Old Boy (!)

Today as I was watching the usual evening news, one commercial got my attention, particularly because it was somewhat irritating.

The commercial was about "Ritz", the biscuit (or cookie as it's called over here) brand promoting a hitherto new kind of toasted chips (healthier, as against fried chips). The 30 second commercial was about a man introducing himself (and I couldn't recognize him, my fault... actually), with a pack of Ritz toasted chips,.... by a pool, and then offering that pack to two blonde (babes, naturally) females who made orgasmic expressions on eating those chips

The final execution in which the oldie was lechering and flirting (and offering chips not to forget) with two young females completely put me off.

Which puts me back to questioning myself: what's wrong if an old man flirts with young females? If there's nothing wrong in a young man doing so, and if I am, and have been, convinced and vocal about the rights of the importance of consenting adults in matters of love, sex, adultery and homosexuality, then it annoyingly beats me to realize that I don't particularly find the idea of oldies romancing youngies somewhat appetizing.

And, as I said, it annoys me, let alone oldies and supporters of oldies who might be reading this entry.

I don't know...probably it's because I've been socialized to believe that old men and women should do different stuff and be of different persona than young men and women;

probably it's because popular stories (or myths) of decreasing sexual libido of old people do their works: they aren't supposed to be like that...so anything contrary is annoying;

or the mismatch between an aesthetically pleasing thing (youth) as against eroding aesthetics and abating energy....somehow doesn't seem right to my conservative mind.

Truly, an old man lech-ing at a female seems doubly disgusting than a young man doing the same.

I'm aware of this bias but I wish I knew the reason and I wish if I could get this over......apart from wishing I didn't have this discriminating bias.

Silence...

Silence! Silence. Silence... Silence?

A punctuation mark creates the shape in which it is delivered and perceived.

Yet, seldom we understand it; or understand why it's there; or know what it means; and when we know what it does mean, we know every other thing...of the sender of silence.

Even when we know the content of silence, we don't know whether it should be met with understanding and more silence in reciprocation or a deliberation to break it. There is no presupposed trend, no protocol of reciprocating perfectly to silence......even when there is a contextual guidance.

Who said silence is golden? Is it ever inert??

Especially between two well-known....very well-known persons?

Here Comes the Sun...

The first thought when she was checking the sharpness of the knife against her upturned wrist was....how would the police know which number to call when they first find the body?
Should she make a note? Leave that on the table?

But it was very, very tough to decide on the first one to inform. Okay....she thought...that should be a North American phone number...let's cut down their cost.

And then, remotely and suddenly she thought how her roomie would react?

That moment changed the decision. She laughed. She thought, ah well....she would just shout and shout and have the fright of her life! What a lesson to teach!! And all these days she was thinking how to retort irritation and arrogance....what better way could this be.

Immediately after however....she understood it's nothing but self pity. And that she needs to get a new knife. She had an Indian blade but then ....that got lost in innumerable moving of houses she had to make over here.

And it could have made the whole things so dramatic. Narcissism warns, you see....against going overboard. Why try to connect with pieces of mind and persons left in Kolkata? By using a blade?? If life was so pathetic....would death have to match that pathetic pattern? nah...




Today, she had lots of groceries in her hand. She got on the bus.
The driver said "Thank You! You've got me supper!"

Unexpectedly to herself, she said "Thank You!!" And chuckled.

When getting off....the driver said again "Would you do me a favour? Could you keep my groceries in your fridge for this week?"

Why are people nice? She thought? She said, "Yes, next time! That's a raincheque!"

When the "why-s"? of her life came running to her again....she told them...I don't know. She would never know. As she would never know why certain things are nice, but are seldom asked as why they are.

Like we don't ask why the sun comes out....we just notice.

Good Morning, by the way!

F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

My last haircut was 4 months back. Since then, my hair has grown. I like long hair for myself, and like other sane females, also feel I should trim it periodically. There is a very good salon within 15 minutes of walk....and there's no reason that I shouldn't walk there.

But,......like avoiding being social by attending other social gatherings I thought I should avoid another wo/mankind-inhabited place. The world is a friendly place, wanting to become friends with you through asking friendly questions with friendly smiles and expecting friendly temperament in return. Now....now.....I wasn't and am not detesting F.R.I.E.N.D.S. I love the show. I love my friends. I do....even though I might behave the otherwise and not say it.

But I'm terrorized of friendly questions and friendly advice, coming from.....all sorts of people you least expect to be friends with; for example,

a) Hairstylers;
b) Bartenders;
c) Remotely known professors encountered in occasions of picking up free food from uninteresting seminars;
d) Smiling and busy Dada-s (of Dadu's age) encountered in Pujo-s, and such other occasions of Bengali chestbeatings.
e) Random guests of guest of your roomie;
f) Indian salesgirls working in grocery stores;
g) Taxi drivers driving you to airport;
h) Movers helping you to move you to yet another house;

From different background and found in vastly different situations and places, these people pose one common threat to me: being friendly.

Before you assume how mean I am, let me tell you how and why I derive my feelings of fear. terror. avoidance.

Questions start generally in this order.

1) Hi! How is it going?

Pretty good! How's it for you?

2) I'm good! So you're doing *general assumption* (like being an undergrad, or being single and looking or being married with your husband tending and caring for you, or being very happy without any reason)

*Response* (Trying desperately to close all deliberations with a one liner; which doesn't work, as you'll see)

3) Why?

*Mention reason, as succinctly possible in a civil and formal relationship*

4) But....I know this.....and you should do that.

I will.

Then,

5) That is pretty strange. Why don't you have kids?

*a#@& % !!* Ummm......*feebly* because I don't want to....?? I'm not really into a situation.

6) No....I don't think you realize this.....blah blah blah.....and when I was your age..../when I will be your age....blah blah blah.....

Uh...yeah....probably.....yeah.....okay.....hmmm........

And then, when I'm finally with myself again, I crave for some friendly talk. Some friendly interaction. You know.....those.... like real.