Love me, or hate me. Don't be indifferent

The title is a reference to what my friend said to me a long time ago. According to him, he hopes
 that people either love him or hate him. Being indifferent to him means you don't care about him
anymore.When I was deciding the title for this blog, initially I was mulling over the title of
Nirbhaya: A Tale of indifference. But I decided to not go with that title, because I thought I
should accord her a little more respect.

When I heard of the news the girl had been raped, and her subsequent tragic demise, I, as well as
other armchair commentators of course posted their outrage. We vented about india's patriarchy,
about the need to liberate women and all of the standard talking points you have heard affluent
Indians and westerners spout. You have heard it in the news cycles, you have heard it from the
mouths of politicians from whom we have heard so many lies and yet we vote them to power.
We heard it from the NGO's, the Women's group advocates. We were outraged that this
poor girl was raped and her male friend beaten up. For more than a month we vicariously
lived through her parents. Witnessed their trials and tribulations. For that time, the nation
grieved as if they had lost a sister.


But I think we all know where this story is going to end. In this era of attention deficit syndrome.
In the era of 6 month  music sensations, the era of 24\7 news cycles, this story will slowly but
surely will be pushed to the sidelines. it will be buried under a story of new found scams,
Narendra Modi being the Messiah of the oppressed Hindu masses and even more horrifying
stories of women getting raped. I will move on too. To even more mindless TV shows, playing
video games and watching cute puppies on you tube. Each one of us will move on. Except her
parents. They will live on in grief, knowing that they cannot ever see their intelligent daughter
who had toiled so hard to build a future for her and her family. Her brothers will miss a
sister, a role model whom they could have lived up to and emulated. A sister they would
have been proud of. The whole nation will move on. sure her name will crop up every time
a brutal sexual assault will come up, but life marches on.


I do not wish to end on a cynical note. I do however, see little changes in the behavior of
Indians. Statements made by politicians and so called god men insinuating the girl was as
much to blame for the rape as her attacker has been torn to shreds. For the first time, I have
seen the media do an introspection. Most importantly, I can see some Indians had to do some
soul searching and I salute those people willing to protest. Because despite my opinionated
 nature you did something I could never do, actually do something about it.

Gori! Gori! Gori!

Just Another quick blog post before I disappear for a while.



Now, I love my mother, I really do. Well I would come across like a bit of an ingrate if I did
not lovethe woman that labored under immense pain to give birth to a gremlin like me. But
 like every other person, she has her own faults. She is to put it bluntly, a bit of a racist. I can
 recall having many conversations with her, which ended up with her warning how lecherous
 white girls are and how she would tell me in a matter of fact way, that they are gold diggers. I
 think my mother was brought to this world with her irony meter broken. She would often
 complain about the racism meted out to her in New Zealand, while pushing these awful stereotypes
 about white people. I know why stereotypes are formed, it is easy to generalize, But it is generally
 a good idea to not hold much water in them.


In my humble opinion, encumbering a certain ethnicity with your own prejudices is never a good
I remember a two years ago, being enamored with a certain Punjabi girl. When I asked her out,
she replied to me that she doesn't like mallu guys so wouldn't do so. Three months ago, I asked
out a certain acquaintance of mine, who was white, to go out to lunch with me. She looked at me
with her pretty blue eyes, and with a smile I thought at the time was really gorgeous that she wants
us just to be friends. Even though my heart sank, she comforted me by saying how girls would be
lucky to go out with me.


You cannot help who you fall in love with, you really can't. I find it a bit unfortunate that people
still hold onto these prejudices. For me, I do not care for a girl's ethnicity. The only thing I
need to know if she is compatible with me and loves me.

A Lonely Traveler

If life was analogous to a journey, then I am indeed a lonely traveler. I have a confession to make
that is rather embarrassing. I have never found love in my life. I have fallen in love, yes. But I have
 neverhad my feelings reciprocated. I have made overtures to exquisite specimens of the opposite
 gender in a gentlemanly manner, but I have not succeeded. When I look at my inability to attract
 girls, I think it reveals something about myself. Something of my character.



For the longest time, I would blame this deficiency on me. I would find the excuse that I am simply
 not good looking enough, or that I simply lack personality. But recently I have come to realize one
thing. The excuses that I make up to explain away my romantic failings indicate one thing. A lack
of self-confidence on my part. Since I lacked confidence, I have already lost in some ways.
When I approached those girls to ask them out, I did not exude that aura of confidence.
 It is essentially the story of my life. I lacked the confidence to jump at opportunities that
 life threw at me. When I was bullied in high school, I lacked the confidence to tell my bully
 to back off. In my university career, I lacked the confidence to partake in various extra-curricular
activities.


But still my heart craves for love. It is funny, in my teenage years, I would indulge myself in various
sexual  fantasies. But now, I often dream of holding a girl in my arms. I feel sort of empty. I have this
 need of someone wanting me in their life and me wanting them.

As I tread this beaten path alone, maybe I will find a companion.

Introduction

 Now, you might be wondering why exactly did I choose this title? Well, there are several
moments in my life that I would like to rub out, like many of us like to do. You know, sort of like an
etch a sketch.

Now let me introduce myself. My name is Anil Nair. and I am 23 years old. I immigrated to
New Zealand in 2004, from Kerala to India. So the ninth anniversary of my migration is coming up in 4 months. Even though I have been to India only a few times since then, I do have a certain affinity
with my homeland and we shall see what the future holds for me in this regard.

There is a reason I have created this blog. It is a place for me to pour my heart out and maintain a
relative cloak of anonymity. You see IRL I am a social hermit. I am afforded few chances out in the
social sphere. So I consider myself to be the internet version of Socrates. Without the intelligence,
without the charisma, and without the class. I feel like the internet is a place where I can indulge
myself in another character, in another persona that I would not have the self confidence to do.

The blog of course needs a lot of work. And I will continue to improve it. But I am notoriously lazy.

So welcome readers, to my private world. To my thoughts, to my dreams. A realm of craziness.