I, Stereotype

I stereotype.

Not my fault though. No, I'm serious. You're judging me yaar,  I can see your eyes widening, the veins on your forehead getting thicker. Shit, he's racist slash sexist too, or maybe one of those fking a.holes whose favorite words are sluts and whores you're thinking. I try not to be, saachi, and i compensate for what might be unconscious bias, but let me tell you my part of the story, and we'll talk k. You have really big eyes yaar. So just for a moment-- only a moment-- listen to my story k.

You wake up this fine morning, and the morning is fine, the sun is nice, and you get a good breakfast, hoping the day is going to be fine, and why not, it's a fine little world we live in, with pretty women and all, and it being summer those girls are in flowery dresses, and you think of humanity much better than you would on a rainy day when you just want to bitchfight that bro whose 4x4 splashed water all over your fancy new dress you are wearing for the first time because you know, you don't get to wear that kind of clothes in college a lot, so you might as well make full use of such chances when you get them.

This fine morning, you go to the class and meet the girl who has been discussed once in a public forum-- remember that time you may or may not remember you went to your friend's room when her  friend from other college was around too and when you may or may not have cried, but you most certainly did tell them about this girl from this particular class who you think is particularly attractive, and even more importantly, it's not that you like her only because she's pretty but also because you like her as a person, and then the friend asks you if you've ever talked to her and you admit that you don't even know her name, so you start making plans to somehow get to know her, and maybe knowing her name would be a good start, you start making crazy elaborate plans to extract her name somehow, because broduude, it would be so creepy and crazy if you actually asked her name, no? Yes, it would be, so shut the hell up, and go back to making really elaborate plans, you tell yourself, and that is what happens.

The plan is put into action. It works. You're happy. You have finally extracted the information you want. Well done!

And then the realization hits you. The name, brothers, sisters and all the attractive and/or smart women reading this, the name.

Names are interesting creatures, if you'll allow me some drama. If you called Rose something else, said the old bald guy who may or may not have written that,  it would totally not smell any less beautiful. Unfortunately, even though you may never admit it to Rose, it probably would. Or more. Definitely not the same though

Names should ideally not evoke emotions. You should not judge a person's character on the fact his parents named herim xxx. But I'm not yet smart enough to realize that. It's unfortunate for me and for the world. Sentilife.

I judged. Hard. I judged the parents, I judged the grandparents, I judged the friends of the parents who might possibly have had a hand in recommending the name for friends' child, the child services officers who let this atrocity happen, the government, which allows parents to commit such appalling acts, and I judged her name.

And then suddenly, the veil of ignorance lifted and I became an enlightened entity.