I was brought up on a diet of all good things that contributed to the smooth running of society. Compromise. Sacrifice. Love. Faith. God. Rules. Marriage. Monogamy. Sanctity. Reputation. What will people say. Everything that a normal, middle class Indian female should ingest and digest.
I have ingested, digested and how. But those that I digested earlier, poisons me now. The others I simply cannot digest.
Isn’t there a limit to how society can fuck one up? Those attempting to get out of the fucked up mess are further drawn into it and badgered to conformity. Unfortunately, so long as establishing rules and boundaries remains the only way to ensure even a semblance of civility, badgering and torturing will also remain.
In a world that is run by Oog the caveman’s faithful descendants, what are women but prized possessions and symbols of Oog’s virility. Cattle. Women. Oil. Guns. Nuclear toys. Servile women pampered like pooches that are given manicures and salon treatments. They also wear visible symbols of ownership on them. Red on the forehead - proud display that she is a desirable woman who has been taken and fucked and since already fucked by one Oog not to be fucked by any other. Miniature handcuffs that masquerade as rings. Rings on fingers and toes and the nose. But the icing on the cake is the Leash that is worn around the neck. Just as faithful, domesticated pets sport collars around their necks – ranging from simple leather belts to diamond encrusted ones for the uber lucky – we women flaunt the symbols of our servitude. And what’s most horrifying is the sincere belief in its glory, purity and power.
Women I know worship the leash by anointing it with turmeric and vermillion. They never take it off their necks. Even educated (virtuous) women wear it proudly and get visibly nervous at the thought of not wearing it even for a day. It reminds them of their warm home, caring husband, family, children, purpose of existence and love. All it reminds me is of a dog. And I am not.
I have ingested, digested and how. But those that I digested earlier, poisons me now. The others I simply cannot digest.
Isn’t there a limit to how society can fuck one up? Those attempting to get out of the fucked up mess are further drawn into it and badgered to conformity. Unfortunately, so long as establishing rules and boundaries remains the only way to ensure even a semblance of civility, badgering and torturing will also remain.
In a world that is run by Oog the caveman’s faithful descendants, what are women but prized possessions and symbols of Oog’s virility. Cattle. Women. Oil. Guns. Nuclear toys. Servile women pampered like pooches that are given manicures and salon treatments. They also wear visible symbols of ownership on them. Red on the forehead - proud display that she is a desirable woman who has been taken and fucked and since already fucked by one Oog not to be fucked by any other. Miniature handcuffs that masquerade as rings. Rings on fingers and toes and the nose. But the icing on the cake is the Leash that is worn around the neck. Just as faithful, domesticated pets sport collars around their necks – ranging from simple leather belts to diamond encrusted ones for the uber lucky – we women flaunt the symbols of our servitude. And what’s most horrifying is the sincere belief in its glory, purity and power.
Women I know worship the leash by anointing it with turmeric and vermillion. They never take it off their necks. Even educated (virtuous) women wear it proudly and get visibly nervous at the thought of not wearing it even for a day. It reminds them of their warm home, caring husband, family, children, purpose of existence and love. All it reminds me is of a dog. And I am not.
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