Man vs Beast

My grandmother called the human race a deadly virus that would destroy the earth. She said we were the only species that destroyed the very things that sustain us. She also said man could be worse than a rabid beast. A beast is acting true to his character, if he attacks, he does so only to eat or protect. Man has no such requirement….She was right.

She was a woman who had lived a lot of life.

This morning I listened to the debate on the radio with unutterable disbelief and horror. Is the making or showing of this documentary even a topic? Why? Why isn’t the fact of what that man said being discussed?

His words reiterate what all of us in our hearts know – she was so brutally assaulted because she fought. He means she would still have been raped, but somewhere in that complete oblivion of right or wrong he does not even begin to think that raping her was equally as bad as brutalising her. What does that say for us all – for his parents, for his village, for his society, which is also ours? He has peers, friends, kin that all actually think exactly as he does. He is not alone – that is what we should be addressing.

There are statements like ‘ what happens if you put a toffee on the road? Obviously the dogs get it’. This from a man who is learned, or so we would assume, he is a lawyer and advocate talking about rape!

This isn’t only an Indian context, it happens the world over. Did anyone see the photograph of Dominique Strauss – Kahn in the Hindu today? He is striding forth in complete power and assurance to attend his trial for rape, pimping and abusing sex workers. He certainly does not think he has done a thing wrong.

Why are we wondering who gave permission for the documentary instead of debating what we can do to condition the minds of men to perhaps emulate the wild beasts that we so happily malign. They do not hurt and abuse for entertainment and pleasure.

Advertisements

It’s raining men!

IMG_4251Nice one’s too. I decided a time ago that the male energy does not fit in my space as a constant, it was a lovely, comfortable feeling; I would not be looking for the sharing and caring, just enjoying the fun of it. It’s been wonderful so far. Other than that decision, I also figured that after living a certain number of years one perhaps does not fall in love – or atleast not ‘fall’ like at 18. I once asked my mother, ‘so when does love and sex cease to be important?’ She said, ‘never.’ I thought, ‘sweet Mommy, what a romantic!’

So here am I, following my well laid plans and another delight rains down on me, or rather creeps up on me. We met and wandered up the mountain, delightful. So many intrinsic similarities, so much to talk about, great companionship – total support (remember we take people up mountains and that’s what we were doing) much laughter. The first wariness should have warned me, we were avoiding each other. But this awareness is coming in hindsight. Atleast I was avoiding him, I don’t know if I imagined him avoiding me. But we were still together in strategic places because it was necessary to share those things, we had a connection, it couldn’t be helped – I would wait to show him the best angle for the sunset (eeks) Did I even know I was doing it? This remembrance is wholly embarrassing. Has it started sounding like that 18 year old yet? It keeps getting better. So be together, bond and then feign indifference. Pretending that one is not feeling all the things one is actually feeling ( so comfortable and happy to be together) – know that one? Straight out of trashy romance.

Then it’s over, trip over, large goodbye party, tears and speeches all around – pour the heart out, because there is an excuse for it and you can in public forum – ‘you are like my alter ego – and – I will never forget you’ – cheese and all in the spirit of the moment and you believe it too. That’s all it is another trip, another lot of great people sharing a great time.

Go away, immersed in something completely different. Come back and realize we have a few more days together, just us. Amazing fun and those two days fly and so do I, and now all my preconceived notions have flown away.

The damn heart has a feeling in it, I don’t even want to call it a yearning or a pain, that means it gets a definition. How incomplete one is, when one is conceptualizing this wholly wise being, and you don’t want to admit that Mommy was right, you are an idiot and romance exists and no matter how long that heart has lived it still knows how to go pitter patter. Isn’t that completely exciting, just the discovery that this feeling can still happen – not just the bubbles and glee – but the angst too. Gracias mi amigo for rejuvenating a lost part of me.

IMG_4247Sorry for flawed photographs, but I only try to capture moments and know nothing about composition and the fact that an insect sat on the lens.