Before we start, I’ll quote one line from Slipknot, “So step inside and see the devil in I.”
That was a warning.
Alright, it has to be one of the weirdest coincidence. I had finished few of the chapters of the novel I’m writing and I gave those drafts to one of my friends to read and give feedback.
And the first question he asked me, “Why do your characters curse so much?”
Because everyone I’ve ever known, everyone I’ve ever met, they all swore more than I use in my writing. I’ve never met a rickshaw puller wearing a three piece Armani suit or a cobbler drinking a scotch in a five-star hotel. I am confused at times. Should I sound? Should I echo? What words will fit the context better?
This is where I drew my line, “Why should I base my characters on lies?” They curse like they breathe air. Not they, we.
Men of always do not care for the children of never. I do not write traditional forms of prose. I write filth because that’s what I’ve known my whole life, an abusive father, a society where it’s OK to throw acid on a girl’s faces, an entertainment industry where the stories are based on the presumption that it’s OK to stalk a girl, where the person who stalks the girl the longest ends up marrying her, where it is glamorous to rape girls. As an afterthought on that particular point, I never knew we were supposed to treat the great men who rape one-year-old girls the way we treat our elders.
You need not answer all the questions. You can just laugh and laugh, pondering what kind of an idiot I’m if I believe these words will ignite some change.
If you believe that a woman is only meant to make chapatis, this post is for you. If you believe that the curves of a woman’s body are only meant to be leached upon, this post is for you. If you believe that independent women are the only thing that is wrong with this world, then this post is for you. This post is for you, my great fellow men. Hail to you, my great kings.
Back to the story at hand, I always feel irritated when people end up feeling disgusted because of swearing, so I did what I generally do in such scenarios, I told him, in my usual sarcastic tone, “How about I make my rickshaw puller wear a three piece Armani suit, would that help with your torn psyche, will that help with your bruised ego?”
“And while we are at it, why don’t I make my cobbler drink a scotch at a five-star hotel, why does he have to drink tea at a dilapidated tea stall situated on the corner of a sewage. Why does he need to work around such filth, garbage everywhere, the smell of sewage overwhelming his senses, continuously cleaning the dirt from the shoes of people like you? You and your ego.”
Alright, maybe I got just a little bit more emotional than I should have.
But thinking on the lines of plot twist, that can sure be a nice twist, huh, a rich man living the life of a cobbler in hiding, I’m pretty sure that’ll be a perfect idea for the next, “New York Times Bestseller.”
I write the way I write because I need to show my disappointments. I knew it. That I don’t know. I don’t know how to get rid of it, other than to write. At times, we pretend to think on one and actually think everything else. I wanted to write a love story, I don’t know when it showed me my true intentions. People say you just have too much anger man. I’m not just angry, I’m pissed. I hate my guts when my wife and sisters go outside alone, I hate the fact that I worry if they are late. I hate my guts for that. I’m tired of being scared.
How am I supposed to write a love story when it will be Ok if bunch of teenagers can rape girls and get away with it? How am I supposed to praise my wife when I continuously have this primal fear in back of my mind? How am I supposed to support her in all her endeavours if I’m always worried about the next headline on leading newspapers?
Once again, you need not answer all the questions. You can just laugh and laugh again.
I won’t let this anger build up inside me anymore. I will write ugly. I’m angry, I’m rude and I do have an attitude. But that is who I am. The day I need your approval, I’ll write about makeup.
Thoughts – they do what we don’t ask for. They show us our true intentions. I’m tired of listening your writing is unconventional, you write too political, your writings are anti-social, they are too controversial, you write angry, you know what (well to keep your ego intact), f**k you.
See I didn’t cursed once, technically.