Category Archives: Digital Dil

No, I Do Not Want To Take Your Dating App Virginity

Why would I? I’m a woman. Nothing about virginity in any form is appealing to me. Virginity is only attractive to someone who knows/has/is very little and fears anyone with more knowledge/experience than them. I don’t claim to know everything and if I were smart enough to, why would someone with less knowledge be interesting to me? Dating app virgins are just as cringe-worthy, awkward and useless to me as sex virgins. And no, that is not my problem but the fact that they think it should be is THE PROBLEM.

Here’s what a dude who opens with “This is my first time here.” sounds like to me.

  1. You have been bestowed the unwelcome honour of being my tour guide through that complex, frustrating world of digital dating.
  2. You will have to tolerate mommy issues, daddy issues, abandonment issues, ex girlfriend issues, consent issues, casual sexism/racism/homophobia/transphobia issues under the excuse of “I didn’t know!”
  3. You will be blamed for calling these out.
  4. You will not be compensated for your efforts.
  5. You will go into said dude’s lexicon of experiences with weird women when he uses your teachings to trap some other woman.

Cynical, much? Welcome to India where the adult male is still attached to his umbilical cord and in thrall of his fantasy ex’s anatomy. Let’s also shovel in a liberal dose of Reward-Education-That-Cauterizes-Humanitarian-Side-Social-Skills. So get ready for a parade of engineers/CAs/MBAs/doctors/Fancypants jobs/Pedigreed Puppies who think the ability to communicate is a woman’s job and that they deserve an award for allowing you to teach them.

And finally, let’s all join in applauding the entitlement that blinds the male of the species to simple facts. Like what, you ask? Oh, like he’s a techie but has conveniently forgotten that dickpics can be screenshotted and shared. Or that he manages securities but sees nothing wrong in demanding a woman he just met get into a car with him for a ‘long drive’.

Literally what is attractive about a man who hasn’t figured out how to draft a good dating profile yet? Use Google, man. How do you become middle management and not figure out that other human beings aren’t chatbots at your service 24×7? And just how does one get to 35 without the concept of normal, adult conversations? Dating app virginity doesn’t make you New & Fresh; it makes you Outdated & Lazy.

Err, no. I’ll take the smooth-talking, ghosting, committment-phobic fuccbois anyday. At least I don’t have to give them a free primer on how to use their index fingers to swipe left.

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If you liked this post, you’ll want to follow the Facebook Page and the Youtube channel. I’m Ramya Pandyan (a.k.a. Ideasmith) and I’m on Twitter and Instagram.

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The Heads Or Tails Of Digital Dating

I switched dating apps. No, this time it wasn’t because awful people drove me away. It’s because Tinder kept demanding my phone number and wouldn’t let me login without it. I’ve never indulged corporations that think they can hold me to ransom, especially when I have a choice. So my reasons are purely business/ethics based, not personal.

I think there’s something about a newer interface that makes it possible for me to carry in a new approach. It’s like being in a new room so even if the people in it are likely to be no different from the ones in the room you were last in, you can approach them with a fresh outlook. And perhaps people do use the other apps a little differently – a little more effort in building bios, a little less of entitlement in their first messages.

I received the following opening message from one person:

“You were my boss at so-and-so company.”

At first, I couldn’t place him. He was referring to my first time as a manager, where I inherited a large team of rapidly moving people. Then I deducted a decade, added some gawkiness, removed experience-based confidence and tacked on an eager-to-please smile onto his pictures. And there he was. It’s a lovely thing to be able to remember people’s origins and then realise how far they’ve come. Then I remembered that this was on a dating app and it got weird.

I connected with someone else, deciding to meet for a coffee a little later. I suppose I was wondering if it would be like my one 8-hour-look-where-did-the-time-fly date. It wasn’t. For starters, I mistook someone else standing outside the restaurant for this person. Is it just my generation that finds that “Hi, ABC?”, “No, sorry” interaction awkward? The mistaken person didn’t appear ruffled or even judgemental. He just went back to staring at his phone and I briefly debated asking if he’d like to be said person instead. Then I pulled my manners and age together and walked in. It wasn’t a bad conversation, though a tad reserved. It made me think of how much harder this whole thing must be for people who aren’t naturally extroverted or vivacious. We chatted for about an hour after which he had a work thing. And no, that probably wasn’t an excuse to get away since he messaged a few times after that.

