Fucked up Indian male mentality

<@> She was a daughter. She was a sister. She was 23. She was a medical student. She had her life ahead of her. But, now she is no more. Her only crime? Being a woman. That is her only crime and for that she was raped and brutalized beyond reason. She fought, battled for her life for 15 days until she breathed her last on 29th December 2012.

For many of us, this is just a news; it will be forgotten in two weeks time until another similar horror story that sends shivers up our spines crop up and we will forget about it in due time as well. We have a convenient short memory.

This brave girl's struggle and eventual death should not be given into oblivion. Justice must be delivered to the demonic beings who perpetrated this crime. To hell with human rights when it comes to persecute these criminals. A punishment so severe that would cut another loose dick erection must be meted on those diabolic satans.

Let this be the last of such heart wrenching incident everywhere in the world. I am sure that it would have been the last wish of the brave, brave girl. Let us make her wish come true..<@>

The above refers to the girl who has been gang raped and mutilated beyond repair in a moving bus in New Delhi.

My recent blog, titled, Sexual harassment, a perennial problem, http://aradhanasmintyprofile.blogspot.com/2012/12/rape-perennial-problem.html#comment-form  evoked comments contained in ill will and malice.

Here are the comments:

-AnonymousDecember 27, 2012 3:34 AM
the victim is a north indian lady.norh indians call tamils kala madrasi,belittling and humiliating them so i don't give a fuck on any untoward incident involving aryans.

  1. maybe the victim is blessed with curves,has pink areola and scantily clad that attracted the attention of the attackers and they can't control their dick becoming morning wood and the rest is history.these ladies should first learn how to dress modestly and decently in appropriate clothes.the victim might have been fucking around with her boyfriend for months.

    The former comment is a racist one and I know who is the one cravenly hiding behind anonymity. Just because the victim is North Indian, he is alluding that she deserves it because of her ethnicity and fellow denizens who mock Tamils.

    The latter commentator passed the buck on female attributes and dress code being pulling factors to rape. Are males that prurient? Their dicks can erect and the urge to rape rises at the sight of women? Well, fuck yourselves for all glory! And, then, there is revulsion evoking presumption that the victim might have been fucking around with her boyfriend for months. His assumption can be construed as it is not wrong to rape a girl who probably slept with her boyfriend. This is how sick our male society is. Well, some of them, there are dignified gentlemen out there.
I was cruising on Facebook the other day an a chatter popped up and showed me a link which directed me to a photo of 2 fat aunties, clad in low back cut saree jackets. They were bending down, their respective meaty tush, in full display. I took a glance at it and didn't note a fellow standing next to the amply endowed ladies until the chatter pinpointed him to me, telling me to see his reaction.

The fellow was grabbing his crotch. His ding dong bell was erecting. I was condemning the vulgar gesture, that too at ladies who are old enough to be his mother. The chatter professed, "See, this is what happens when you dress like that." I was fucking seething at his rationale and hissed at him like a banshee in angst.

What a fucked up mentality! Ok, so does covering up from head to toe and wearing a burqa stop guys (I don't mean all guys, just some jerks who drool at the sight of a woman's toe) from looking at girls and curb sexual harassment?

                                      Inthe maari dress panna ok va???????

It is a fact that girls maintain their figure and dress up fashionably to be noticed but that doesn't mean that they can be subjected to unwanted attention referring to verbal and physical sexual harassment.

What if your sister or daughter wear skimpy, racy clothes? Will you rape them and later justify that their dressing turned you on when the perversion is in your mind.

The core of the problem lies in orthodox Indian patriarchy system where women are forced into submission; rebellion is forbidden and if a woman dares to speak her mind, she will be brutally silenced with rape being a tool to achieve complete subjection. Should the woman being raped try to fight the rapist off, she will be bloodied in order to teach a lesson on male supremacy and to put her in 'her place'.

Mothers tell their daughters to dress modestly, don't stay out at late nights and be careful at all times. They don't tell their sons not to rape or abstain from sex before marriage. That is why our society is as it is. Respect and recognition for women starts at home.

The rise of extreme porn is also contributing to the sadistic way a woman's chastity gets outraged. The satans in human form rip virgin girls' hymen apart by ramming foreign objects into their underside which inflicts excruciating pain.

This is plainly sick. Even animals don't do this. A new word needs to be coined to describe the perpetrators.

This mentality needs to be nipped in the bud. Teach boys from a young age to respect their complementing half and that they are equal. Treat boys and girls equally.

In my family, there is a relative that practice extreme patriarchy. They have an only daughter and 3 sons. The daughter is made to clean up after all three of her male siblings and do household chores while her male siblings play. The boys don't wash their plates after eating; their sister washes their dirty plates. Her Dad blames her for his recent misfortune. This is happening here, in Malaysia. And this is what encourages male chauvinism and disdain for females.

This is one case that I have seen. Goodness knows how many analogous cases are out there and how many sadistic rapists and perverts are forming or roaming at large who see women only as sexual objects.

Disable the core causal factor of rape and sexual harassment. Heavy penalties seem ineffective in curbing rape. Prevention is better than cure. Male mentality needs to be changed in the primordial stage, at inception. Maybe then sex crimes would grind to a halt. 

Sexual harassment, a perennial problem

Girls, ladies, women. They are our mothers, grandmothers, sisters, aunts, wives, daughters, friends, educators and they play integral roles in our lives.

In Hinduism, Goddesses are worshiped. Shakthi is said to be complementing the male counterpart, Shiva.
Goddesses idols are revered and priests go through elaborate lengths in order to glorify the deities' manifestation as an unbridled power without which the world will cease to exist.

Is that the case in real life? Are women revered? Are women protected? Are women empowered?

I am sure that by now all of you would have known about the gang rape and brutalizing of a 23 years old medical student in a moving bus in New Delhi. Later, after enduring the savage assault, she was stripped down and thrown out of the bus and was left to die on one of the busiest roads in the capital. A male friend who was escorting her and who had thwarted the harassment from the 6 men was also beaten badly and thrown off the bus as well.


That is the bitter truth, the grim reality. Women are seen as objects, not as a human being made from skin, flesh and blood.

Ask any woman who has taken the public bus here whether she has been groped at her privates and see her indisposition to open up.

Yes, we suffer in silence. Heavens knows how many times I've been 'pinched', 'elbowed', 'hit' and 'touched' at my intimate parts in crowded public buses while travelling to school, library and home.

I always tried to avoid crowded buses but sometimes, I had no choice. I had to take crowded buses in order  to be punctual to the places I go.

I would just close my eyes and will the disgust, anger and shame away as my modesty got outraged. At first, I felt my honor and chastity crumble away but later, I accepted it as one of the inconvenience of taking public transport.

This type of condoning only licence men to do whatever they want to women. No More!! If you feel a dickhead caressing your derriere, slipper him! If some guy rub himself on you, kick him in the groin! Sometimes, humiliation is the biggest and impacting punishment.

And, there is a buck passed to women, men saying that the way they dress turn them on and women actually ask for it. Lame pretext to justify perversion.

Men should not think if a girl wears miniskirt, she is a slut and it is an invitation to rape. And then there are paedophiles. Calling them diabolic satans is an euphemism.

What is worse, there seems to be tacit approval from society that this is a norm, an inescapable part of life. This reasoning must change. Nobody really talks about this. This subject evokes malaise but women who are sexually harassed suffer needless trauma.

There is no safety for a lone woman to be out at night. A fear that they are easy prey for sexual offenders and muggers is always inherent. It is a necessitated insecurity fueled and encouraged by gross impunity and ignorance. It shouldn't be the case.

