What’s with this 'Bitchy' Trend?

There is a plain absurd trend in buzz, which is too tangy to bite and gulp down all in one breath. The reason it is too absurd is why I was compelled to take up for a long rant. The social media, where unless we are active people won’t believe we are alive, has actually become a battleground for people to show how they stand out. In this mad struggle, they have started choosing roads which are one-way and have no rules for treading whatsoever.

The new trend of reveling in calling oneself a ‘bitch’ seems inexplicable under every circumstance. So, you see pictures of girls pouting, posing weird and putting on a virtual gothic aura, trying to look like a rebel who must have done something extremely weird, calling themselves ‘bitches’. So, these new age bitches feel it is some sort of honor they have given themselves, something which makes them shine out from the crowd, giving them a distinct identity.

Mind you, this road is all one-way, for this passes like a breeze only till they use this cussword for themselves. They tend to make huge hue and cry out of situations where they are apparently called the same by people around them; for instance, strangers they bump into, hawkers they keep haggling with, drivers whose cars they keep ramming, guards who they demean or their parents, for that matter, who they don’t budge before misbehaving with. Under all these contexts, the cuss injures their ego to the point they are compelled to fill their eyes to the brim with kohl and then cry it all out. In fact, this whole drama is also accompanied by situational roleplaying of 'I-was-abused' that it takes days for them to get back to their usual ‘I-am-still-a-bitch’ self.

Call it generation gap or that I have passed the age to tune out any bullshit, I simply don’t get why wouldn’t one call herself a slut, for that matter, if it does no derogation to her image or reputation?

*slow slap (oops, clap)*

I see.

Behaving My Age

It’s that time of the lifetime when you finally have to change skins to become a responsible human being while your inner soul still pretends to be a kindergarten brat; that time when speaking shit comes as easy as a storm in a desert and listening patiently seems a task next to impossible; the age when the conscience about one’s own stupidity does not show up and everything that you say sound pearls of wisdom to yourself; when doing household tasks seem the most crucial KRA of your maid and you helping her in the same implies deduction in her salary; when the fact that you earn and work in an MNC overpowers everything else left to do in the world, including cooking and when you look in the mirror and feel tad too proud of the way you look and wonder who on Earth would be able to match that nerve and fail to find one name, even close – YES, this age, this time, this phase – PRECISELY this is when THEY decide to get you married!

It’s like taming a mad ape – accepting that you are getting married and knowing that you get to be the female in this setup – the traditional one who behaves the way others program her to. The one advice, order, request or commandment that you hear from all the directions, while you happily behave the way you have been doing since ages, is “behave your age”. “Well, I’ve been all the same!” is all I can say in return. Suddenly, everything you do right from dressing to walking, from speaking to shutting up, from eating to picking your utensils up from the table, from getting up in the morning to pretty much, existing starts to appear faulty to those people who loved every bit of whatever nonsense you did before THIS time.

Now, I try to behave my age – in fact the one well ahead of it. It will, obviously, take me some time to shed the skin I have been comfortably living in since ages. But all that I have got to do is try to monitor how I behave, timing my smile, gauging the number of times I nod, looking at all random places while keeping mum in a room where the topic being discussed seems as stupid as the arguments being thrown to defend each other by the people involved, checking the usage of words like shit, crap, fuck, bitch, booh and trying to fit in a circle of “all grownups”.

Or, I have got an easier way out! I believe in order to get a valid visa to be able to step into the shoes of an “espoused”, all that you need to do is screw this gyaan up and team with your spouse up for a bigger mess. You never know, he might already be choking himself while acting a “grownup”. Behaving your “self” over your age is a nice idea for a cool, relaxed life. I bet behaving my age would never come easy to me, especially when I know I am good when I am “a lady” but I am much more a fun when I am “me”.

CB: Chuck Bullshit!

I am sure you all must have seen this entire, front-page advertisement in a famous national daily and like me, you all must have been surprised to see the hype being created around a book. Chetan Bhagat; I should have guessed who could possibly be behind the whole campaign. This guy has reached a position in the industry, both publishing and cinema, where his words are considered worthy by financers to bet on.

I was able to digest, well almost, the fact that an author who has got nothing great to offer to the Indian literature has become the torch-bearer, a representative of the same. I am, suddenly, reminded of Honey Singh who proudly blabs out in his latest song that he would soon bring a Grammy home. Well, dreaming big bears no taxes or hidden charges, but all of us know what would the standard of the India music industrys be if he’s finally able to get one. Please chew and spit out the clichéd theory that Indian youth “wants” to hear to that kind of music. NO. Indian youth is being tortured to death by forcibly making them listen to these songs no matter where they go, be it clubs, bars, weddings, family functions or on any music channel, for that matter. It seems as if we are gagged by someone else’s choices.