There have been a few irritants. I’m rapidly realising that the kind of men who demand ‘interesting conversations, not if u typ lyk dis’ are also the likeliest to be inadequate conversationalists themselves, with the extent of their loquaciousness being “LOL, gimme your number I wanna Whatsapp”. True story. We demand from the world what we do not posses or do not feel like trying for and where is this truer than in how most men treat women?

I am liking that there’s been nary a ripple in my emotional balance from these last couple of months of dating experiences. There is the occasional ‘Sigh, it would be nice to have somebody’ but I get over that pretty quickly. I’m working on the idea that not every relationship will turn into the damaged nightmare I was in last time and it’s taking. But I’m afraid it will stop being fun. I know now that making an effort with dressing up my body and my mind will always help in keeping my life exciting and fun. But I doubt most men (or people for that matter) have the inclination or capacity to do that. And when other people aren’t as committed to a life of joy, it doesn’t take long for your own to sink. This kind of casual dating lets me get away before other people’s lack of alignment with my own way of life sabotages mine.

I saw this thread on Twitter this morning…

…talking about how a lot of people who don’t enjoy dating apps are just choosing to just not date. I guess I’m headed in the same direction.

Eventually I’m realising love, joy, sparkle, romance, chemistry whatchamacallit are matters of complete chance. You can’t predict who, when or what. The laws of probability tell me that there’s some value in maximising my encounters with other people but there’s no real guarantee. Too long of the left-right swipe business and it can really dampen one’s good humour. People manage to find what they want without doing any of these things. And others don’t, even if they’ve done all the maximising they can think of. And I suppose that’s okay.

Heads or Tails, it’s just a coin flip anyway.

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If you liked this post, you’ll want to follow the Facebook Page and the Youtube channel. I’m Ramya Pandyan (a.k.a. Ideasmith) and I’m on Twitter and Instagram.

Arre: My Tinder Bio – Not Here To Mother 20-Somethings

Arre ran one of my stories this week and I’m thrilled. It’s about my experiences as an ‘older’ woman on the dating apps, primarily Tinder. A very young friend told me how nice it was to see older humans not dissing the idea of online dating. I couldn’t stop laughing when I told him that my generation was the one that invented the concept of falling in love online. These were actually lines in my original draft of the article, that got dropped during edits:

“Speaking of dickpics, these didn’t shock me as much as my millennial friends thought they would. After all, the internet is basically my younger sibling (being that I was 16 the year VSNL made internet connection, an ‘it’ accessory). My generation had its first romantic exchange through a glass screen, hallelujah chatrooms! We invented (discovered?) so this was the inevitable future.”

Anyway, I’m really happy with the way my story shaped up. Writers tend to shape our own world view with what we write. And it’s put me into a very good frame of mind to have worked on a piece that is about carrying away experience, not cynicism from life.

Show me some love and read the article, people! It’s up here and it’s called:

My Tinder Bio: Not Here To Mother 20-Somethings

 

 

The Stance Podcast: Ep. 17: SXonomics, Modern Mumbai, A Ballet Collaboration with Zakir Hussain, Playwright Natasha Gordon

 

Last month, SXonomics met the Stance Podcast team. Stance Podcast is an independent arts, culture and current affairs podcast exploring diverse, global perspectives. Presented as a transatlantic conversation between broadcasters, Chrystal Genesis in London and Heta Fell in San Francisco, Stance aims to inform, entertain and inspire action.

We met Chrystal and her team on their Mumbai trip, to talk about collaborative performance, sex and gender activism and Mumbai. We are featured alongside our friend Praful Baweja and the podcast also includes stalwarts like Zakir Hussain.

This podcast helped me recontextualise the ideas I and we have been putting out in writing and in performance, within the global framework of important conversations around sex and art. This is tremendously validating and helps move past the misogynist attacks, the microaggressions and everyday hatred that comes my way.

Listen to SXonomics on the Stance podcast ep.17:

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SXonomics is a feminist content producer and a collaboration between Ramya Pandyan and Ishmeet Nagpal. SXonomics is on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Youtube and SoundCloud. Drop us a note at SXnomics [at] Gmail [dot] com to chat about feminism, patriarchy, LGBTQIA issues, sex and love positivity!