It is only recently where women are slowly venturing out of the confines of a incarcerating homes and patriarchy system with the desire to achieve something in their lives and give back to society. To stand shoulder to shoulder with men. These kind of people will send back women back into the kitchen.

The drilling of giving women respect must begin at home. Teach boys that girls are their equal and subjugating female is a sordid practice.

I am waiting for the day where a woman can feel safe walking alone at night. That is the true liberation for women.

Legal penalties for sexual harassment must be made stringent. Penalties should be so harsh that an erection can chicken out.

This is the punishment for rapists in Iran. This model should be adopted by all countries' legal authority to fight crimes against women.

From straight As student to Mom at 18

I finished my secondary school in a relatively unpopular all girls school known as Sekolah Menengah Seri Intan, acronym, SMSI (Seri Intan High School) situated in Fair Park, Ipoh, Perak, Malaysia.

When I started Form 1, I befriended sparkly eyed, spirited girls from Chinese and Tamil primary vernacular schools besides girls from other national primary schools like myself.

When class allocation began based on our UPSR results, I witnessed gross and close to malicious bias.

Students from Tamil schools, regardless of their perfect UPSR scores were relegated to the 3rd best class in school and the other descending classes by grade.

The reason or I'd say pretext given to this relegation was the students taking up Tamil language as a subject and the classes teaching it colliding with Mandarin classes.

Even at that young age, I was thinking, what a phucked up system is this and knew that it is indeed a form of race discrimination. But, I didn't have the balls to stand up and challenge the partisan system and just kept belted up like my peers. I had nothing to do with it anyway so I didn't want to be in the school's authority's bad books. Yes, it was craven of me.

As soon as the announcement of the class allocation was made, I saw my excelled and promising schoolmates from Tamil primary school's faces fall. I genuinely felt sorry for them. I mean, they have worked their asses off to be the best of the best and there they stand, unable to join the cream of the crop even though they are more than qualified for it.

I befriended Suji (not her real name), a girl with dusky complexion from Tamil primary school, who had scored straight As in UPSR and also my school mate who lived in my neighbourhood, Kampung Tawas. She was also my school bus mate and sure enough, we became close friends.

I was a public bus virgin before secondary school. There were co-curricular activities in school on Saturdays and school buses do not operate on weekends. Suji was my constant company during such trips to and fro school on Saturdays as well as Tun Abdul Razak public library where we went to study initially.

From then onwards, I witnessed Suji's steady decline which took place in a span of two years of afternoon session schooling and my mingling with her to places we traveled and went to together.

Failing to nab the top class, culture shock, (she was used to be surrounded by Indian classmates and schoolmates) as well as with trouble conversing in Malay and English languages disillusioned Suji and she began to be in bad company in the manifestation of Form 2 unruly, domineering Indian girls who were literally out casts.

Next to SMSI, there is an all boys school by the name Sekolah Menengah Seri Putera (Seri Putera High School) acronym, SMSP.

In the afternoon, before the school bell rings, some boys and girls from both schools can be seen loitering in the platforms of shop lots situated in front of both secondary schools. The same is true after school, while waiting for transportation to take them home.

Suji was a compulsive flirt. I was her unwilling companion on those endeavours at Medan Kidd, Ipoh's bus central. Whenever she embarks on such quests, I will be standing by her, numbed and dumbed.

Suji hooked up with our school bus driver's son who was his Dad's apprentice after dropping out from school. The both have been  bermain mata (echange amorous eye contact) for some time, onboard the school bus. In fact, it was Suji who boldly told her feelings for him via the public phone and I was there.. for moral support of some sort although I was totally against her idea. I was too altruistic and friends are not supposed to oppose whatever shit his or her friend is getting into. If your friend is doing something stupid, you join in. That is the whole idea of friendship in teen years. Peer pressure is crazy when you are a teen.

So it goes, every other Meenatchi in my school has a Macha in her life and it was the unwritten rule that an Indian girl from SMSI must only choose her Macha from SMSP. I have witnessed tussles between several students from SMSP bashing up students from Anderson High School because they dared to chat up some Meenatchi from SMSI. Avanengge ellam nalla varuvanungge. (They all will reach great heights)

 I was not an exclusion. I too had some boys hurling monkey love lines my way and pressure from Suji and another imposing Form 2 Indian girl to accept any boy as my Macha but I was too timid to accept and found the trend newfangled of which didn't hit the right chord with me. Yes, you heard me correctly; I was timid.. Once upon a time. Not now, once upon a time.

I have been to Suji's house; she lived in a joint family system. Her Mom and Dad were factory workers and she had an adorable little brother. I have eaten out of her mother's hand and I call her 'Amma'(Mother) and wholeheartedly regarded her as my mother.

Suji too, invited herself to my place and insisted on borrowing my garb. Even though I knew that I will be in hot soup if my Mom learns that I've lent my garb to a friend, I willed the gut wrenching feeling away and gave Suji one my clothes which she liked. It was a black and white Alien Workshop ladies tee sporting a plunging V neck and little did I know that Suji planned to don it on a date with her boyfriend.

It was only the day she returned my tee that she said she wore it on an outing with the now, 'the love of her life'. Then, she showed me the hickeys he gave her on her neck and chest and told me that it led them to sex. I just froze. She was wearing my clothes while she was at it. The very thought was revolting but I didn't say anything to her. Once home, I washed and scrubbed my tee with Dynamo to my heart's content.

Suji, wearing my garb to make out with her boyfriend put the final nail in the coffin. I decided not to borrow her my clothes anymore.

The next time Suji asked for my clothes again, I told her that my Mom found out that I had lent her my tee and that she forbade me to do such thing again. It was a white lie but it worked.

Soon after my refusal to lend Suji clothes, she went on shopping sprees at a boutique situated at the shop in front of our school. I was her constant companion during such shopping splurges.

Suji also began gorging on expensive snacks like Snickers bars, Peel Fresh, Kit Kat, etc that she bought from a mini market while waiting for the school bus after school.

I continued visiting Suji's place and got to know all her family members and I observed their lifestyle. It was just a couple of notches down from lower middle class. At that time, Suji had already begun to neglect her studies and was going on an orgy of illicit not to mention illegitimate sexual adventures with her boyfriend who is much older than her. Her parents knew nothing of this.

I begun to wonder from where she gets all the money from. Her parents are not well heeled, so it was a paradox. I thought that perhaps they were giving it to her so that she would not feel deprived. Little did I know I would be embroiled in Suji's ploy in this money matters.

During sports practice, my classmate, Angie (not her real name) gave me her billfold for safekeeping when her turn to the long jump in a sand pit came. I wanted to go to the loo and I gave Angie's wallet to Suji. I trusted Suji. It was a major mistake.

I returned from the loo and got Angie's purse back from Suji and returned it to my class mate when she asked for it.

Later, on the way home on public bus, Suji gave me 2 RM 10 notes, one old note and another old note and told me to keep them until she asks them back. I innocently complied.

The next afternoon in school, there was a commotion outside my classroom and I came to know that the fuss was about Angie's money being stolen. Angie was stating that she lost RM 20, one old RM 10 note and another new RM 10 and I instantly knew that Suji was the culprit and that the money she gave me belonged to Angie.

I produced the money forth in a heartbeat and convicted that Suji was the one who gave me the money to keep and Angie, together with some of our other classmates and me marched to Suji's class to see what she has to say for herself, her turn for vindication .

