my blog on the go...

These days, sentiments of racial/religious groups are more fragile than what is traditionally the benchmark of fragility in the Bollywood language - 'Khandaan ki izzat'.

In 99% Bollywood movies, (the 1% comprises of Mahesh Bhatt movies where extra-marital relationships are as normal as 'doodh mein paani ki milaawat') 'Khaandan ki izzat' is the most fragile thing. Your daughter marries your driver's son and you 'wash hands off' your khandan ki izzat! (A VERY cheap translation of 'khaandan ki izzat se haath dho baithoge'. Used here for the humorous effect only). In fact, the khandan ki izzat is like a soap which every family ends up washing their hands off by the time the movie reaches the intermission portions.

The sentiments of racial/religious groups have now surpassed this gold standard of fragility. Be it the title of a SRK film creating ripples in the 'hair-stylist' community because a derogatory word 'Barber' was used for them ... or be it the wrath that the makers of 'Kaminey' faced because they used a proverb 'Apna Haath Jagannath'. (This proverb has been used for decades. In fact, it does not really represent any particular deity in Orissa - it refers to 'Jagannath' just as God, only to rhyme it with 'Haath'.)

Have the filmmakers really become insensitive - or has the tolerance level of these racial/religious groups really gone down? Till when are we going to subject creativity to this kind of moral policing?