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If you liked this post, you’ll want to follow the Facebook Page and the Youtube channel. I’m Ramya Pandyan (a.k.a. Ideasmith) and I’m on Twitter and Instagram.

 

What Is This Dating Thing And Can I Eat It?

I need to take lessons in dating.

Growing up in 90s middle class India meant that my early years of blossoming romance were spent furtively trying to hide every sign of it. This was not talked about, to friends. Members of the opposite sex who made one’s heart flutter were carefully avoided. It wasn’t that difficult since that was the prescribed social more. Even for me studying in a mixed-sex environment and growing up in a newly developed housing colony full of young families.

It was made further confusing by the Catholic customs of my neighbourhood. Dances and dates and ‘getting friendly to’ were as acceptable as aunties wearing dresses and uncles drinking wine – for them but not for me. I could be friends with ‘them’, visit ‘their’ homes, follow their prayers (Catholic school staple hymns, Hail Marys, grace and in-the-name-of-the-father). I could even eat non-vegetarian food so long as it was kept outside the house. But this cheek-kissing business, let alone the ‘getting friendly to’ stuff was sin.

By the 2000s, I moved into the more Punjabi (read Delhi) dominated part of Mumbai that shapes and is shaped by Bollywood. Short dresses on Hindu girls were suddenly okay but along with these came much more rigid gender roles. North Indian Hindu men have a laughable sense of machismo, or so it seemed to my more easygoing Goan/Mangalorean references. Throw in a few years of Gujarati college with the complicated hypocrisy of together-only-till-its-time-to-marry and yeh college ka aur woh ghar wala attitudes. I’m sure at least some of this mess contributed the confusion that led me to date this seemingly woke person.

I worked the agency life for a good few years and I’ll admit it. I’ve never gotten used to the casual cool of the old agencyhand – booze at work, smoking like chimneys, sometimes things beyond tobacco and the sex. Always the sex. It looked, smelt and was cheap and accessible. But not appealing.

And now all the way down to digitally enhanced, emoji-studded Tinder era romance. Where it’s acceptable to double- or triple- book dates. Where the most embarrassing thing is matching with someone one has unmatched before because meh, so boring. Where it’s supposed to be a hookup app, what are you, a prude? And on the other end, horoscope-matched, family-approved ‘we are so modern and we have the kundlis to prove it’ digitally arranged coupledom.

I don’t know. I still don’t know.

There are things I like about now, that I feel I’ve earned through painful experiences – like who pays for the dates and other such artefacts of ‘chivalry‘. It’s not as fraught with toxic gender roles and horrible awkwardness. Either people have changed or I’ve gotten better at picking dates who align with my thinking.

I’ve learnt to be a decent-ish first date – appearance, body language, stories, manners and even awkwardness carefully steered into comfortable jokes. And, I don’t know if this is good or bad, but I’ve learnt to detect early on in the date whether the other person is going to appeal to me and if not, to go to that secret, quiet place in my head all while appearing fully present, till the end of the date.

But what happens after the first date? Call? Message? Meet again? Friend on Facebook? Invite to a group activity?

Is it appropriate or even wise to have a first date happen at an event where one is likely to know other people? And if not, where and how in this crowded city does one have a first meeting?

The mobile phone poses a tangible problem. I used to think people who kept looking at their phones during meetings, during dates, during meals were rude, uncouth and immature. But most people I meet, including close friends, respected mentors, business acquaintances display this behaviour. I find myself constantly competing with a glass screen. If they’re Tindering or Grindring or the like, I’ve begun calling them out and requesting that they do their cruising on their own time. But what does one do when one has to compete with Facebook or Twitter? How about when one is a digital professional and these could very well qualify as ‘work’? Nobody has heard of work-life balance in this city.

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*Image via geralt|Pixabay

How do people start ‘dating’ anyway? Me, I’ve always slithered (or more accurately, been dragged into) relationships from seemingly innocuous, often coincidental and always casual meetings. ‘Just friends catching up’ is a phrase that has described the better part of my love life. It has been comfortable, this looseness of definition. It has allowed me to swim away from situations where I do not reciprocate without too much backlash from injured male egos. It has also allowed me to save face when the situation is the reverse.