Suji vehemently denied taking the money and nefariously framed me. A contention of accusation ensued and finally, Angie settled the dust. She gave both Suji and me the benefit of doubt. I was not gratified by Angie's amiable gesture and I made it as evident as possible. I wanted to go to the discipline teacher to report this incident and clear my name but Angie pulled me aside and said she trusts me, not Suji. The case officially closed and my idea to get the school authority arbitrary intervention was put paid to.

After that bitter apple of discord, I stopped talking to Suji and witnessed her deterioration from a distance; we took the same school bus and were schoolmates for five years after all. I got the hang of taking the town bus through the years and no longer needed Suji's companionship

Days went to years and we got into morning session school. I became a prefect and wayward, garrulous, Indian girls who are my fellow school mates loathed me. I refined my body language and mien and became stiff with the attitude of a Mastiff and no one dared to cross my way, be it girls or boys. Confidence is not sexy and appealing when you are a teen.

Suji didn't do well in her PMR. I don't know the actual grades but what I heard was that her PMR result was  abysmal.

Suji and I continued to drift apart until we were in our final year in school. I was travelling on my own track and Suji, on her own track and it was forked, going opposing directions. Rajini soldre maathiri, "Yen valli, thani valli." (Like Rajini says, "My way is an indie way.")

I last saw Suji on the last day of SPM exam and met her again in the Kampung Tawas wet market 2 years later, when I was studying HSC in Raja Perempuan School, acronym, RPS.

What I saw literally made my jaw drop. Suji was heavily carrying and she had one kid on tow. I just stood rooted to the spot. I just couldn't believe my eyes.

Suji caught a glimpse of me. I mustered a smile as she made eye contact and she approached me.

"Hema, yeppadi irukke?" (Hema, how are you?) Jolted out from the spell I was under, I stammered, "Yeah, naan nalla iruken." (Yeah, I'm fine) I go nuts when I am nervous and I pointed to her tummy, "Ithu yeppe?" (When did this happen?)
Suji replied in a small voice, "7 maasam aaghuthu." (It is nearing 7 months)

Suji disclosed that she got pregnant with the school bus driver's son she was dating and, they got married in immediacy, before her stomach shows. And, there was Suji's toddler kid, holding onto his Mom's dress. I pinched his chubby cheeks and he gave me a smile that would warm the coldest of hearts.

It seems Suji flunked her SPM. Wiping a tear off, she said in a thick voice that she regrets that she didn't get her priorities right. When she is supposed to be continuing her academic excellence, she had been gallivanting with boys. She said that she had thought that no matter how sublime she is at studies, she will be considered as a dreg of society, her achievements, met with disdain and prejudice. Yes, the class relegation for those who are from Tamil schools made a such a negative impact on her. Plus, the fact that Suji didn't own a built in life coach is another reason for her to go from straight As student to Mom at 18.

Some of my other friends from Tamil schools went on to pursue tertiary education and some failed to follow the sequence through.

At hindsight, I am feeling guilty. I had abandoned my friend whom I knew was travelling on the wrong track. I folded my arms and watched my friend get screwed.

Maybe some of you may think Suji dug her own grave but if only I had thwarted her moves, she would be a somebody now. The point is, I did nothing to steer Suji from the path of dereliction and I am filled with scruple.

Perhaps I didn't have the maturity and critical thinking like I have now. You know our school system, exam orientated that disallows cogent thought process, producing donkeys.

I had eaten out of Suji's mother's hands and I had let her daughter go when she needed me most. A betrayal in its own right. That guilt will not leave me till the day I breathe my last......

This is a story that needs to be told. This is also the driving factor why I wrote that vernacular schools should be integrated into national schools. But, for that to come into reality, restructuring and planning is needed and it may take decades for such a system to materialize.

Ours is a relegating system where the deserved is banished and the undeserved given opportunities at the cost of excellence. A point to ponder.

Indian idolizing

Today is a unique day. 12.12.12. This date only comes once every hundred years and many couples, especially Chinese lovebirds choose to tie the nuptial knot today, in belief that 12.12.12 is an auspicious date. As far as I am concerned, this is nothing but superstition. Try telling a guy who met with an accident today that today is a propitious day and see his reaction. It would be pretty ugly, his reaction.

Now let's leave the debate of superstition and take a look at Indian youth here prioritize when it comes to idolizing people of weighty significance and worth as well as fame.

Today is the birthday of Sivaji Rao, more famously known as Rajinikanth and his moniker, SUPER STAR. He is a south Indian actor and he shot to fame in the 80s in Tamilnadu's cinema industry as well as dabbling in Hindi and English, Telugu, Kannada and Malayalam cinema fields.

After a brief phase of portraying antagonistic characters in Tamil films, he gradually rose to become an established film actor. Within a few years, he was acclaimed as the superstar of Tamil cinema and continues to hold a matinee idol status in the popular culture of India. His mannerisms and stylised delivery of dialogue in films contribute to his mass popularity and appeal.

I was listening to THR Raaga today and it was out an out offshoot celebration of Rajini's birthday in the studio. Songs from the movies acted by Rajini and his special mention covered the whole slot of the programmes and they brought a Rajini imitator to the studio and have him utter several famous Rajini punch dialogues. Calls from listeners brimmed, them wishing Rajini happy birthday and all.

My question is, are such lengths to wish a film actor happy birthday necessary? Is such melodrama warranted and needed? I think not.

How many of us wish our parents happy birthday or even know the date our parents are born? Petthe thai ode birthday eh kondada mudiyileh ivungge Rajini ode birthday eh kondaduranggelam. ( Cannot celebrate the birthday of the lady who gave birth to us, we are celebrating Rajini's birthday)

And then, the callers' enthusiasm on wishing Rajini happy birthday. I mean, don't they have some grey matter in their cranium? Why you no think critically? It clearly shows how much Indian cinema has imbibed itself in the Indian numb skulls. All the gaga literally put me so off, I switched to Mix FM channel. I am an atheist but such individuals successfully made me go, "Oh God!"


Yes, Rajini is undeniably a great personality and human being. He is the epitome of modesty. He is humble and down to earth, very austere man, charitable, he had worked hard to be where he is now with grit and determination generously incorporated and applied.

I would have listened to THR Raaga with great interest today if the disc jockeys expounded the literal biography of Rajini, the disclosing of from his rags to riches story and hail him of being an excellent role model for the old and youth alike. Sadly, it didn't happen. What did happen is, a plethora of Rajini's punch dialogues professed by the guest Rajini imitator and Rajini mollycoddling.

 Talking about the birthdays of iconic Indian individuals, how many of us are aware that yesterday was the 130th birthday of Mahakavi Subramanya Bharathiyar, the great Indian poet? He, in his lifetime, was an exponent of women's rights and publicly opposed the caste system and earned many condemnation from casteists and misogynists. His ideas and thinking were ahead of his time. He would make a neat role model for our youth.

Actor or poet, high regard should be given for their inspiring humanizing accomplishments and the positive change they make in a John Doe and a Jane Doe's life.

Of wild accusations of me being anti-Tamil and standing headstrong

This, time, I wanna talk about me. How I am influenced by a motley of factors and how I apply them in my life is the subject of divulge in this blog.

Well, I have been branded a sub racist and anti Tamil. My blog, Me, anti Tamil???, has hit many raw nerves, my points, misconstrued and manipulated. My character and conduct as a lady has been tarnished as well, all of which have zero relativity to the subject of moot.

