I don't understand why non-vegetarian people have to ask vegetarian people in a restaurant whether the latter is okay if they order meat. As a vegetarian, I am not asking your permission to abstain from meat, am I? I think courtesy must be extended both ways or else, preferably, neither. Get what you want. It stays on the table It does not get on the plate. Simple. Otherwise, I suppose, if you have never eaten meat, you may be squeamish about seeing meat or flesh and bones on the table. In which case, perhaps, not choosing a non-vegetarian restaurant may be optimal. No point in going to a place that serves meat but then people can't order it because you don't like it. Of course, if one is the kind of non-vegetarian that likes boneless stuff and only filets and all, it's really time to consider vegetarianism. If you can't handle bones, you aren't enjoying the meat anyway. (I did have caveperson tendencies when I ate meat.)
Yesterday I stayed the night at a friend's house. It was really good. We stayed up the night talking. We'd gone for dinner to this place called 'Asia Kitchen' in Oberoi Mall where I ate a plate of barbecued mushrooms bao and had a watermelon crush. The baos were nice and soft and the mushrooms were cooked really well - if a tad sweet. But they aren't as good as Fatty Bao. I love that place. I have eaten there twice and the baos are just so tasty! It's expensive. But then, so was Asia Kitchen.
Anyway, what I wanted to write here - and I intend that as I write this, I release it for good-is a story that I shared with my friend.
I am very scared of rape. Everyone is. But I am scared of that kind of violation not just from certain men but also certain women. I remember, when I was in Bangalore, I had gone to a lady's house. We were casual acquaintances and she had told me to come over to her place for dinner. We would discuss some potential work also. She had a gorgeous apartment - one that overlooked a lush, green garden. I admired the flat but I started feeling slightly nauseous. She gave me some water. I had that and then I got up to put the glass in the kitchen. Her hand brushed mine and she took the glass from my hand. I felt a very weird kind of burn and I panicked really hard. I just felt like there was no escape and she suddenly started looking menacing.
She is a very nice lady and I can honestly say that she did nothing untoward but I don't know why I felt that way. Women have propositioned me in the past (not that this lady was. I am not sure if she is so inclined). I have declined politely and things have been good. But, sometimes, that fear just raises its head in very strange times and in strange ways.
Anyway, what I wanted to write about was a certain dream that I would have before my marriage. It had affected me so deeply that I had almost called off my marriage on account of it. The man I was marrying lived in Delhi. An I was, overall, very kicked about starting a life in Delhi. So my days were mostly spent researching weekend outings, museums, restaurants, and getaways, etc. - along with the other stuff of figuring out how to best build a sweet cosy life with someone you love. My nights, however, were a different story. I used to have this dream:
I am running on a lonely road. I'm wearing a dress and I'm running on one of the roads that lead to Ashoka hotel. I am being followed by a group of boys in a van. It's a Maruti van, I think. I don't remember what I am wearing. I rush into the hotel and run into the bathroom. It's empty. I get inside one of the loos and lock it. I hear the men outside. They are creating a ruckus and shouting. I am scared. Then there is silence. I wait for a good ten minutes. I have held my breath for maybe that long. I feel nauseous. I listen even more intently. I don't hear anything.
I open the door and one of the men in the group is still inside.
He rapes me.
I remember feeling the pain and fear. I remember, also, the colour of his eyes. They were sand brown. But that is not the scary part of the dream that stayed with me.
Somewhere in the course of the rape, I realize that I am not the girl.
I am the man.
That is when I would wake up from the dream with a fear that I have not known since.
I have written this out now. I feel sick. Will go now. Maybe come back later.
Yesterday I stayed the night at a friend's house. It was really good. We stayed up the night talking. We'd gone for dinner to this place called 'Asia Kitchen' in Oberoi Mall where I ate a plate of barbecued mushrooms bao and had a watermelon crush. The baos were nice and soft and the mushrooms were cooked really well - if a tad sweet. But they aren't as good as Fatty Bao. I love that place. I have eaten there twice and the baos are just so tasty! It's expensive. But then, so was Asia Kitchen.
Anyway, what I wanted to write here - and I intend that as I write this, I release it for good-is a story that I shared with my friend.
I am very scared of rape. Everyone is. But I am scared of that kind of violation not just from certain men but also certain women. I remember, when I was in Bangalore, I had gone to a lady's house. We were casual acquaintances and she had told me to come over to her place for dinner. We would discuss some potential work also. She had a gorgeous apartment - one that overlooked a lush, green garden. I admired the flat but I started feeling slightly nauseous. She gave me some water. I had that and then I got up to put the glass in the kitchen. Her hand brushed mine and she took the glass from my hand. I felt a very weird kind of burn and I panicked really hard. I just felt like there was no escape and she suddenly started looking menacing.
She is a very nice lady and I can honestly say that she did nothing untoward but I don't know why I felt that way. Women have propositioned me in the past (not that this lady was. I am not sure if she is so inclined). I have declined politely and things have been good. But, sometimes, that fear just raises its head in very strange times and in strange ways.
Anyway, what I wanted to write about was a certain dream that I would have before my marriage. It had affected me so deeply that I had almost called off my marriage on account of it. The man I was marrying lived in Delhi. An I was, overall, very kicked about starting a life in Delhi. So my days were mostly spent researching weekend outings, museums, restaurants, and getaways, etc. - along with the other stuff of figuring out how to best build a sweet cosy life with someone you love. My nights, however, were a different story. I used to have this dream:
I am running on a lonely road. I'm wearing a dress and I'm running on one of the roads that lead to Ashoka hotel. I am being followed by a group of boys in a van. It's a Maruti van, I think. I don't remember what I am wearing. I rush into the hotel and run into the bathroom. It's empty. I get inside one of the loos and lock it. I hear the men outside. They are creating a ruckus and shouting. I am scared. Then there is silence. I wait for a good ten minutes. I have held my breath for maybe that long. I feel nauseous. I listen even more intently. I don't hear anything.
I open the door and one of the men in the group is still inside.
He rapes me.
I remember feeling the pain and fear. I remember, also, the colour of his eyes. They were sand brown. But that is not the scary part of the dream that stayed with me.
Somewhere in the course of the rape, I realize that I am not the girl.
I am the man.
That is when I would wake up from the dream with a fear that I have not known since.
I have written this out now. I feel sick. Will go now. Maybe come back later.
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