But I’m a bit bored by this. And it occurs to me that maybe my model has outlived its purpose. It worked for the fresh-out-of-90s Marol girl suddenly living the big city life, cautiously stepping into adventure. But the world has changed and so have I. So tell me. How do I learn this dating thing?

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*If you liked this post, you’ll want to follow the Facebook Page. I’m Ramya Pandyan (a.k.a. Ideasmith) and I’m on Twitter and Instagram

The Marriage Certificate LOC

Yesterday evening I got stood up by a friend with the excuse being the spouse. The spouse is also a friend so this means I have been stood up by two people. Whatever was going on between them, they decided it was okay to go back on a word given to me and waste my time. The excuses were in place. But there is a pattern in this particular case. I just got fed up of seeing it, when (as I realised), it had nothing to do with me but still impacted me. I tweeted the following:

I can see a lot of single people nodding their heads at this while the coupled-up types bristle and prepare to call me names. The worst part about this? There are two of them versus one of me. Never mind that they also have the world on their side before I even speak. I am after all, just that annoying unmarried type Who Doesn’t Understand, Her Life Is So Cushy, What Problems Could She Possibly Have?

Last week I had an upsetting argument stemming from the following Facebook post:

“This is for couples who flaunt their love on Facebook, then go suddenly quiet after the break up. You need to tell us exactly what happened. We invested a lot of time, likes and comments on your pictures and posts. We need closure as well.”

I cannot even begin to explain how entitled, how selfish and disrespectful this is. But I’ll try so bear with me if this is basic (it seems to need to be spelt out).

  1. Nobody on Facebook is required to share anything with the others.
  2. No one is required to offer up palatable, perfect stories for other people.
  3. You may be entertained by what people share but they are not required to entertain you.
  4. Facebook allows you to Mute people, if you do not like their posts.

To compare what a couple invests in a relationship, to other people’s likes and comments is a horrible trivialisation of emotion. You may not like how a story ends or you may find yourself mildly irritated when a story you’ve followed on TV gets terminated abruptly. Does that really compare with the relationship ending? And given how devastating a break-up is, is it worthy to make a joke of it?

Image via Ambro on FreeDigitalPhotos.net

*Image via Ambro on FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Earlier this year, I found out from Facebook that a friend died. I do not know what the circumstances were but given that he was young and had posted vacation pictures just a week earlier, it must have been an accident. A week later, his mother put up an update requesting people to stop calling to ask what happened because it forced the family to relive the trauma.

Do we forget that there is a human being at the other end and not a reality TV star performing for our entertainment? Yes, I think we do, on social media. In the latter, I’m sure a lot of you agree that making those demands was insensitive because we all dread and fear death. In the former, what happens to married/coupled-up people? Do they believe that somehow they are immune to the vagaries of emotion? Does marriage/comittment give them iron-clad protection from the devastation of separation? We all know that is not true. Then why, why are they so cruel, so judgemental?

The person I had that argument with, believed that I was shaming their happiness. It’s true that I said a lot of strong things, including comparing their attitude to racism. But neither is the calling out of racism, nor is protesting this joke about shaming another person’s privilege. Yes, that’s right. I said privilege, not happiness. Being in a secure relationship is a privilege. For someone in a position of privilege to make fun of someone who doesn’t have that, in a difficult time like a break-up does not strike me as funny at all. That is why this is no different from racism, for me.

I also understand where this attitude comes from. A lot of married people don’t think relationships and emotions are really ‘serious’ unless they’ve been granted the social-legal sanction of the marriage certificate. Apparently a break-up is trivial, a divorce is not. Domestic violence, abuse, rape, cheating – all of these the price to be paid for ‘having fun’; but they’re crimes if they come with the wedding label.

I know none of the people close to me (everyone referenced in this post is) truly believe this. Each of them has stood by me and shown more empathy than I’ve seen in married people. That’s part of what makes our friendships possible. And yet, just like with sexism and racism, there are worlds of unacknowledged/unthought of assumptions to be challenged. Till then, the marriage certificate is as political a boundary as the Line Of Control and human relationships across the border just as fraught with tension.

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*If you liked this post, you’ll want to follow the Facebook Page. I’m Ramya Pandyan (a.k.a. Ideasmith) and I’m on Twitter and Instagram.

 

Relationship Status: Between Swipe Right & Made In Heaven

Welcome again to the Dating Guide! I feel like it’s time to bring it back. This time perhaps as Dating Thirty-Plus? Or perhaps, The Dating Millenial Part 2? Never mind the nomenclature. It has changed.

