I wanted to talk to someone about it. I wanted to get it off my chest. I took my phone out of my pocket and went through the entire friend’s list, twice, but couldn't find a single one to talk to. It was entirely my burden, my cross, I realized, and it couldn't be shared with anyone. It could only be multiplied, in my consciousness. Such a thing is shame.
Living a life like I do, we men sometimes tend to forget that there exists a creature in world called woman. And in the world of men, woman is only an abstract idea who is used to flaunt our manhood, often, I admit, in a perverse manner. Yes, I do talk to girls of my age but that is different. They are friends and they don't mind, if they are not positively amused by, our occasional indiscipline in speech. But women are different, especially when they are around in flesh and blood.
Today I was talking with my friend on office messenger, about someone else. And just then my team lead pinged me. And I wrote the following, by mistake, in her window –
“I hate that fat hag. I would have paraded naked in house if I could muster enough shamelessness, in order to scare her away.”
Even now I can't help but shudder as I write these lines. I felt a hard blow in my head when I realized my blunder. Tortured with confusion and frenzy, I ran to my friend to tell him about the disaster. Till now it was only a blunder. The worse was still to follow. Soon the deeper layers hidden in this episode presented themselves to me as I sat together in interview with my smart crime.
I was not scared of any consequence. In fact, I wrote a mail seeking apology with full awareness of the fact that it was a written confession, which could be produced in my appraisal or before that as well, depending on her sensitivity. But it was not about her, but me alone, and perhaps about the smile which she always flashed when she saw me. There are times when the person who could be most ruthless with you is none other than you yourself. There are times when you walk miles and seek punishment. And impulsive as I am, I have done such things and felt such moments earlier in my life as well. Knowing her nature, I was sure she would forgive me and forget this issue after a day or two. And I know that I have to pretend the same forgetfulness to let the awkwardness go. Oh how desperately do we sometimes need forgiving people around us! However, I do forgive but hardly forget things. And I take a few things very seriously. It is a morbid compulsion with me.
Anyways, practically I was safe. But what about the higher judge?
Guilty and shameful in my heart, I recalled my school days when I was considered an epitome of decency. And I was so, though it is hard for me to believe that now, and harder to write here. I looked at him who was I, but found him too away. I remembered the incident when a girl (who was his classmate, a close friend, and one of the most desirable girls of his batch) tried to get cozy with him in her bedroom and then playfully ‘warned’ him that she'd shout if he did anything naughty with her. And he said calmly with a proud smile, ‘Do it if you want. But no one will believe you.’ And the girl knew that he was right. Idealistic and upright, he used to say, ‘In moments of crisis, a man should not speak a word in his defense. His character alone should be able enough to defend him.’
A few years later, I remember, he used to shut his door and sit close to the TV to watch ‘tip-tip barsa paani’ keeping lowest possible volume so as not to wake his parents sleeping at the other floor. Poor guy! I remember how badly his whole being used to shake, in apprehension as well as in lusty excitement, raising each other to maddening heights. What would he do to hide that excitement if someone came? No, it couldn’t be hidden, nor could be rationalized. Like a thief, he used to hear the footsteps that were never there.
Still I cannot recall those nights without feeling something tingling beneath my skin. Was it wrong to wake late in nights in a breathless wait to see ‘something’ in those ‘18’ movies shown then in star TV? Perhaps not. But then imagine, God it’s scary, to get caught by your mother while doing that what you know is not wrong if not seen by your mother. And what about sex? Legal. Is that also wrong? Oh they behave unreasonably, you might say. Well, it’s a bit complicated. Perhaps we are at the wrong track; it’s not an issue of right and wrong. It’s not wrong but just embarrassing.
So everything that is embarrassing is not wrong. What if I had typed the same stuff in the right window? Everything would have been right, isn’t? So it was not immoral to write that about a woman, but only a blunder to write that in a woman’s window. All my guilt and shame were misplaced!
But somehow I am not convinced.
Living a life like I do, we men sometimes tend to forget that there exists a creature in world called woman. And in the world of men, woman is only an abstract idea who is used to flaunt our manhood, often, I admit, in a perverse manner. Yes, I do talk to girls of my age but that is different. They are friends and they don't mind, if they are not positively amused by, our occasional indiscipline in speech. But women are different, especially when they are around in flesh and blood.