A post bearing my name was created on Facebook and while I had many criticizers, I had many supporters as well. It was neck to neck ratio. The heartening matter is, most of those who rooted for me were Tamils. The post, have, since, been removed by the Facebook team after someone reported it as abuse.

Perhaps those who chastised me want me to apologize and I was very close to doing it. I was a thread close to make a public apology on the Facebook page. I mean I have nothing to lose if I apologize. Then, something hit me, HARD. It was the power of my conscience, my inner voice. Sometimes one has to be intuitive.

My inner voice told me that I did not mean any harm or denouncement. What I wrote was not incitement, defamation or hate speech. In that light, how could it be deemed wrong and the necessity to apologize for it arise? It was purely a thought that took form in what I have seen in my lifetime. Maybe it didn't sit well for hypersensitive, dogmatic, nit-picking and scrutinizing individuals and lost souls but hey, it is impossible to please everyone  so I decided to please myself by refraining from issuing an apology.

Anyway, I did not vindicate myself on the post. The comments were profane and rife with ad hominem and I didn't want to stoop to such a low level of speech. I let them to do self character assassination and obliviously show their boorish colours and bloody-mindedness to all and sundry. It was really a free for all but I decided to let the vitriol be. What goes around comes around.

I am concentrating on the positive. When I thought I was standing alone in a crusade of preserving and the reinstating of my pride, others joined me. When I felt like a lone bobbing buoy a ship threw a lifeline for me to hold on and gave me a ray hope to continue what I love to do. I want to take this opportunity to thank you all who stuck with me.

Chastisements are inevitable when one is in a public forum. True to that principle, I am open for opposition and I have the KNOWLEDGE, MIND POWER, ATTITUDE and GUTS to face and counter it. I ain't no bimbo.

I have no ill will towards those who criticized me and those who literally defiled my image as a lady. They are issuing their vantage points as I am doing mine and telling them to mind their own business is none of my business. Freedom of speech is entitled to everyone.

Actually, I am indeed indebted to those who called me with profane terms and those who resorted to hate speech. Nothing best describes this than the picture below.



I cannot censure proof nature. Maybe my gender besides my sub race is easy game diatribe for blind, bigoted mindsets whose entrenched belief is if someone who doesn't belong to their race and gender writes something about their race, she must be a god damn racist who also harbours misandry. If you are not with me, you are against me mindset is the culprit behind this separatist thinking process.

The universe is unimaginably vast. My influence to this universe is infinitesimal. Likewise, the brickbats I received is also worth that much. I am the universe; few little black holes and quasars cannot perforate and outplay me.

Anyway, what I wrote above is the hallmark of my attitude. I can stay unfazed in the presence of an elephant in musth. Now, that is self confidence. Vadivelu (famous Tamil comedian) soldre maathiri, "Building strong-u aana basement konjum weak-u,"ingge anthe kathai kidaiyathu. (Like Vadivelu says, " Building is strong but basement is weak," that is not the case here.)


Point number 5 is what I am observing. Winston Churchill once said that if you keep on stopping to throw stones at the dogs who bark at you, it would slow your progression down.

Now, for the lessons I learnt from this hungama. I had to learnt to believe in the strength of my convictions and that I am more resilient than I thought I was.

People will condemn, no matter how noble your intentions are. It is human nature. If you show a person a white paper sheet with a tiny black dot on it and ask them what do they see, they will tell you that they see a black dot, the whole expanse of white, given into oblivion. But that doesn't mean the white doesn't exist.

And, I'm chilling like this Monalisa gone rascala! And, I will always chill with this major attitude!

Indian Hindu widows' stigma

I was watching a Tamil talkshow known as Neeya, Naana (You or me) and it got me thinking really deep. It was about the struggle of Indian widows and widowers, how they continue living without their better half.

I lost my Dad when I was 19. It was a bitter pill to swallow but I had to swallow it, like it or not.

At the instant of my Dad's demise, my Mom stopped wearing pottu and kungumam (bindi and sindhoor also know as tikka or vermillion and comes in all hues of red. Hindu married ladies wear those on their forehead and on the parting of the hair in front. It is a sign of a married Hindu woman. It serves as the red light in traffic lights which carries the message that a lady wearing sindhoor on her head is taken and any guy intending to woo her to pull the brakes. It is also said to lengthen one's husband's lifespan. Unmarried Hindu ladies, maidens and girls wear only bindi in a variety of colours and shapes, a round dot being the classic shape.), adorn her hair with fragrant flowers and the discarding of the thali. (Thali is also known as mangalsutr and is tied around a lady's neck by her husband on the wedding dais on their wedding day. It signifies commitment and possession. Yes, you heard me, POSSESSION. I hate this concept of Hindu marriage. Wearing the string like a tethered cow. Again, the presence of the string signifies that she is taken and putting a stop for wooing)

So it goes.. My Mom renounced the wearing of brightly coloured silk sarees. Instead she began wrapping herself with dull and drably coloured sarees. She stopped wearing the pottu and sindhoor and also adorning her hair with flowers. Pottu got replaced by a dot of sandal wood paste and a streak of vibuthi, (Hindu holy ash streaked on forehead to reflect piety)

To my eyes, my Mom looked beautiful and wholesome with the crimson pottu and sindhoor. The sudden renunciation of both attributes pained me and I am sure it pains my Mom more because each time she looks at the mirror, the fact that her husband is no more would be reminded to her.

I tried coaxing my Mom to wear at least a black or a maroon pottu but she would not hear of it. She conforms to the Hindu tradition outlined for widows. I have no idea of who founded such biased guidelines because a widower doesn't have to renounce or wear anything that describes a hallmark of  a widower so I am absolutely certain that these attributes devised for an Indian Hindu widow is the creation nation of misogynists whose aim is to subjugate women.

Not stopping at that, widows are considered as a bad omen and they are not allowed to stand in the front lines of auspicious functions like weddings, engagements and whatnot. The same is not true for widowers; they are given the same respect they got when they were married.

I Googled up widow and widower translated into Tamil and the following is the result.

- Widow = மறுமணம் செய்து கொள்ளாத விதவை

Translated literally into Roman characters, it sounds like this, 'marumanam seithu kollathe vithavei.
It means a widow who has not remarried. The word vithavei itself means widow and is the most used term to call widows.

Now let's look at widower and witness the missing link.

- Widower = மனைவியை இழந்தவன்

Translated literally into Roman characters, it sounds like this, 'a man who has lost his wife'
That is it. There is no one word to describe a widower as a whole like 'vithavei' But, I do not know whether other Indian languages have a term for it. I am speaking as far as I know.

Unfair, isn't it and to think such Dark Age mentality exists in the modern world is beyond sad.

Indian widows are looked upon with a jaundiced view and are subject a subject of scorn. While a widower remarrying is acceptable, a widow remarrying would stir up rumours and grapevine. What is tragic is, it is women, more often than not, monger gossip, adding salt and spice as they go about carrying tales. 

The moment an Indian Hindu widow considers or even speaks of remarriage, she would be presented with aghast looks and gasps as though she has called an apple orange. In extreme cases, she would be called prurient, forgetting that marriage is not all about sex; marriage is contained in companionship and life support mostly. 

An Indian Hindu widower is free to remarry. Not a soul would question him.

About a century ago, in India, there was a practice known as 'sati'. A lady whose husband is no more will be cremated together with her husband's dead body, alive. It didn't matter if she was 8 (in cases of child marriage) or 80. When British colonized India, they put paid of this savage ritual but it still exists in some remote parts of India.