I’m dating again after the better part of a decade. Most of these years were wasted in a relationship, engagement and the aftermath of the break-up. A year or two before that was frittered away waiting for the world’s systems (social and technological) to catch up with my (and now, I realise many of my generation’s) needs. Some of the time since the break-up has been spent healing and relearning trust, humour and strength, all essential skills for the single person setting out to find a match.

What do we find here? The dating landscape of the noughties decade is acknowledged today (bravo, bravo India, we finally feel able to admit to it). Human relationships and their creation have gone digital (once again, cheers). We now have a clear picture drawn in line strokes. Black and white.

At one end, we find that matrimonial sites are now acceptable and mainstream. After all, our mums are today’s biggest Skype and Whatsapp users. So it’s possible to find Higher-educated, Attractive, Family loving, Travel-enjoying, Horoscope-matched, Career-aligned, Well-Recommended matches at the tap of a button.

Simultaneously, jostling for screenspace with the aforementioned are services that let you Swipe Right for Hells No, Swipe Up for In Your Dreams, Swipe Down for Sexchat But No Meeting and Swipe Left for Your Place or Mine?

Which side do I pick? Umm, neither. I spent my 20s deeply uncomfortable with the chauvinism of wedding rituals, protesting the patriarchial hold on relationships and being shocked by the gender disparities in the law about these. Marriage? Uh, wait a minute please. I now have names for those niggling worries. I have proof of terrible idea for these outdated social systems. And now justifiably, I’m freaked out by anyone whose life goal is to get married and approachs it with the same one-minded zeal as chasing a professional deadline. So, no thank you ShubhShaadi, TurantVivah, JeevanSaathiya. I think it takes a lot more than a matched horoscope, profile, three templatised messages and one conversation to guarantee a happy marriage. I don’t know what guarantees one to be fair, but these are definitely not enough.

At the other end is the icy-chillness of the space (ironically) named for fire-related paraphrenalia. I don’t get hookups, I don’t want hookups and I’m too old to lose my self-esteem over that. In my opinion, it takes far more effort to have only sex-no strings attached than to try and build a relationship. I’d rather stay home with a good book, my feet dry in this horrible weather and my body clean of all the nasty things that doing the nasty with someone you don’t quite know could acquire.Digital choices

I don’t believe I’m an exception or a misnomer. I am looking for meaningful relationships. Someone I can laugh with and talk about important things with. I want to feel cherished and desired, but not in the flashy, Instagrammable romantic gesture way. I want to care about how someone’s day was rather than critique and optimise their itenerary. I think these are the stuff of life itself and just like life, don’t follow rigid schedules and previously agreed upon boundaries. I want a connection, not the Terms & Conditions document of Tinder nor the 30 year merger plan of Shaadi.

I want to think that this is true of most human beings because how can it not be? This is the driving need of every generation for centuries. I know that there is an entire generation of Indians just like myself. I think perhaps the ones venturing out into the digital space are just louder and even they are probably being cautious. It’s easier to navigate a straight line drawing; much harder to explore the grey that relationship-building is, especially if one has been bruised in the past.

It makes the dating game as tricky as it has always been. When I connect with a person, how do I say please don’t treat me like a piece of meat because I won’t treat you that way but also please don’t think I’m your Manic Pixie Dream Girl answer to all your problems just stop and breathe and give me a chance to be me and you a chance to be you and let’s see if maybe you and I could have a conversation and a walk together and see where that goes?

No, there’s no easy way to say all that. The Tinder types have lost interest at ‘please’ itself (rudeness is considered cool, isn’t it?). The Shaadi sort has lost their hearts because the English is correctly spelt.

Sigh. Patience. Maybe the next decade will be better for the grey zone of those looking for love.

*Images courtesy David Castillo Dominicio and sattva on FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

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*If you liked this post, you’ll want to follow the Facebook Page. I’m Ramya Pandyan (a.k.a. Ideasmith) and I’m on Twitter and Instagram.

 

Why I Returned To Tinder After Being Burnt

Jab Tinder And I First Met

I first got onto Tinder in early 2014, when it was new to India. So little was known about it then that I didn’t even realise its reputation as a hookup app. You see, I’m one of those few people that keeps up to date on what’s cutting edge in India, not what was fashionable last month in Los Angeles or London.

