Tied me down?

In this day and age, would feminists find Rakshabandhan relevant anymore? Increasingly, we see ladies becoming the alpha and highly testosterone-charged beings. If domestic abuse victims were assumed to be fairer sex, think again.

Imagine telling a modern 21st-century lady that she needs a male guardian to protect her from the vulgarises of society. Someone with a cape to rise to the occasion to shield her to save her life and chastity. It may have been relevant when society comprised males with unabated raging hormones on steroids. With civilisation, these toxic behaviours had been identified and put a lid on.

Women empowerment efforts, education and job opportunities have sprung open for them to clinch their list positions in society. The male community members have been conditioned to respect women, tolerating smug and passive-aggressive manipulations. Many men have suffered in silence in the name of peace of mind and wanting to maintain sanity.

Don’t get me wrong. The world is still not a safe space. There are plenty of discriminations and injustices happening under our very noses.

Rakshabandhan allows feuding siblings to mend their fences. Sure, the ceremony with all bright colours and public display of sibling affection is Instagram-worthy. Siblings, being siblings, are sure to get entwined in occasion skirmishes. The ceremony, done out of compulsion or otherwise, gives time to reflect the strong co-dependent bond knotted by the Universe and cemented covalently by DNA. These bonds are man-made and decided by the Universe and happen randomly at a cosmic level. It is also an opportune time to hook up and boost old relationships.

On a lighter note, it may also give an avenue, a secret weapon for young girls to tell off their stalkers, “Buzz off!” Hold them down, tie the Rakshabandhan brotherly wristband, Rakhi, and douse down any burning desire for possible romantic liaisons!

The flavour of the times.
Bhumi Matta (Mother Earth) trying rakhi to Chanda Mama (Uncle Moon)

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

The joke that didn't land?

It has nothing to do with mocking the duly departed. No doubt we do not poke fun at the dead. Jocelyn Chia did not ridicule the victims who perished in MH370. She sneered at the country's citizens whose image bearer in the sky went down without a trace of existence. In the same skeet, she peeled bare the impotence of the government, which had lost in the global fight to stay prominent. Whilst the rest of the world is busy improving the saleability of its country and drawing in foreign funds, besides improving human capital and intelligence, Malaysia's leaders are content in drumming the past century's tune of race and religion. The leaders make their gullible subjects feel special when they are merely donning the Emperor's new clothes.

So when Jocelyn haughtily flaunted Singapore's first-world status after being jilted from an intimate relationship, during which the Prime Minister had cried about an uncertain future, she knew her country had done well. Speaking from a standup comedy stage in New York, embraced by the biggest economy in the world, she knows she has bragging rights. After all, the caustic world of standup comedy allows her so, burns, vulgarity, warts and all.

So the high offices of her former country have apologised. Of course, they did. They need the goodwill of their neighbour to oil the nation's machinery and food supply. More than half of the country's think tanks have roots in Malaysia anyway.

If Jocelyn Chia had mocked the falling of the Twin Towers or Pearl Harbour, the US would flip. So the IGP making an Interpol report to locate her will be about to nought. The US is not bothered about hurting the sentiments of a despotic third-world nation. It has to be seen as the purveyor of what it preaches, free speech, freedom of expression and pursuit of happiness.

It is all about playing the victimhood. It has nothing to do with sneering at something of a taboo subject. The recalcitrant son who cut off his umbilical connexion had all reasons to fail and had paradoxically proved his father wrong. Instead of crawling home all scrawny and embarrassed, poor and hungry, the rebel became more prosperous. The old folks, set in their ways, only spiralled down the path of self-aggrandisement. Excited over minor achievements, they praised themselves for newer, trivial, insignificant achievements. As if rubbing salt into an open wound, the Malaysian ringgit hits an all-time low against the Singapore dollar.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

Unresolved sibling rivalry?

Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962)

They use to say that blood is thicker than water. Logically, Nature would not want its own kind to destroyed. The selfish gene must surely want its continuity of species. The last thing that it would wish for is for hosts carrying somewhat similar genetic materials going for each other's jugular. 

In life, however, sibling rivalry is genuine.  Tales of the vengeful Cain over his younger brother, Abel, is one which had been in the annals of mankind as long as Man can remember (being Adam's offspring). Siblings, fighting for recognition over the other and yearning for requited love from their elders, have plunged them into the abyss of darkness to prove their point, sometimes unsuccessfully, with disastrous outcomes. Many victims of depression and adjustment disorders have blamed the stress of growing up with a high achieving person as possibly the prime cause of their malady.

In the Hollywood circle, primadonnas Betty Davis and Joan Crawford were notorious for running each other down; each trying to outdo the other. What better way to capture this animosity than through a movie about a feud between two sisters with showbiz thrown in for good measure? 

In this 1962 psychological drama, Davis and Crawford are paired as Hudson sisters, Jane and Blanche. Their hatred towards each other goes as far back as 1917 when Jane was an acclaimed child vaudeville star, and her sister was the plain Blanche. Jane got all the attention whilst Blanche was the one who seems to give in. Their roles reversed as they got into adulthood when Blanche became a famous movie star and Jane had lost her spark. After a mysterious motor vehicle accident, Blanche became paralysed from her waist down. Hence, ended their movie careers. In the present (1962), they led quiet lives with Jane caring for her Blanche and Blanche confined to the upstairs.

Reminds you of Kim Carnes' 80s hit 

'Betty Davis' Eyes', does it not?

Jane is somewhat drinking too heavily and is mentally disturbed by her indulgence. Jane, still sore about her sister's previous success and her own loss of youth, that she has decided to put her bitterness on her sister.  The strain of losing the limelight and people's recognition of Blanche as the star, rather than herself, added the pressure to already unstable emotions.

If the movie were indeed a showdown between these two doyens of the silver screen, Davis, being given a meatier role as the antagonist wins with hands down. Crawford, despite her excellent depiction of a paraplegic, had a somewhat subdued role to showcase her acting.

I could not help but compare this movie to the 1950 hit 'Sunset Boulevard' that also told the story of over-the-hill actress and her denial that her showtime is over. Herein must lie the problem, failure to accept that their time to take the bow is due! 

https://asok22.wixsite.com/real-lesson 

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.