Dear Indian women on Twitter, you are being unreasonable again? Now is not the right time to whine about a “mandemic” in the midst of a pandemic. Look, I do understand, when you are making an SOS call on Twitter, pleading for an oxygen bed for someone you love dearly, the last thing you expect is a horny man in your mentions dying to flash his dick. But what did you expect? The great Indian tharki to be defeated by a mere pandemic? Some things don’t change. Like our authorities, the creepies who keep crawling into your DMs, never fail to disappoint. Did you really have to share screenshots of men asking you out for a date, or saying “nice bobs” when you are at your wits end, looking for leads for an ICU bed?
Damn girl! Don’t you realise, this is not exactly a great time to be alive. Especially for your male counterparts, who’ve emerged from an exhausting year, homebound and constantly on Zoom calls in their bermudas. Their social life restricted to observing the particularly aggressive mating of the pigeons on their balcony. Many have spent over a year without grabbing someone. And now they have to walk into another hellish year of more restrictions.
Like our authorities, the creepies who keep crawling into your DMs, never fail to disappoint.
The least you can do is be kind to them. We women have been assigned the role of a caregiver for mankind, by mankind. Every pore in our bodies cells is meant to ooze with empathy.
Admit it! It’s your fault for being pretty and in distress. He knows it because he tried to enlarge your miniscule Twitter DP. He noticed bobs and got excited. And then you give out your number because it’s a COVID emergency. What is the poor soul supposed to do? Actually help you? This is the friend of the same guy who sent threats to Dhoni’s daughter. Why did you think you’d be spared? Cut him some slack, will you?
Let me give you a tour of his head to make you understand his predatory ways. A woman on social media who uses her own photo and not that of a tortoise, is an open invite for men to creep on. A phone number is like an entreaty for attention. It’s not everyday that a chic online shares her number. And when she is sharing it willingly, she must be waiting for you to call her and hear your heavy breathing.
How benevolent he is that’s he saying he’ll arrange for oxygen if you agree to be “his bestyyyyy”. But instead of playing damsel in distress, you are being a no-nonsense woman, who knows her mind and doesn’t hold back her opinions on politics and gender. It upsets him to see someone show him his rightful place, the dustbin. He fears that men will be usurped from their towers of supremacy by the more deserving women. So he must rise from the dustbin and convey his displeasure the only way he can – humiliate her and threaten her with rape. Who knows it better than him, his dick is the most repulsive thing humankind has encountered.
He fears that men will be usurped from their towers of supremacy by the more deserving women.
Remember he is not alone. These noble souls prefer working in packs since there’s comfort in numbers. As they have balls of steel, they hide behind walls of anonymity and righteousness to stifle voices that rattle them. Because only he decides who gets to have a voice and how they use it.
How dare you prick his cosy cocoon with your agency?
Why should women taking to Twitter out of desperation to seek help during a humanitarian crisis, expect anything different? She should melt with gratitude that he responds with “Can I get a bed next to you.” Harassment offline and online is part of terms of conditions that she gets to sign when she’s born a woman. If he’s filling plasma donation forms so that he can harass you, close your eyes and sing “Om Shanti Om.”
I think it’s time we all took a moment to admire the ingenuity of all the mundas out there for turning every single public platform into a hookup app. For them, every woman in their line of sight is an opportunity that must be grabbed. The virtual space with its anonymity and little or no consequence just makes it easier for them to unleash their cock.
So, can you please think of your SOS calls as 300 tonnes of foreign aid languishing at Delhi customs while the janata at large gasps for oxygen and treat him as your emergency instead?