It was a horrendous experience. Two people I met, acted as if sex was an agreed upon deliverable and like I was a defaulting small business owner. Yes, exactly as businesslike as that. They were both MBAs from top universities and their behaviour was the kind we usually attribute to ‘low education, underdeveloped social conditions, poor exposure, regressive social customs’. There was talk about no strings attached sex and open relationships but no notion of consent or respect. These were the two I met.

Then there were the married men. Men I knew to be in committed relationships, but who had no compulsions hitting on me when they saw me on Tinder. There were rabid messages. The guy who asked, “What kind of a woman is on Tinder anyway?” The ‘wanna sex’, ‘send nudes’ messages that are practically memes now but were new to me then. Shaken, I added one line to my bio that I wasn’t looking for hookups. The matches dried up instantly. Then a friend found my profile and demanded to know what ‘use’ I was to the platform if I wasn’t offering up sex. He poured an onslaught of hate messages at me till I blocked him. And then I deleted the app and swore off.

This is the Indian man I’ve encountered and learnt to be wary of.

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*Images courtesy David Castillo Dominicio and sattva on FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

Life Since TinderBurn

I’ve given Tinder a wide berth since then. But I’ve dabbled with some of the other upcoming dating and match apps. Most of them see very little activity. I struggle to connect with the few people I do see there. And it’s frankly depressing to think that men my age are so devoid of looks, language, social skills, hobbies or literally ANYTHING that could hold my interest. The

Then it occurred to me that I was looking in the wrong places. Any kind of matching activity is a game of statistics – the greater the base size, the higher the chance of finding something of interest, if not value.

A recent revelation was that Shaadi.com (and similar matrimonial sites) were no different. I say revelation, because back in the early 2000s, I was on those sites as well, a combination of a ‘marriageble age’ and a very techno-savvy family. I met quite a few people. No one really clicked but we either stayed friends or just moved on in not unpleasant ways. It’s a strange feeling to discover that a space that you were an early entrant into, has turned into a cesspool. Well, I can’t complain, that’s true of Twitter as well.

Getting With The Hookup Generation

Maybe the problem is not Tinder or any one platform. Maybe it is a behavioural trend across our generation. I guess ‘the hookup culture’ is a real thing, not just what decripit old people say about the younger generation. But I don’t think our generation necessarily enjoys it either.

I’m coming to believe that most of us have very simple needs. We all want to find someone that feels comfortable and comforting. We want to be with someone that likes us and who we like too. While many of us are distracted by the glitzy allure of variety, anyone who has actually lived this life will attest to how tiring it is. Human beings are exhausting. Who has the energy to keep drawing boundaries? This is the channel-surfing of relationships and it’s just as unsatisfactory with people as it is with TV programs.

Yet, we do it because we can’t remember how not to. We’ve bought into the belief that somehow this keeps us safe from the (admittedly horrible) danger of heartbreak. When the problem is a generational one, shutting it out means shutting out the whole world.

Strike A Match, Swipe Right

I’ve been hearing slightly better things about Tinder, from both male and female friends. I figured that this where the numbers were going. And Tinder’s mutual match access might be some sort of protective measure. So over two years and much dithering later, I signed up again.

I had forgotten how good Tinder is for a woman’s ego. Everyone I swiped right on, matched with me almost instantly. 😊 Some of them were even Super Like (which in all fairne2016-09-13-17-43-29ss may just mean there are still way fewer women than men here). I also saw more than one man’s profile that categorically stated ‘not looking for hookups’. The cynic in me thinks that’s just a lot of men’s way to get women to swipe right. Even if that’s so, it indicates an acknowledgement of what a woman may want and that’s the start of consent.

And finally, Tinder is the first and only place so far where it’s possible to reject a man. In real life, say NO and men get defensive, nasty and frankly scary. Everywhere else on the internet, displeasing a man (even by saying ‘No thank you’) means a woman can expect a disproportionate amount of hate. But on Tinder it’s as easy as swiping left and hopefully one never has to think about it again because the men don’t know.

Twenty-four hours in, I will say that it feels a lot like Turbo Speed Dating. Swipe left, right, chat up, unmatch, juggle – these require a degree of concentrated energy that I may not be able to sustain for long. But that’s okay. Socialising is high octane energy and I’m fine as long as there’s a protective shield.

