Disclaimer: Other cultures, please do not take offense. I shall observe harder and write about you too.
Why am I talking about you? Because you’ve left impressions. Some kind, some unkind. Basically, there are three categories. The Retards. The Associates. The Opinionated. And I will take you through them with my eyes. It’s just an observation. You can refute it, accept it or add to it.
A nonchalance that attracts the smart kind. The real shit, beauty with brains. Now let me cave in each of these two words.
The eyes dazzle. They captivate. They express. They conceal. It’s something what Billy Joel had in mind. The body. Slender with some meat on thighs. Well endowed. The hair. Often wavy, straight other times. But always, experimented with. From that elegant side braid to vibrant colours. The step cuts to the fringes. The clothes. Often sporting a simple ganji, her casual style quotient can ease in wherever she goes. An evening event is adorned with a dress, one that makes your jaw drop. And the nail in the head is the Indian attire. A beauty so pure, your heart cannot help skip a beat. The above nuances only hold true because of the following part.
She can hold a conversation. She can supersede the same. With wit and charm at her disposal, and knowledge running in her blood, the impulsive reader and ever inquisitive soul can fascinate you, excite you, and in the process turn you on. Add the eternal earthiness that she exudes, and like the Kanjivaram, she drapes you in her spell. The sex – I guess you get the drift by now.
She’s retarded. And yes, you will go mad.
In two words, this is the ME TOO kind. She associates with the cool people and clings on without invitation. The effort to being effortless is so evident that subtlety walks off from the dictionary. Is she dumb? Definitely not. Is she ugly? Definitely not. Lost between the need to belong and the need to find her own, she floats in a suspended space. “I don’t hang out with girls. They gossip. I’m not like them. I think I just can’t be like them. So, I hang out with boys. They’re cool.” Unfortunately, you’re not. Metal, Old Monk and sex/poop conversations become your thing, because it inherently is what the boys do.
(The Retards on the other hand, who are into the list mentioned above, go the distance and play or sing or at the least don’t come with pre-conditions/pre-set notions)
Unfortunately, the associates can never upgrade. Because when they find their own, they won’t get into the retarded space. They’ll be sorted. And happy. And content. Sigh.
The following words may not go down well with some of you. Read at your own risk. So she has a thing to say. About politics. Life. Traffic. Food. Culture. Language. Books. Issues. Democracy. Blah. Blah. And blah. Sometimes it can be interesting. There is just one weird, weird observation. She does not look good. She doesn’t care about her looks. She will be wearing Indian, will be mostly plump (I’m being nice) and is of the ‘opinion’ that fashion does not warrant an ‘opinion’. I am not pimping fashion here. What I am pointing out is this ignorance to looks. What’s the problem in looking good? Some grooming? You might call me shallow, but looks matter. You can dismiss it by terming it as indifference, but really it is plain ignorance. *Insert joke here* (Ugly people cannot have an opinion. Because they have no face value)
Anyways, to all the retards in my life, a big thank you.