Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Welcome to Dreamland!

Why is sweet not smelling sweet? Why is it cloying the senses? Why does it make me want to cover my nose, in fact every pore of my body, so that the bad smelling sweetness does not enter me? But this is how it is every day. Every single day. As I walk down the street from work, cross the intersection, walk down another street and then get on to the main road. That sweetness follows me everywhere. And it stays with me when I am back home. It lingers on when I am trying to catch the truant sleep. It flows into my dreams, permeating into every second of it. Where does it come from then, you would ask me. It comes from the women’s bodies. I asked one day, why do they make themselves smell so sweet? Is it to hide the other odours? Is it to hide the smell that emanates from their exploited bodies and minds and souls, a smell which haunts them all day, all night even? There they stand on the street. In a line. Dressed up like mannequins. Human mannequins. Bright red gashes for mouths, mascaraed eye lashes, pinked up faces, sequined gowns (for God’s sake). Women just like me. But not ordinary like me. No way.

And what happens to the air after dusk settles in. After the sun decides that he’s had enough and he spews liquid fire, burning the horizon. (Have you ever seen the sunset when the sky’s on fire…??? This is a song by Kenny Rogers called Evening Star). Where was I? Yes…when dusk settles in, something in the air suddenly changes. You can feel it. You walk down that street in the morning then do the same in the evening. And the metamorphosis will startle you. The most insensitive of senses would sense it. There is a crowd all around you, its rush hour, but strangely no one’s ever in a hurry over here.  The crowd moves slowly, it’s a rhythm that’s almost hypnotic. Moving slowly, biding their time. Time. Can you believe it? They are not rushing and pushing each other. Time is actually on their side out here. Is this Bombay or is it a parallel space chunked out from the body of the city and placed aside? A place which we would shy from. A place that has a place of its own, cut off from everything and everyone, yet very much a part of everything and everyone. Very much a part of what everyone finds dirty, taboo, disgusting, cheap, horrendous, frightening, diseased…

“Welcome to Dreamland,” says the cabbie to a firang looking person. 

10 comments:

T-REX said...

The sheer brilliance of the prose is amazing. The wasting away of dreamland saddenigly conveyed.

Preeti said...

Thank you.

:-)

Still thinking said...

And she's back!

Have I told you before that I respect you so much for the work you do? If I have, then I'll tell you again, you're one helluva selfless person!

TC and be kind to yourself :)

Preeti said...

thanks...

:-)

i dont deserve any credit for the work though...there's still lots to do...

the person who's most unkind to Preeti is Preeti...so :-)

PS: i thank you with all my heart for everything. adorable lady!!!

shnkrnryn said...

yeah about women smelling sweet i think i have discovered the special male odour it smells great too
(hint it comes from not taking a bath)

and yeah so i diverted the whole idea of this post but thats me :0

ki said...

Wow. You paint some word pictures! *awed silence*

Stupidosaur said...

Tried tasting perfume? Its not at all sweet. (Don'try this at home! It may kill you ! ;) )

Tried opening and smelling a jar of sugar? There's no sweet smell!

So now you know the scientific, if not philosophical answer to your question

//Why is sweet not smelling sweet?

Yeah yeah. I did read rest of the post ;).

And this is what I got to say

//It comes from the women’s bodies. I asked one day, why do they make themselves smell so sweet? Is it to hide the other odours? Is it to hide the smell that emanates from their exploited bodies and minds and souls, a smell which haunts them all day, all night even? There they stand on the street. In a line. Dressed up like mannequins. Human mannequins. Bright red gashes for mouths, mascaraed eye lashes, pinked up faces, sequined gowns (for God’s sake).

erm its all very well to act all melodramatic woe-be-ours way. Sometimes its true and mostly very entertaining, but I think, women are much more their own person than that. They themselves do like to look and smell perky you know! And its not like they are part of the world you describe next :P
(Damn I am being feminist to a female here?)


BTW I do agree about the sense you conveyed by 'gashes' of all colurs including red. I mean really! What guy would like to kiss a lump of disgusting chemicals! Beats me totally!

Preeti said...

Hi Ki,

Thanks.

:-)

Preeti said...

Hi STU...

I work for an NGO called Prerana. Just google it once and it will clear everything...

:-)

Preeti said...

SHANKY...

no sweetheart, you havent...
oh yes...you bloody have...you piece of shit....

PS: is MPD infectious!!!