Flaring up , feminism and all

What disturbs me about this woman in the template is that her pants are flared! I have no individuality I think my taste automatically sucks up to what’s in. All my perfectly usable flared jeans have been thrown away to be replaced with cheap replicas of tight skinny jeans made by some underpaid worker in China.

They are so much sexier than those dhol dhol flares!

And leggings are so cool! A couple of months back I would have just thought they looked slutty and /or silly. But now I totally like the idea of a short denim skirt and leggings underneath. What’s clothes got to do with brains , I wonder? As in the general perception is that smart arty women giving presentations/making polite conversation on gender issues or the south asian economic crisis are supposed to wear a loose mucus green fab india kurta and intellectual silver jewellery. I think I am going to wear something ‘silly’ the next time I have to do anything of that sort.

Home town

I never know where to say I am from. Here in gagaland, I always say I am from Bangalore. Well, most recently from Bangalore. The past three years. And because it is the first city where I lived my own life , found my little niche where I could have comfort conversations sitting on the stairs outside some old shop on Church Street and bump into four people I know on Brigade road. In ten minutes.

Anyway in class the other day, we were talking about the digital native. Which makes me realise that the internet is a big part of my life. It’s my only constant, I say, taking the risk of sounding melodramatic. My gmail account has ALL my chats with ALL the people I know for the past three years. My miserable three five subject notebooks cum journals hardly compare! ANd it has my mails and all my work and my contacts . I can see it from rural Tibet as well as from Jayanagar. i feel unsettled despite my claims of being hippie and all after a week of being away from the internet, my cozy gmail account with all its so very different rooms. Some are ‘nice, long and personal’, some are ‘tsunami rehabilitation’ and then ‘boy’ and then ‘Journalism’.

Etc.

We Indians have gotten used to our vagabond identities .I have never lived in the state that I am actually from till now. My parents were quick to shed their stately roots and go to where ever money and oppurtunity called them.THis is interesting because in every other way they are so conservative. They would want me to be a virgin till the last knot of the mangalsutra is confirmedly knotted. Yet they are willing to live anywhere or have been. ANd being in boarding school with people from all over india and going to colleges which had people from all over india means that I really have not experienced homogeniety of human content anywhere.

Who then am I is

my psuedo end to

this blog post.