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*If you liked this post, you’ll want to follow the Facebook Page. I’m Ramya Pandyan (a.k.a. Ideasmith) and I’m on Twitter and Instagram.

The New Indians: 30-Something Ex-Somethings

There is a new breed of people out there and they are a helluva lot better to be around than the others. They are the 30-something war veterans of relationships. They are divorcees. They’ve lived in without marriage and borne the backlash from family, landlords, friends and service people. They’ve been engaged and sent out wedding invitations only to have to retract and learn to say something no one in their families had to say.

“It’s over. I’m sorry. No, umm, it didn’t work out. No, there’s no wedding. Sorry.”

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Image via Steven Lewis on Unsplash

It used to just be me and one or two of the other local urban legends (“There was something wrong with him always”, “She was always a fightercock”, “He must have cheated”, “She must have had something going on with the neighbor”). Now I’m losing count of the number of people starting to drift into this group.

We are different. Our battle scars don’t just define us. They’ve made it necessary for us to shape lives that have no references. We are the generation of Indians that had limited career choices imposed on us. We are the ones who began speaking English earlier, went abroad earlier, dressed ‘like MTV and Hollywood and don’t you know that is not our culture??’. We celebrated Valentine’s Day and got into political trouble for it. Then we succumbed to arranged marriage or love marriages with twenty thousand rituals borrowed from Bollywood and ageing family matriarchs/patriarchs. We sank or swam in the open sexuality of new media which swept away the prudish touch-only-spouse-and-only-in-private attitudes we had been brought up with.

The compromises we made in our twenties, were supposed to be our prodigal returns from the rebellion of our satellite TV/internet bedecked 90s adolescence. Things were supposed to turn out fine. We were not prepared for dowry disguised as expensive rituals paid for by the girl’s family. We didn’t expect to have to compete with pornography or gaming, for our partners’ attention. We didn’t think we’d need to decide between dual-career-no-marriage or single-career-resentful-marriage. We didn’t forsee that mismatched libidos and opposed political views would enter our kitchens, our bedrooms and our relationships.

And we are dealing with who we are becoming in the dealing of these things. We are so different.

Yesterday I asked out to dinner a woman I had met a couple of times. “Just you and me?” she asked. “Well, why not?” I replied. We talked about mothers who called if it crossed 11PM and we weren’t home. We spoke of bitchy colleagues making our lives miserable when they heard about this. We discussed unsatisfactory exes and what made a woman good in bed and why this should mean we had to do things we didn’t want to. We brought up menstrual cups and younger men and how wonderful it was to have a conversation with someone who used the word ‘schism’ casually and correctly. And then we clinked our Cosmopolitans (what a throwback!) and went home.

Last week I met a man who once wore the tag of ‘boyfriend’ and has always brought along an air of fresh cologne and protective warmth to our friendship. Right now he’s walking around under a cloud of messy divorce and alimony induced gloom. I hugged him. He shrugged and told me,

“I’m looking at it as the price for my freedom.”

I hugged him again. I understood and I know he knew I understood. Only someone who’s been in that war will ever understand all the nuance in his statement. Then we went out to the shops. He helped me pick out a new pair of shoes. I stood with him while he smoked an only-during-bad-times-cigarette. And we enjoyed our meal more than the hundreds we’ve shared in the past decade. Because, who knows what poison might infect his system or mine soon?

Yet another friend has climbed his painful way out of that abyss, quit his corporate job and gone off to chase a longtime dream. Last year I asked him out. He didn’t say yes. He didn’t say no. Now, he may never return from the place he has moved to. But he sends me photographs of his life there. We both know something that people who aren’t like us, do. There is relating and that goes way beyond relationships. It took divorce and abuse and alimony and broken engagements to learn that.

We’ve seen too much to believe that rituals are romantic. We’ve borne too much to pretend that families always know what’s best for us. We’ve been through enough and more that something deeper in us, even the least aggressive of us, has sat up and said, “Enough.” It’s the amiable friend who remarried and didn’t invite anyone because he was done with the tamasha. It’s the ‘good wife’ who shed her burqa for a high-low dress and finally got herself a business card telling the world about the business she had run for six years. It’s the quiet colleague who moved to another city to start a bar and live with two bachelor friends.

