The World Might Seem Round, Beware It's A Trap!

It actually is just a box filled with hypocrisy and injustice...and the lock is fitted shut with no way of getting out!

As we transition through various phases in our life, jump through every obstacle of fire thrown our way and howl at the sight of a full moon…decisions pass us by that influence our future to the maximum. These decisions might seem as though they are being forced upon us by some external force…BEWARE ITS TRUE! Our day to day decisions as young adults are so tightly knitted to this orthodox thinking of what is assumed to be right and wrong, that even though we think we are the kings of our minds and thoughts…we really aren’t!

Some of you reading this might be confused as to what I am talking about. Some of you might also be confused as to what bullshit I have mentioned above. Well to clarify, I am talking about the idiocy and hypocrisy that exists in our society accompanied by irrationality, illogical thinking and the narrow-minded thinking that plays a role in the everyday drama that is LIFE.  We as individuals, from our adolescent ages, are always guided to follow the righteous and creative path. But as those tiny toddlers mature into young adults the system of guidance seems to take a U-turn for the contradictory. Told what to do, what to wear, how to talk, what time to stay out till, how the dark is bad for us and sometimes even what to think and believe. No matter how modern and forward the world progresses, human beings will always (at a majority level) stay the same. No changes in their orthodox and traditional ways seem to occur. No one says tradition is something bad, but forcing it down someone’s throat and threatening individuals who don’t follow it…now that’s something to worry about. Everyone agrees that there is a code of morality hidden somewhere in the world, but whoever said it was found? Morality, if differs from society to society, isn’t known as morality but instead is known as MADE UP UTTER HORSE SHIT!

Our constitutions promise to give rights such as freedom of speech, thought and press to every citizenly fool. Yet when these rights and legalities are used as arguments in cases with real potential for justice, our  own legal system and society that once supported these  rights just turn their heads away and act like Gandhiji’s three monkeys. We aren’t allowed to even opinionate our points in our heads let alone out loud, but those imbecils who run our countries are allowed to corrupt it publicly without any objection? A girl getting raped by a minister’s son, a woman or man being stoned to death for merely favouring monogamy or a child being beaten to death by his/her parents for no mere reason; where’s the objection in these cases? Why is it that what really matters to our society is ignored and what is irrelevant and unfair promoted? And here are a bunch of imbeciles arguing with me on how I should just shut my mouth up and stop questioning our legal system as they know what’s right. Need I remind everyone that social gatherings and page three parties are not getting us anywhere in the field of progression but rather the ignorance being portrayed is taking us many steps back. I HAVE A RIGHT TO SPEAK, AND SO DO YOU…BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO CONTROL ME AND SHUT ME UP!

The Unhygienic Hustle & Bustle of Bhatiyaar Gali

As we grow from innocent toddlers to obnoxious teenagers to overrated adults, we take every bit of taste, smell,and sight the polluted streets of India have to offer us. Yet we don't  exactly experience the true filth of sight, us being the elite and pampered that is. For us dirt is a mere speck of cow poo left on the street to dry up, or the spit stains of tobacco chewers, or even the crumpled pieces of paper and plastic miles away from the trashcan. The real and absolutely disgusting filth lies in those streets where crowed housing and smoke filled basements come to life. Yes, I am talking about those fast paced parts of our town that aren't considered as metropolitan as probably the lavish urban areas we, the elite, live in. One example of this populated area is Bhatiyaar Gali, Ahmadabad.

Not many young, modern people have the oh-so-authentic pleasure of visiting this place in today's time. But I had the undeniably gruesome experience of visiting this street of smokey, shady food stalls-where oddly only men hang out to grab a bite of some blood red colour marinated tandoori chicken, brain dipped in a questionably brown coloured gravy and shrimp the size of rat poop covered in some pink gooey substance. Mind you that apparently all these dishes come with thinner than air chapattis and are considered to be so "tasty" that "even your little taste buds located on your tongue start dancing the samba in your mouth". Obviously i was not aware of where i was headed to dine, being manipulated by my parents and their friends into spending time with them before I embark living a life out of their house; when I drove up to the street and saw the name of the '5 star' restaurant on a cheaply maintained banner...I knew that the night would be filled with shocking discoveries (and trust me discover did I).

The first step i took out of my clean car and into the male dominated eating joint, i stepped on some icky gunky glob of dirt...the first event leading up to my hunger strike that night: looking back at what you stepped on!!! Somehow I managed to get past that situation without barfing and walked (very cautiously as to not ruin my expensive new shoes) towards our reserved tables. Greeting our friends with a warm and plastered smile, i took my seat after being warned that there was a stray kitty-cat under my seat. Jumping at the sound of a stray, probably rabid, animal residing under my derriere and right in contact of my dangling legs...I was hushed as a spoiled brat and was asked to custom and adjust myself to the very natural surroundings. Yes I have been brought up with delicate care yet never spoiled as to feel as normal a citizen possible outside the elite class, but this was just a little out of my preference. Not that  i judge people for eating in these unhygienic atmospheres...I just find it curious.

Soon i was sitting in my own private spot, like Sheldon Cooper. The perfect spot where no one or nothing could touch me and there definitely wasn't any draft coming on my neck. My parents and their friends seemed to be enjoying themselves; although I don't know how anyone could have had "fun" in that disgusting, smelly place. Then came the plate of oddly coloured tandoori chicken with even more oddly coloured onions. The plates seemed to be unwashed from the last time they were used and they had brown gross stains on the sides. This sight made me throw up in my mouth,  but due to my lady like etiquette, I obviously swallowed it all back. Refusing to eat that and all the other dirty dishes  that appeared on my table; satisfying my hunger was the last thing on my mind. All I wanted was to be untouched and to get out of that disgusting place as soon as possible. Then came the worst view possible from the dinner table, THE DUMPING ROOM OF THE STALL. This was the place where the stall waiters dumped all the leftovers, leaving them for the stray animals to devour. The odour and sight of this grotesque area in the restaurant was the last draw (at least I thought it was the last draw) for me to just dash out of there and sit in my car waiting for my parents to finish their meal. But soon I was visited by the horror of fungus, bacteria and black gunk oozing out of the restaurant sink, used to wash hands. That was all i needed to ram my self out of that hell hole and drive off into town. Town, a place which I resided in and thought was dirty up until I was visited by the horrors of that night's expedition to Bhatiyaar Gali. All I knew now was that where I resided was paradise! Therefore I decided, I never once would complain about the place I lived in. 

All the ride back home, i was constantly nagged about my low tolerance for dirt and imperfection by  my parents and uncle. But little did they know that it wasn't my OCD that caused a damper in the evening's plans...it was my parents' hippie attitude to embrace nature's natural gift of dirt that ruined my appetite for street food. And if you're wondering, this isn't a diary of an OCD patient; it is the factorial death of my hunger...for days to come.