Vomit

I have to be somewhere else,
in the next 15 mins.
What I am doing right now
does not matter.
They are just the ramblings
of an unpaid, unproductive, childless housewife.
Where I have to be,
in the next fifteen minutes
is a place that matters to you.
Where they count, store, multiply and divide money.
Where you are treated rightfully
by the size of your account
or the colour of your card.
Yet I think I would rather be here right now.
I don't want to die without leaving this unsaid.
I want a gun.
Then I want a shooting instructor,
a female shooting instructor.
Then I want to felicitate hospitals where they practice female foeticide.
Why waste time giving birth to puny things which will be raped or killed later on anyway?
Then I want pills which can quell my nausea.
I am retching violently.
My Facebook page lists updates on reports of crimes against women in my country.
But what chills me, is the endorsement of the 'Girl Child Gift Basket' right next to it.
Some hateful bastards want to celebrate the birth of these little girls.
Maybe they want to rape them tomorrow? 

Time and Punishment

The entire country is outraged about the rape. Demanding death penalty, castration etc. for the rapists. Will that solve anything? Is fear enough? If Man just chose to do the right thing out of fear rather than out of choice, how is it a good system?

We are materialistic. Always have been. We grow the crops that bring us the most money. We would like to sow seeds in the womb that would  bring us the most benefits too. That's why the preference for the male child. We would like our sons to work towards the profession du jour, engineering, medicine, pimping whatever is the highest sought profession in that age. We will buy them certificates from excellent institutions that will qualify them as prospective engineers, doctors and pimps. Then we find them women who will adapt their lives to those of our sons.

Even after all this puppet-mastering, we don't stop. We constantly point out other friends' sons who are in the US or earning a billion dollars every year and whose child gifted them a world trip. Spurring on the blinkered horse.

Can an entire mass of men remain sane? They will snap. One way or another. Hatred for the mother which will manifest itself as a crime against women. Hatred for the father which will exhibit itself in incidents of domestic violence. There wont even be psychologists and psychiatrists to help these sick minds. Remember, you made engineers, doctors and pimps out of them?

In an age, where is art is neglected , beauty can cause extreme damage.

Imagine a grey, colourless bland world where everyone goes about their boring, insipid lives. One day, on a smoky morning in a grey street, there is a large canvas with a frighteningly beautiful painting on it. The art will evoke something in every one. However, never having known beauty, it will frighten them. They will be bewildered at first. Then a few bold ones will take up sharp knives, rush together at it and rent the beautiful painting to ribbons.

What we hold in our hand today are the shredded ribbons of our sanity.