This for me is the new India. It didn’t have to live through Independence or Emergency or most of the big wars. But it has had to make its way through outdated social rituals, oppressive familial references and being thrust into a volatile international economy that it was not prepared for. It has been on Shaadi.com as well as Tinder. And guess what, it hasn’t crashed as yet.

There are more of us and we are all around you. You’re related to us. You’re dating us. You’re working with us. You’re falling in love with us. You’re living next door to us and borrowing daal from us. You’re sharing parking space and theatre seats with us. You’re asking us for advice on what to wear, which college to go to and if we’ll give you a reference at your next job. You’re selling to us. We are not the others anymore. Many of us are the ones making pathbreaking choices and while they’re not comfortable, the generation after us looks up to us because we’re displaying the rebellion they’re losing in their twenties.

Divorce is not an evil word anymore. Living in is not a sin punishable by death. Sex is not a bad word. Virginity is not a prize. Men are not freer than women. Women do not make better parents. In-laws are not the same as parents. Big weddings are nothing more than expensive PR campaigns. Older people are just older people, not wiser people. Rituals do not ensure happiness. Intelligent people are not sorted-out people. An IIT or an IIM degree does not guarantee a good spouse or even a good life.

It’s time you revised your myths.

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*If you liked this post, you’ll want to follow the Facebook Page. I’m Ramya Pandyan (a.k.a. Ideasmith) and I’m on Twitter and Instagram.

Why I’m Not Protesting The #IndiasDaughter Ban

I woke up to find Twitter screaming about a new ban. This has been a week of outraging about bans, the last one being the ban on the production & possession of calf, cow and bullock meat, better know as #BeefBan. Today’s outrage was over the Indian government banning the BBC India documentary about the 2012 Nirbhaya rape. Much had been getting made over the fact that it included an interview with Mukesh Singh, one of the rapists.

My first instinct might have been to cry ‘Down with the ban!’ given we’re rapidly becoming a country that bans things for reasons that seem unjust, biased and regressive. But something held me back, possibly a couple of conversations I had earlier this week. So this is what I posted to Facebook this morning. I’ve spent the day defending this stance, trawling through the sewage of male bullying online (#NAMALT, regionalist abuse, patriarchal statements etc). I’ve had heated conversations with people, mostly outside this country whose stance sounds convenient and armchair philosopher style apathetic. I’ve debated with friends and peers within this country who hold other viewpoints. And I’m so worn down by this.

Three hours after I stopped watching the Twitter streams, I still can’t stop the ringing in my ears that says WE FAILED HER. WE FAIL WOMEN. THIS COULD HAVE BEEN ME. THIS COULD BE ME. I’m going to say no more. Here goes –

I don’t think the ‘India’s Daughter’ film should be available for viewing. True, this is censorship and as a writer, I should oppose that.

But this is a country where politicians say women should not be given mobile phones, where godmen decree that eating chowmein leads to rape, where girls who were raped & hung, are accused of enticing the perpetrators. We prove time and again, that we are a culture that hates women with a passion that surpasses all logic and justice.

We are also the same country where hundreds of young men drew lit matchsticks across their tongues, in blind imitation of a fictitious character in a Bollywood movie.

Rape culture & misogyny are deeply embedded in our psyche. I think this documentary will be seen for what it is, by a few who already think that way, so it’s just preaching to the converted. For the rest, I think it will only humanize a monster and glorify his actions. I fear to think of what a world of me-toos will look like.

Can’t you just see the average boy on the road thinking, “Usne to saaf bola, girls deserve this for going out after 9”? I can.

Edit: I found the actual documentary as well as number of excerpts & analysis about it on Youtube. Take a look down the comments there to see how India responds. It’s sickening.

Edit 2: Watched the whole documentary. Utterly sickened. First by reliving the incident and then realising that the entire video is just one long ‪#‎PovertyPorn‬ saga. It doesn’t present any new facts, needlessly highlights tear-jerker sequences around the rapists and offers no real value except repeating the dysfunctional mindset of this country. Watch it if you enjoy real life tragedies being exploited for a privileged audience’s entertainment.

You’ll find plenty of material about why the ban should be lifted. Here’s just one more voice that matches what I had to say and this time, it comes from a man: A Short Rant On The Longest Known Evil.

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