We are in the 22nd century. Technology has become an integral part of mankind, yet such outdated practices are still observed. Yengge poyi muttikeruthu? (Where should I bang my head?) 

Sati was ridden off but many Indian Hindu widows are ambulatory corpses, their happiness, carnal desire, respect, recognition and self esteem, repressed and seized savagely by so called 'tradition'.

All this demeaning suppression of widows are purely unwarranted and uncalled for. Their pottu, adornments, and happiness die along with their husband. Who has the right to say this is how widows should dress and this is how they should behave and this is how others should view them?

There is a ritual observed once a lady's husband dies. She would be adorned like a bride then have all the semblances of a married woman stripped off her violently and the tragic thing is, women do it and they are known as professional mourners.

Here is a video demonstrating how it is done.


In India, it is even worse. Here is a snippet of Oprah witnessing the Indian widow stigma in India.

Thousands of widows, of all ages,  from all over India have made the holy cities of Varanasi and Vrindavan their home.  Every year they are joined by hundreds more

.Many of these widows are here because they have been driven out from their homes and they have no place else to go.  They live in terrible poverty, generally begging for alms on the streets or singing at temples for a measly meal.

 Many of the younger widows are forced into prostitutionThey wear white, the only color widows are permitted to wear, and their clothing becomes a source of discrimination for them, much like the yellow star for the Jews.  Even today, middle-class educated Indians shun the presence of widows at certain ceremonies like weddings, because they are thought to bring “bad luck.”

For centuries widows have been socially ostracized in India.   Sati was a practice where widows would be burnt alive on their husband’s pyres.  Even after sati has been legally banned, there continue to be isolated incidents. In western India, there are temples that glorify sati, that the government of India does not dare take down.


While it is not that extreme in Malaysia, some semblance of widow discrimination is extant, like the stripping of the thali, flowers, the smashing of colourful glass bangles and the rubbing off of the pottu on her husband's death service and the restriction of not to wear them in the lifetime she has got ahead. The lady is already in untold grief and this ritual only orders more sorrow for her, not consolation. The very purpose for a funeral is for commiseration for the bereaved, not rubbing their loss in. This rite only adds salt to a raw injury and stereotype women.

When my Mom was about to be subjected to the heartbreaking ritual during my father's funeral, I stirred up a hue and cry, forbidding the damn women from laying a finger on my mother. I made so much fuss along with my siblings, that the priest finally gave in, the ritual, aborted.

Likewise, us the younger generation of educated, progressive Indians should call for the abortion of such redundant, partisan rites and conforms that are irrelevant to these times.

We should be able to draw the distinction between which cultural rites that we should stick to and those which belong to the dumpster of the present. Garbage has more value than such practices. 

Culture should be ever evolving, not ever devolving or stagnant. If one is adamant to live in the past risks his or her present and future's advancement. I mean, what kind of human being could eschew a woman who has lost her husband who is their mother, aunt, sister, niece, cousin etc? Surely an ass. 

The overall aim of life is to be as happy as we could be and no one has the right to steal the happiness of others. Hindu Indian widows deserve the felicity they had in their maiden and married days. They should flaunt their pottu, wrap themselves in gaily coloured sarees, adorn their hair with flowers and make themselves look beautiful. It is a basic human right and those who think otherwise are nothing but sadists.


Me, hate Tamils??

Please read the following with a neutral frame of mind.

Copying western culture is OK, but copying Tamilnadu culture is not ok?
Fantastic view point. You forget where you belong.
I repeat what the Muniandy Chinnadurai petronas ad says "The world is changing. But we are always proud of what we are.".

Looks like you are not proud of what you are.
This is like saying "pakkathu street la sigappa oruthar irukkare avar than enga appa."

Neengallam nalla varuveenga. Nanri!

She is Telegu and she hates Tamil to core .All her negativity will be reflected to Tamils , why Telegu movied do no have Dappankuthu ?

She hates Tamils till she don't want to use the word Deepavali but choose to use Diwali .Diwali is iused by Northern Indian but in Malaysia common word is Deepavali which is a tamil word.

Your article is half complete and lacks in depth research, Sonia Ghandi was working in tandem with LTTE to smuggle God's statute/artifices from India to European country .Some of this are sold in Sonia's sister shop in Italy . You also did not mention the role China in this conflict who was playing shadow game with Sri Lanka . The Tamil diaspora around the world has brought this to UN level and working hard on this matter.So for you who has no role except being arm chair critic plus being a Tamil hater .You are linking the objection abt Rajapaksee by local Malaysian Tamil with Tamil Nadu politics plus Palestine and the whole world issue .Maybe you are the one in cloud nine by writing subtly this article which reflects your hatred against tamils in general.

The above is the caustic criticism I received after blogging about dappanguthu for Diwali and the Sri Lankan issue and it is all because of me being a Telugu. Yes, racism is rearing its ugly head again and in actuality, it is not racism; it's sub racism because Indian is a race as a whole. Telugu, Tulu, Marati, Malayalam, Bihari, Punjabi and whatnot are Indian sub races.

For the people who gave me great flak of supposedly being anti Tamil maybe keep me along the lines of Presana Narayanan. 

I countered those comments on the blog itself and for those who are yet to read them, look up my previous blogs. Here are the links. http://aradhanasmintyprofile.blogspot.com/2012/11/dappanguthu-for-diwali-what-hell-la.html http://aradhanasmintyprofile.blogspot.com/2012/11/in-reference-to-latest-brouhaha-among.html

All of what I wrote, is writing and will write is in good faith. Tamil is the majority of the Indian community in Malaysia, with specks of Telugus, Malayalees and Punjabis here and there.

So, true to the principle of majority wins and rules, I mostly slant into the reference of Tamil, Tamil movies from India being the most often used factor by me. For those who follow and read my blog on a  regular basis should by now know that I incorporate Tamil sentences and phrases in my blog and give  their definitions in English. I also do the same thing in Bahasa Malaysia. It is my blogging idiosyncrasy; it gives a refreshing oomph to my writings. On the question of why I chose Tamil is again true to the majority rules principle. If I write in Malayalam or Telugu, it would sound out of place. Athellam kannuku teriyathu,. (Those things get conveniently ignored) 

I am a Telugu. I gorge on gongura (puliche kirei curry. It's a famous Andhra dish and in English it is known as sorrel leaves) rice and wear my saree's pallu (pallu is a Hindi word and I believe the Tamil word for pallu is mundhanai) on the right side and I speak Telugu at home. My connection with Telugu stops at that. Ugadhi and Sankrathri (Ponggal) are just another days for my family. 

85% of what I watch and listen to is Tamil cinema and Tamil music. And, I watch more Hindi movies than Telugu movies besides movies from Hollywood. Frankly speaking, I hate most Telugu movies; the villains bellow, "Heeeeeeyyy, Heeeeeyyy" for no good reason and the surplus of songs in Telugu movies is sickening because they disrupt the continuity of the plot. Again, the predilection of the majority rules nuance plays a part in my choice of entertainment.

99% of Indian entertainment in Malaysia is from Kollywood and Bollywood and a fraction of the percentage can be accorded to the Malaysians of Indian ethnicity entertainment artistes. Telugu, Malayalam and Punjabi films are so limited, they are insignificant. Having that status quo, it is only natural for me to write about what dominates and leave out the small timers. My niece, Keisha Shena, is known as Cinema Pro in my family. She is 8 and goes to a Chinese school and yet she knows every of late Tamil movie and can identify every Tamil actor. This is just another example of Tamil films' influence on the Indian community as a whole here, with Punjabis being an isolated case. 