Today I was talking with my friend on office messenger, about someone else. And just then my team lead pinged me. And I wrote the following, by mistake, in her window –
“I hate that fat hag. I would have paraded naked in house if I could muster enough shamelessness, in order to scare her away.”
Even now I can't help but shudder as I write these lines. I felt a hard blow in my head when I realized my blunder. Tortured with confusion and frenzy, I ran to my friend to tell him about the disaster. Till now it was only a blunder. The worse was still to follow. Soon the deeper layers hidden in this episode presented themselves to me as I sat together in interview with my smart crime.
I was not scared of any consequence. In fact, I wrote a mail seeking apology with full awareness of the fact that it was a written confession, which could be produced in my appraisal or before that as well, depending on her sensitivity. But it was not about her, but me alone, and perhaps about the smile which she always flashed when she saw me. There are times when the person who could be most ruthless with you is none other than you yourself. There are times when you walk miles and seek punishment. And impulsive as I am, I have done such things and felt such moments earlier in my life as well. Knowing her nature, I was sure she would forgive me and forget this issue after a day or two. And I know that I have to pretend the same forgetfulness to let the awkwardness go. Oh how desperately do we sometimes need forgiving people around us! However, I do forgive but hardly forget things. And I take a few things very seriously. It is a morbid compulsion with me.
Anyways, practically I was safe. But what about the higher judge?
Guilty and shameful in my heart, I recalled my school days when I was considered an epitome of decency. And I was so, though it is hard for me to believe that now, and harder to write here. I looked at him who was I, but found him too away. I remembered the incident when a girl (who was his classmate, a close friend, and one of the most desirable girls of his batch) tried to get cozy with him in her bedroom and then playfully ‘warned’ him that she'd shout if he did anything naughty with her. And he said calmly with a proud smile, ‘Do it if you want. But no one will believe you.’ And the girl knew that he was right. Idealistic and upright, he used to say, ‘In moments of crisis, a man should not speak a word in his defense. His character alone should be able enough to defend him.’
A few years later, I remember, he used to shut his door and sit close to the TV to watch ‘tip-tip barsa paani’ keeping lowest possible volume so as not to wake his parents sleeping at the other floor. Poor guy! I remember how badly his whole being used to shake, in apprehension as well as in lusty excitement, raising each other to maddening heights. What would he do to hide that excitement if someone came? No, it couldn’t be hidden, nor could be rationalized. Like a thief, he used to hear the footsteps that were never there.
Still I cannot recall those nights without feeling something tingling beneath my skin. Was it wrong to wake late in nights in a breathless wait to see ‘something’ in those ‘18’ movies shown then in star TV? Perhaps not. But then imagine, God it’s scary, to get caught by your mother while doing that what you know is not wrong if not seen by your mother. And what about sex? Legal. Is that also wrong? Oh they behave unreasonably, you might say. Well, it’s a bit complicated. Perhaps we are at the wrong track; it’s not an issue of right and wrong. It’s not wrong but just embarrassing.
So everything that is embarrassing is not wrong. What if I had typed the same stuff in the right window? Everything would have been right, isn’t? So it was not immoral to write that about a woman, but only a blunder to write that in a woman’s window. All my guilt and shame were misplaced!
But somehow I am not convinced.
4 comments:
Well your run in with your team leader was really hilarious if one wasn't involved in it. Then it wud b really tragic!
But what is it about women being an abstract idea? more used to hearing of women being objectified!
Meenakshi
Abstraction can be and is used to objectify a person or community, women or jews, when the person or community is reduced to a set of adjectives. This practice is essentially dehumanising in nature, for instance jews were publicized as a stinking and stingy race, with no consideration to any variety or speficity inside their community. So every jew was made to be a stinking and stingy fellow. I am saying this without necessarily subscribing to the generalization at first place.
Its said nothing is right or wrong , our thinking makes it so.
Whenever I do anything of this sort (being in my teens) ,I comfort myself with the aforementioned saying.
Nest
We all fall sick. Some of us use medicine soon enough, some wait for natural healing.
We are all blessed with the faculty that knows what is right and what is wrong, and it whispers to us when we go to sleep. Some can sleep ignoring it, some can not. With time, the whispering voice ceases to exist for the former, and for the latter, the noise retreats into the lap of silence. It's just a question of a few nights.
Post a Comment