Precisely, the same stands true for Chetan Bhagat. The fact that India Today’s Chief Editor, Arun Purie, had to write an article and explain WHY on earth he chose CB as his cover model for the August edition implies his feeling of guilt of having done something nobody expects of him – giving a revered space to someone who just doesn’t deserve. (India Today Editor-in-Chief Aroon Purie on Chetan Bhagat's forthcoming work of fiction)  

One Night @ the Call Centre, The 3 Mistakes of My Life, Five Point Someone, 2 States – I never found substance in any of his work and, now, his latest stint as a scriptwriter in the movie, Kick, has cooked up nothing but rotten Briyani this Eid for all the Salman Khan fans. Touted as the representative of Indian youth, a leader, a motivational speaker, Chetan Bhagat is trying to grab all possible accolades which could reserve him some space in media columns and TV talk shows.

There’s some deliberately concealed information beneath the buzz we hear around his upcoming book, Half Girlfriend. The fact that all the media bytes, advertisements and online publicity is being handled by Flipkart on its own expense is something we never hear about. Flipkart, on its attempt to outgrow other retailers like Amazon, Google or Kobo, is trying his hands at these marketing stunts. Further, the initial print run of the book is speculated to be two millions – a whopping number in a world where a print run of 5,000 grants the status of ‘bestseller’ to a book and where piracy comes as easy as poop.

I am sure his latest book would already have been bid for as a movie script by numerous prominent directors but all the avid readers know that whatever Chetan Bhagat writes is not only difficult to relate to, but also is tasteless, bitter tablet of BS served to someone who is out to savor the best delicacies being offered in publishing. It is surely not something readers die waiting for, contrary to popular belief. Chetan Bhagat is clearly not for someone who’s seen classic literature, exactly like Honey Singh is NOT for someone who knows what music is all about. Yet these guys are scoring big(!) – probably, it is high time for us to check our facts and boycott what media forcibly tries to dunk shot down our gorges.

Brain Processing (begin: snail-pace): Stop. Wait. Read blurb. Analyze if it’s really useful. Check reviews. Read Preface. Double-check if it sounds sense. Lastly, the author – does he/she talk sense when eyeballs try to pass him through. Still, you’re motivated to read? Congratulations! You’ve found your next read. 

Brain Processing (auto-mode: jet speed): Reading commences.  

#Delhi #Girls #Enoughsaid #Truth

Here, truth unleashed by a person who has actually been there, done that – a Delhi girl who had all her ancestors living and dying on this very soil and, thus, who knows it the best hands down. I am sure people like Honey Singh or amateur video film makers, who have been living in a virtual world of envy and covetousness, and their blasphemous productions in terms of music or videos, which went viral online, have conveyed the message entirely wrong and have ended up giving out a message which only compares to BS.

The reason why they find this subject worthy enough to ponder on is a proof enough that they just cannot kick Delhi girls out of their “small town” mind, which fits nothing right except for regrets of not being able to match up.

Fact check: we laugh, not giggle, when we see all those extremely amateur videos describing us and our ways and we sincerely wish speedy recovery of all those behind the scenes!

Plot Twist: During our catchups with friends and family, we discuss how these feeble-minded fellas have no clue how they are imposing their seriously flawed opinions about Delhi girls on people absolute strangers to them. They actually appear aliens to us, with zero sense of environment, class and substance.

Here’s why Delhi girls pay no attention to the crap ‘migrants’ spill about them:

1.   For us, absence of acknowledging class measures to having no class. Blame it on your taste if you don’t know why we spend a lot.

2.   “Maine aape ae kamayi, mainu daddy ne ni ditti”. Living in the land of opportunities, we have inbred feelings regarding earning and spending, despite the fact that our dad is filthy rich.

3.   You call it blabbering, we call it communicating. We love to speak and this bears no business with any third person whatsoever.

4.   Being a trophy wife is for losers! A Delhi girl knows how to earn every inch of respect she gets.

5.   Being educated is a dream for you? We spare you for that. We have been living the best of our lives amongst technology, media, Internet and all other first-hand pleasures you could only ambition about.

6.   Polygamy. A serious misconception about Delhi girls among people who don’t belong here. If your partner dumped you for being incapable, you don’t have to air any of YOUR generalized misconception about us. May be you were a born loser; may be, you deserve a nag, a dictator or a robot – surely not anyone who uses her brain.

7.   Metro, traffic signals, driving, shopping alone, gym, clubs, cafés, weekends, outings - all are NOT a big deal for us. No, we are not scared of doing all this alone. Babysitters are for serious losers!

8.   Opportunistic - nice way to hide your incapability to match her and her standards.

9.   Outwardly outspoken and selfish: being in a relationship doesn’t make us any bonded labor. We have a life beyond the relationship; our friends. Difficult to digest for you? We have railways and flights plying back to your town every hour! 

10. Attitude problem. Ohkay! This sounds li’l amateur to us. Ignoring you could have as a simple underlying implication as disliking you.

11. And to sum it all up, stop categorizing, please! Girls from Delhi smoke, drink, party all night, bed everyone, spend a lot, are impolite, are anti-social or are opportunistic are a few ideas people might have wrong implications about. Remember what Jacques Couture once said?  

Welcome to a cosmopolitan city!

 Have you ever heard us talk about paranoiacs from UP or behenji’s from Haryana? Yes. That. We hate being categorized on the filth someone else spills. Understood? #Kthanksbye

 

Very Simple!