The thing is, if a Tamil writes in a critical manner like our Sk Durai (I'm a great fan of him and rageindian blog) it is acceptable and validated but the minute a non Tamil writes about Tamil (I write more about Indians than Tamils), he or she instantly becomes anti Tamil!! Yennangeda ithu?? Ithu nyayama? (What the heck is this?? Is it fair?) Just because I'm Telugu and when I write about Indians as a whole, my gist gets dissected and then misinterpreted and I got branded anti Tamil. It is just like how godmen misinterpret holy verses, making their own preposterous presumptions.

The anonymous bloke up there wrote that I hate Tamils because I used the word Diwali instead of Deepavali, which is Tamil. Ada paavi, room pottu yosicharu pole irukeh.. (Sinner dude, perhaps he booked a room and thought of it) I merely wrote Diwali because it shorter than Deepavali, saves time la.. Even before I wrote about the dappanguthu ad, I wrote Diwali rants and it got only one comment, a smiley icon. Unfair no? Diwali or Deepavali, it is celebrated by Hindus all over the world. What's the big deal in the Festival of Lights being called Diwali or Deepavali? Are all the people who call this festival as Diwali anti Tamil? It is beyond tragic to know that this kind of people with siege mentality exist among us.

Another dude totally demeaned my birth. He subtly called me bastard by saying "Pakathe street le sivappe oruthar irukare, avar than engge appa." (The wheatish skinned man who lives down the street is my father.) Need I say more? I didn't choose my skin colour; I was born fair. I can't alter my genes. He was saying that I forgot my culture and values by me saying that dappanguthu is not up to the height of the Indian culture. He is advising me not to forget my culture and values by letting his culture and values go to the dogs by speaking the way he did. So much for walking his talk.

Forgive me but I have to voice this out. Maybe Tamils here have an inferiority complex, especially the dark skinned ones. They are, more often than not, subjected to racial slurs, being called pariah and keling of which I am vehemently against! It is highly unfair but calling other Indians with fair complexion as anti-Tamil is also not right; it is racial prejudice in its own right! I am known as Hemulu by my Indian friends in secondary school because of my Telugu roots and paradoxically, I speak Tamil better than I do my mother tongue. I personally was never subjected to racial slurs at any phase of my life and neither I have ridiculed anyone on the basis of skin colour, race and religion.  

We should stop trying to emulate India in Malaysia. India is a nation of great divide; they are not only sub racists, they are casteists as well. We mustn't replicate India here. If we try to do it, we will be at the losing end. 

We are a marginalized minority here, Malaysians of Indian ethnicity which is inclusive of Tamils, Telugus, Malayalees and Punjabis and unless we don't stop dividing ourselves by sub-races there is no way for us to become a consolidated community. In governmental documents there are no columns for Telugu, Tamil, Punjabi or Malayalee, only Indian. And,our, together with our Malay, Chinese and whatnot compatriots' (at least those who support PKR) ultimate want is there being only two columns,  Warganegara Malaysia (Malaysian citizen) and Bukan Warganegara Malaysia (Non Malaysian citizen) 

With this kind of enmity and ill will, a dynamically and progressively united Malaysian of Indian ethnicity would remain a mere dream and the creation of Bangsa Malaysia, an unreachable utopia. We are shy 8 years away from 2020. 8 varusham chumma apdiye parenthe poyirum (the 8 years would simply fly by) Will we keep on identifying Tamil haters and persecute them of racism or are we gonna be united with an unanimous voice to have what is rightfully ours? The choice is yours; you are the hero of this story and together, we can make history. DOT. 

I'd like to quote Honest Abe, "A house divided against its own will never stand." It is high time we jettisoned  our divisive mentality and operate as a single unit of solidarity like Malaysians of Chinese ethnicity.


The Sri Lankan issue

In reference to the latest brouhaha among Malaysians of Indian ethnicity condemning Mahinda Rajapakse's visit to Malaysia, I have a few words to agree to disagree to the uprising here.
Actually, Tamilnadu and India as whole don't give a damn for the Tamil genocide in Sri Lanka. India actually caused it then, condoned it. 

When guerilla war started in SL (Sri Lanka), Rajiv Gandhi deployed an army team from India to SL and the soldiers began raping the Tamil girls, the very individuals they are supposed to protect. They were even killing the girls after raping to save themselves from the crime and the obscuring of evidence.

The LTTE (Liberation of Tigers Tamil Eelam) went to Rajiv Gandhi and requested for him to withdraw the Indian army from SL and Rajiv observed inaction which led up to his asassination in 1993 by suicide bomber who belongs to the Tamil Tigers. I'm sure all of you know about this. Huge news it was.

After that, Karunanithi became Tamilnadu's CM and he didn't give a damn to the civil war in SL. He was busy enriching himself and his family via nepotism and elitism. The Sun Network (our Astro Maharaja package) belongs to Kalanithi Maran, Karunanithi's relative and mnay of the corrupt politicians' family members were appointed as Central and State ministers. Nepotism and elitism la.. apa lagi? (what more)

That old hog came into power via DMK (Dravida Munnetra Kalagam) and is god damn power greedy. Lebih kurang (More or less) like our BN ministers la..

Sonia Gandhi, (Rajiv Gandhi's widow) meanwhile planned revenge on LTTE for killing her husband, (yes, very Tamil movie-ish) and commited sabotage; India actually supplied ammunition to the Singhalese government to kill Tamilians. Karunanithi, TN's CM at that time did nothing to stop the carnage. Dok berpeluk tubuh je dia.. (He was just sitting with folded arms.) 

Many Sri Lankan Tamils died because of this; they paid an awfully unfair price. For one life of Rajiv Gandhi, 200 000 people perished with the world, looking on, doing nothing. Even UN withdrew its troops from there much to the Tamil's dismay and fear.

In a precis, it won't be erroneous to say that Sonia Gandhi (former Italian bar dancer turned wife of Rajiv Gandhi and she is now saving Italy from bankruptcy using Indian funds.) and Karunanithi who sat put and watched thousands of innocent Tamils die in vain indirectly caused the genocide.

Allowing or barring Rajapakse to Malaysia is not gonna make a difference, the damage is already done. It is actually good in terms of reverse psychology if Rajapakse's visit here is not cancelled. Sentimental Indians here won't vote for BN in the looming 13th GE and unknowingly do themselves a great big favour. 

Us, Indian diaspora can only holler our dissatisfaction then go back to the comfort of our homes while the genocide go on like it's never gonna stop. Hypocrisy of the highest order, come to think of it.

Here, Malaysians of Indian ethnicity can do the funky chicken, run around naked, do the Gangnam Style  on the streets protesting that Rajapakse should not step on the Malaysian soil and for the senseless killings to stop  but nothing is gonna happen for yo, my peeps. Najib ain't gonna give a shit. Onnum pudunga mudiyathu. (You can't muster any shit that is going to make a change.) With less than 10% of the population and 1.5% of the holding of economy, wtf we can do to make an impacting impression that would bring change? Leave Rajapakse, we can't fucking get the government's attention regarding the plight of stateless Indians, the dismal conditions of our Tamil schools, deserving university seats and gangsterism. What makes us think we can stop the massacre in Sri Lanka? We are Yindian Superman! Najib would laugh at our face only. That is the only thing we can budge him to do.

