People earn what they deserve...

Recent turn of events has imposed this line of thought upon me in a mannerism I find revolting. 'People earn what they deserve'. No. This statement is evidence of epitome stupidity.

Fighting with people out & out demanding better living conditions does not suffice. Cribbing about the lost virtues of humanity & being a socialist zealot is all seemingly a facade. Losing people around myself, being told to come back to reality, such redundant speeches.

Escaping won't do good no more. It is indeed naive though that there still exists a school of thought that people earn what they deserve. People don't.

I am in Kolkata. I still see people pulling hand rickshaws. Just today, for again the nth time, felt guilty of my weight. I paid him double, still no escaping the fact 100 rs. for bearing me cannot be enough. Could I have paid more? yes. Did I? No.

Why? Just not sure. Not sure how much would be enough. My limited money was dear to me. He was less important than me. Just then, came flashing back, a remark which brought me crashing to the ground reality of the people in position of power, of affluence. People like me, we still somewhere believe, that people earn what they deserve.

Such utter rubbish. No one earns what they deserve. People earn what they possible can by suffocating their morale, killing their sense of empathy and  the ache of guilt knowing full well what they earn is unjust.  I cannot earn 10 times more than my janitor, no matter what. He does a more important job of keeping my toilet disease free & therefore me healthy. What the hell do I do? Push papers so some one somewhere can push some more papers & some corporate can sell some more fancy waste & con some more idiots.

Dil se, pyaar mohhabat se, do i really believe we would not survive the 21st century minus McDs & Dominoes.

I did nothing past 5 years, absolutely nothing credible to give me the sum I earned. Pushing papers, only coz. my father could afford fancy schools. What I don't get however is this, Why does something so obvious, so plebeian bother me at all. It is a very known fact.

Wealth is unequally distributed, we know that. Within the same realm of this vintage city, I have witnessed families of the raj era, politicians with their so called 'love money' from their patrons, 14 hr dog day slaves who get told on paper that their line of duty is from 9 - 5, yet get idiotic smart phones, fancy pant laptops & other devices to hook them 24X7, plus credit cards & greasy secretaries & ofcourse the ever charming boss, who inspires the slave. We have businesses run by the Sahib with the labor of the refugees, we have workshops fuelled by the mistries whose toil gets blurred beneath the smog of union politics.

It is fine to really splurge if you can. I love wearing my diamond nose pin. It is tiny, but it is my pride & ofcourse a luxury which I can do well without & pay my house help a bit more.

So why the hell I am trying to prove I am a cut above the rest, when I too am the same sleaze bag. Perhaps, all I am trying to say is that, it is ok to be bad. Just admit it. About time I give up preaching what needs to be done to make this world a better place to live. It is hopeless for I cant manage the standards myself. But no one earns what they deserve. No one deserves 100 rs. for dragging 70Kgs for full length of an hour.  This I admit & pray people realize & stop being so smug about their pay checks.

Despite all of it, my gurer shondesh & multitude of machh continues. Nor will I lessen my food intake, nor will I lose weight, plus I will still ride rickshaws & pay them abysmally low. Likewise, corporates will chase high end realty, Porsche & Lamborghini will still be sold and minimum wage rate figure will keep declining and working hours will steadily increase. 12 hrs just not enough if my  father ain't Richie rich.

People dont earn what they deserve. People earn what they can scavenge. It is a dog fight.  A toss of a dice which puts you in a rickshaw dragging line, a B school, a politicians lineage or a kendriya vidyalay with god fearing parenting efforts.

Need a definition of human beings. It just seems too blurred with so many contending species.

I see skies of blue..... clouds of white
Bright blessed days....dark sacred nights
And I think to myself .....what a wonderful world. ;D

Prostitution is my Profession

It's a fact. No metaphors here. Consider it yourself as I lay the facts of my job profile. But before that, there needs to be a consensus on the definition of prostitution. Going with the lexicography here, the definition is crystal clear - "Offering sexual intercourse for pay".  