Finally, Rajapakse visit got cancelled and we now can be on cloud nine, thinking that our government is listening to the minority and maybe even applying populist statecraft. Really? I say shit you not! The reason behind the murderer out in the loose visitation cancelled was proclaimed to be him, having other plans, not for any other reason. Ithu epdi irukku? (How is this?) I can hear you dropping from cloud nine with a BANG!! Lost water face lah! Mana mau letak muka sekarang? (Where to put our faces now?)

We have pressing Malaysians of Indian ethnicity issues at home, that are seeing next to nothing resolution and we tend to get carried away and get out off at a tangent, our hearts, ruling our heads. We have Tamilians chopping up another Tamilian here, if you get what I'm pinpointing. I'm not saying that we should condone the genocide in SL I watched the video of the killing fields and went boo hoo (Yes, I'm a sentimental and a softie too.. What to do? Ai yam alsso Yindian!) but so did I when I watched the video of the crisis in Gaza.

Syria's conflict, African nations under junta rule, the plight of Rohingya Muslims have people dying every day and every crime against humanity deserves our attention and we must pay concern to it all and help the criminal acts hop onto stoppage, not choose who to help and who to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to the other. 

Pain, suffering, anguish, hunger and thirst feels the same for everyone, regardless of ethnicity, religion and beliefs and those factors don't feel good and yet homo sapiens seem to enjoy inflicting those onto each other. What a sick world we live in. 

While it is good to rise against crimes against humanity, one must do it as a human, not based on race and religion. If one does it with race and religion connection as basal, he is no lesser than a criminal who commits crimes against humanity.

The obsession with As

It is exam and result proclamation time once again for primary and secondary school goers of Malaysia and whether or not the kids have cold feet, their folks are left with sweaty palms and sleepless nights should their children fail to get all As.

Getting straight As is now not only a matter of academic excellence, it has also become a matter of prestige and stature for parents. It is the licence to gloat and some parents go to extreme measures to ensure their children get an A now, A + in all the subjects listed for exam.

If a child gets 6 As and 1 B, the 6 As would be given to oblivion, the B, getting immense flak and rubbed in. I scored 4 As and 1 B in UPSR and my Mom called me an imbecile for not being able to score all As. It killed me, the word, 'imbecile'. I wouldn't have minded if my siblings called me that but my Mom is the most important person in my life. That word coming from her just ruined the equilibrium of my psyche. I still remember it to this day and the thought never ceased to make me feel so small and worthless. I remember crying myself to sleep months after that, when I was in Form 1 even though I was in the best class in the whole secondary school.

Parents drill their kids, send them to tuition, block all entertainment channnels on Astro, only allowing them to watch Tutor TV and disallow them to play with their friends, demanding them to study for hours on end.

I know parents mean well. They ensure that their exam undergoing kids have proper nutrition and the necessary exercises so that their children would be able to pass with flying colours. I now know my mother meant for me to take the word 'imbecile' and turn it around to 'capable' but the way she conveyed it is not right and as a 12 year old, I couldn't discern the interspersed message; I took it at face value and the way I saw it, the B stuck out like a sore thumb that I have no idea how to weed out. I'm using the word weed because that is how a score less than an A is perceived, a pesky weed that damages the landscape of perfection and everyone, from the kid, to his or her teacher and parents are terrifically terrified of the 'damned weed'. God forbid if a pernicious B gets it's stamp on the exam result certificate. I don't need to expound further if a score less than a B is obtained by the kid.

So, there it goes, children are made to practice on last year exam questions, predict questions that might come out in this year's exam paper, made to memorize formulas, historical chronology, scientific experiments like hell. Dedicated teachers would hold extra classes to go the extra mile in making sure their students get all flat scores. As much as I admire the dedication and the 'no stone left unturned' method of grounding by parents and teachers alike, all they successfully produce are what I give term as 'pre-programmed minds' whose worth is the amount of As they churn up.

These minds purge what has been 'programmed' into them on the exam sheets. Understanding and application of the knowledge acquired is minimal.

This status quo is such because of the exam orientated education system here, thus the obsession with As. It doesn't help when those who obtain straight As be made to stand in the mass media limelight and those who scored less, eschewed and even spurned.

I was a product of this system as well but I will say that I am not a victim of this system. I was not an ideal student, I was never a teacher's pet but I take my education very seriously and I am happy with where I am now.

Hitting the books only for studying for exams is not the correct way to nurture the ingenuity present in all of us. One mustn't read books only for exam; they should read to gain knowledge of everything under the sun. Supplementary reading material is imperative for the mind to enrich itself. How many kids these days know about the Bermuda Triangle, Easter Island, Don Quixote, Davy Crockett, Harriet Tubman, Theodore Roosevelt and many many more? Reading should be an idea of fun, not a chore.

I am not saying that it is okay for kids to fall back in studies. I'm only saying that the obsession with As is sordid. It puts tonnes of pressure on the youngsters' malleable shoulders and they will crumble under all that pressure.

Education is the only ticket out of neediness, deprivation and adversity but, education is not proof for intelligence. On that count, a student who scored all As in government exams cannot be confirmed as having higher IQ than a student that scored less As. Tertiary education system is downright different and students who memorize then purge the load on exam answer sheets will be like fish out of water in college and universities.

Learning is a lifelong process and to gauge intelligence based on how many As one is able to churn up is folly and inapplicable. While most won't turn up being like Bill Gates, Ambani and Steve Jobs, making it big without even a degree, doesn't mean scoring all As will ascertain an opulent life.

Parents, don't stuff your unattainable ambitions on your children and never compare your children's grades with their better scoring peers. It just sours their joy and soars their anger. Comparing will not do them any good; consolidating their confidence will take them places and it is worth much more than a string of As. Your children would appreciate it because it is the greatest gift any parent could ever give. My Dad gave the gift to me and I will be forever thankful to him.

Post-Diwali rants

With Diwali cheer coming to a close, it is time for some retrospection and contemplation for me. This blog is not about social issues and if you want to read a blog which carries a message like my previous blogs, I say, don't waste your time.

For me, Diwali means get together time, where grapevine, proclamations, lamentations and complaints are shared, then gutted out. Topics of discussion vary from family matters, politics, spirituality and current issues.

We used to gorge on chicken curry and mutton curry on Diwali eve when we make food offerings to our progenitors and on Diwali day but in the past 4 years we are observing vegetarianism both on Diwali eve and Diwali day. I have no problem with observing vegetarianism, no matter what reason is behind it, be it spiritual or health consciousness.

The next day after Diwali, we held a dinner party and the food is all out non-vegetarian. This only comes across as hypocrisy to me not to mention arduous as we, ladies are the ones who end up cooking, serving and cleaning. Diwali is for kids and men to enjoy while the ladies bear the onus of endless petty chores.

My only brother met with an accident on 5th August, 2012 and it was a harrowing experience for my family and I. We were thoroughly shaken up and terrified by the incident and the shock is just beginning to wear off. As anyone would expect, tragedy like this takes the topic for discussion's crown and it is the same for us and we did some flashbacks.

While Malaysians generally don't give much credit to the Malaysian Royal Police Force, PDRM, shrugging it off as being the current ruling regime's tool, stooge and henchmen, there are policeman who take their job seriously and execute what is expected of them sincerely without hinting for under table money and we were lucky to come across a policeman with such integrity.

Bad apples like the case of Kuhan and the recent 3 policemen gang raping an Indonesian woman blacken the stature of the police institution as a whole.

While we wondering where my brother would have crashed in Ipoh General Hospital, where he was admitted, (he met with the accident while on his way home on his motorbike after night shift duty and he couldn't recall anything) my adopted brother, his fiancee, my Mom and me went to do some sleuthing work; we temporarily donned Sherlock Holmes' cloak, you would say.

My adopted brother drove along the route my brother takes to go and return for work. We kept our eyes peeled, looking out for the tiniest clue and remainders of a crash site and couldn't find any.

Having our investigation contained in futility, my adopted brother drove to the Chemor police station and the police officer there redirected us to Ulu Kuang police station. The policeman who dealt with us was extremely humble and simpatico. He told us, frame by frame on how he saw my brother lying down at the side of the road, alerted the ambulance, gathered my brother's scattered belongings and how he wheeled the stricken motorbike to the police station for safekeeping.

Next, the policeman began to describe how the accident may have happened judging from the position of my befallen brother and his two wheeler. He passed the buck on heavy turbulence generated by a speeding truck or lorry that made my brother lose control of his vehicle. Another theory was my brother, dozing off while riding his bike, taking his night shift work weariness into account. The policeman asked after the man he saved and we told him that he sustained superficial injuries and that he will have a speedy recovery.

After that, the policeman expressed his relief and gladness that my brother is going to be alright and as my adopted brother pumped the gentleman's hand up and down, thanking him profusely for his timely and immediate help, the policeman smiled and said that he only did his job.

My adopted brother and his fiancee were saying that it is hard to find such a friendly police personnel in Kuala Lumpur.

If you have been following my blog, you would have been informed that my immediate family are devotees to  a Guru (saint) who lives in a rural area in South India. They have renounced idol worship and embraced this new, kind of denomination of Hinduism thingy that has no solid back up and history whatsoever. I'm using an euphemism here. The Guru is a gaunt, haggard old man who roams the part of the aforementioned area. I'm maintaining anonymity here in order not to hit on raw nerves.

Diwali this year conflated the topic of my brother's mishap into spirituality and I was left judging.

My brother steadfastly believes that the Guru came in the form of the policeman to rescue him and my believer elder sisters egg him up, poking fire. He also believes that the accident happened because of the karma that he committed in his past births; he was paying for it, equaling karma and dharma up. I do not know whether to laugh or cry. Not wanting to sound blasphemous, I kept my mouth shut but I couldn't belt my inner voice up. It kept surfacing, saying, "What bunkum is this?"

My eldest sister was keeping at stoking my brother up and he, readily gives his head to the spiritual guillotine, losing his head. I accidentally heard my sister speaking to my brother about the Guru dancing to urumi melam (South Indian drums, you know the round thingamabobs our boys beat during Thaipusam that emits bouncy beats) in her meditation. The Guru looks like Omakuchi (an Indian actor who resembles Gollum) and he is very much likely to drop dead at any moment at the slightest exertion.

I always stay away from listening to such nincompoopery and bollocks but that day, the asinine, conjured up revelation fell on my ears and my blood boiled. I sidled away quietly because if I had stayed on, a dissonance is sure to ensue, spoiling our festive mood.

The only ones whom I discerned to be genuine in their spiritualism and meditation are my 4th sister, brother and sister-in-law; they never talk about seeing visions and experiencing supernatural nuances while in meditation and routine life and meditate often and truthfully. Others are faking it. It is so obvious judging from plain, simple logic as base.

Rishis and mahans (Rishis and Mahans are Hindu saints) of ancient India took eons of being in a ruminating state to become enlightened and have Gods appear before them to grant boons. My eldest sister has defied all the feats of the Hindu saints' of yesteryear and is now leading.

As much as I love my family, I abhor some quarters of them because of their tendency to indulge in religious hyperbole and the fact that my only brother falls hook, line and sinker to everything my eldest sister say, all of which are nothing but figments of her imagination.

In my family, there is a tradition called 'grouping', that is, birds of a feather flock together and I don't fit in anywhere at all. I'm like on a lone island where I am the queen and the minister whose anarchy and lawfulness is only determined by conscience, cogent thought process and acquired virtues, not some mumbo-jumbo of an unearthly nyanavallal poochandy. (omniscient boogeyman) who knows all the army secrets of all countries and the thinking of all human beings. I was afraid of my sacrilegious thoughts back then but not anymore. I ain't a wide eyed kid no more to buy the claim, "If you don't believe, God will punish you heavily."

My 4th sister asked a very good question, illustrating why the Guru and my eldest sisters did not issue a warning that our brother has a debacle coming his way and the sensible query silenced the Guru's zealots in my family, albeit briefly. It was a question that was running in my mind but I didn't ask it aloud because I am not in their 'flock'. My 4th sister prodded our eldest sister, "You speak of seeing visions of divinity and predictions so how come you or Guru didn't see this one coming?" As my eldest sister searched for words, my brother came to her rescue, saying that it had to happen so it happened and it was his karma. He also said that it is the grace of the Guru which saved him from being mortally wounded. Talk about blind faith. So, now, that quarter is back on the deception track again.

Privately, my sister-in-law shared with me that in the village in India, where the Guru is based, the village folk don't give a damn to the old man. As far as they are concerned, he is a gallivanting beggar, not the avatar of God and is not worshiped to. Only people from Malaysia believe that they had found God in the form of the Guru and make trips to and fro India in order to meet the Guru and one short, visit India. The person who organizes such trips is a self appointed disciple to this Guru and he is also called as guru by the devotees. Me, being a proud but lonely deviant, am convinced that this is money making business for the disciple. The POWER of CURRENCY. The POWER of DIVINITY is mere facade.

Later on, my 4th sister, her husband, my brother and me were speaking about politics and speculation of the date of the 13th GE and why it would be the fiercest and filthiest general election in the history of Malaysia. It has a real chance to get bloody because Najib has openly and emphatically declared that BN would defend Putrajaya at any cost. That, in itself heralds ominous events that would rack this nation.

Ambiga, our Iron Lady is now veritably in hiding. She is harassed relentlessly, at home, on the road, in her office, in the airport and basically everywhere she goes. She is cornered at every angle and abused just because the of noble cause she initiated, that is, Bersih (clean) rallies intending to have free and fair elections, each rally, bigger and more resounding than the previous one, she being female and Indian. So much for 1Malaysia.

Our leaders in the current ruling regime generally don't walk their talk. They come up with feel good policies every time the Prime Minister is changed, publicize it on government controlled mass media, then forget about it. Tun Dr Mahathir was the precedent of this trend, his mark being Vision 2020 and somehow, his successors saw the need to follow his exemplary through. Instead of making sure the policy succeeded its way into completion, Malaysian prime ministers make policies to make a brand of their tenureship, to make it distinct and outstanding, unwilling to pick up where their former boss left off. What the hell la?

Then our topic digressed into the mentality of Malaysians of Indian ethnicity when voting. While the educated, professional, sentient people would not vote for BN no matter how the ruling regime trumpets of promises being fulfilled, many Indians will fall for the goodies galore masterminded shrewdly by Najib to win the hearts and the votes of low income and poor Indians, my brother-in-law was lamenting.

As quickly the crowd came and gathered, the quicker they left, leaving our house upside down, not that we are complaining.

This year Diwali was hectic yet fulfilling for me. I am not sure whether I triumphed over evil, but hey, we all have our own angel and devil like how Disney cartoon characters like Donald Duck, Pluto and Mickey Mouse are shown to have in cloudy pop ups. You know, their negative and positive conscience. Growing up, I loved the concept rather than theology because it is simple and oh so relevant. You become evil or angelic depending on which one you feed and heed to, the Devil in you or the God in you and it is a lifelong battle which I believe no one has won yet.

So, Diwali, see you next year!!