With the advent of refined linguists who find a... umm ...how shall I put it... say a "cool" term for everything, English has become a very convenient language. So this above definition of prostitution having severe words like "Sexual Intercouse" can simply be  re-phrased as "Getting fucked for pay", fuck being the finest (yet obviously inadequate) word to describe ......................   like I said... words are simply pointless here.....

So now back to the point as to how I ended up being a prostitute. Meanwhile, a lot many people are also in the same profession and blissfully unaware of it. My only intent is to help them come to terms with this realization and thereby increase the respect quotient of this ultimate profession. I am as you know, always up and ready for charity. 

So, how does one become a prostitute at all. Simple, they get fucked and get paid for it. I know I have already mentioned this. And so what! The redundancy is only evidence of my need to emphasize the basic fact. Not a day goes by that I don't get fucked! every single day.. almost every single hour.. I am fucked. By a lot of people. And after each month end, I get paid. So, obviously, that makes me a prostitute. 

And a lot more than sometimes I even enjoy it. There's the thrill of new client, the excitement of exploring the avenues to please him, the silly moments of blush on his pleasing remarks, the kindness of my pimps (AKA managers/bosses) who would go to any length to make sure that their clients are satisfied. Gradually, I start seeing their point and also aspire for this job. The pay at the level of pimp is splendid but what's even better is the huge gratification of EGO! Oh! How powerful, how successful it must feel to prostrate us, prostitutes, to the big clients. Just like the dog who is happiest when fetching the ball for his master. The ball is tightly clenched in the dog's jaws; the prostitutes are wickedly held by the pimps, he.... who is so easily snared by his master, the client's fat pay check!

Consider this, the client too is the pimp to many as well as the prostitute to most above him. It is a vicious circle. We all get fucked. Always. It has been the hallmark of my life post graduation. The only gradient is in the quality of brothels. The smaller ones care to have a health card and offer some rest time ofcourse as their clients are neither in magnitudes of insanity nor do they pay in heap. But still, the charity and homeliness is welcome. The more glorious the brothels, the feeble are the prospects of fun. It's all work at the big firms.

But don't we all find sex worth it all. We can't really imagine a life of chastity now can we. We can stay home, be with one man, not be demanding, I mean, between the combined wealth of the world, do we really need to be in this profession! Don't we grow enough food, have enough medicines, enough cloths for all. 

Still we choose to get fucked. Ok, agreed! Most do. And then there are the monks. The self liberated, globe trotting, back packing free spirits who reveal to us what our true self is. It ain't that they don't get fucked and all... They do. They too succumb to the pointless, meaningless chores of ass licking and ....(I intend to be polite here)... but they have reached a level of detachment which is most alluring.

3 years.. of getting fucked and paid. Some people truly claim job satisfaction. I am so surprised at this. I mean, it has to be the factor of orgasm. True, if your clients are fun, why not! I too have amazing bouts of being elated at my profession. But, it is prostitution. So straight forward and downright true. I am a prostitute. End of each day, my body hurts, my mind is sagged, I just need sleep, I feel so unnecessarily used, I find the pay often meager, more often than not I worry about the consequences of protection back-firing (the days when you do everything right & still day ends hell). It is all for money. 

And what do I do with that money? Buy cloths, toys ...so on & so forth.  Look pretty, pretend to be polished. Go home to my family who look up at me with tenderness and pity. For they know, what I do for living. Born a slave. Serving this pimp of a system. Serving the client of godliness & 'working hard' virtues. and we celebrate the same. 14 hour shifts, bitchy competitions, silly criticisms, diet food, promise of great future, fake appraisals & a huge ego... all leads to the perfect ambiance for the perfect fuck! and ... you get paid.

But make no mistake... performance is everything! Fuck! 

All for the love of sex. Hail Prostitution. Hail Capitalism. Say yes to more money and work more. Always feel cheap & insecure. Always want to break free & realize there is no place to go. Pretend to be satisfied. Splurge in the toys & on the boys. Look great .... Live & want to die... just great!