Now for a few humble thoughts about the Oscars.

I did not see every second of it, but my wife did, and she joins me in noting that there was not one word of tribute, not one breath, to our fighting men and women in Iraq and Afghanistan or to their families or their widows or orphans. There were pitifully dishonest calls for peace -- as if the people we are fighting were interested in any peace for us but the peace of the grave. But not one word for the hundreds of thousands who have served and are serving, not one prayer or moment of silence for the dead and maimed.

Basically, the sad truth is that Hollywood does not think of itself as part of America, and so, to Hollywood, the war to save freedom from Islamic terrorists is happening to someone else. It does not concern them except insofar as it offers occasion to mock or criticize George Bush. They live in dreamland and cannot be gracious enough to thank the men and women who pay with their lives for the stars' ability to live in dreamland. This is shameful. [...]

Hollywood is above all about self: self-congratulation, self-promotion, and above all, self-protection.

Its European.




Why many people recently have been opting for the 'other' way?
This Gtalk status below seeks to explain.(please note,unintentionally)

Amrutha Bushan:I am so miserable without you,its almost like having you here.(one of my dry humor stunts)
Tharunya Balan:And thats why more women are turning into Lesbians.(cos Tharunya that day was enlightened about the fact that men are 'ijjiyets'.)

Now,try reading both the status messages together.
"I am so miserable without you,its almost like having you here.And thats why more women are turning into Lesbians."

ROTFL! Tharunya,we genioses!



I get up late for the day.
Stares passed to the guilty with drunken eyes of disturbed slumber
The Sun God is up and over our heads
and thus I start my day at precise noon
Habits of treating each blessed day like a cursed gem
I throw it to waste
Before I know lights fade out making way for Darker ambitions
Which bring with them the Ocean of Sparkling Constellations
The fear and guilt of another day gone to naught
There's just the Image of my dreams that help me forgive
The west Sun God rising past the mountaineous City scapes.


Ordinary Day(Dolores O'Riordan)

This is just an ordinary day
Wipe the insecurities away
I can see that the darkness will erode
Looking out the corner of my eye
I can see that the sunshine will explode
Far across the desert in the sky

Beautiful girl
Won't you be my inspiration?
Beautiful girl
Don't you throw your love around
What in the world, what in the world
Could ever come between us?
Beautiful girl, beautiful girl
I'll never let you down
Won't let you down

This is the beginning of your day
Life is more intricate than it seems
Always be yourself along the way
Living through the spirit of your dreams

Beautiful girl
Won't you be my inspiration?
Beautiful girl
Don't you throw your love around
What in the world, what in the world
Could ever come between us?
Beautiful girl, beautiful girl
I'll never let you down
Won't let you down
Down, down...


Tragic Kingdom(No Doubt)

Once was a magical place
Over time it was lost
Price increased the cost
Now the fortune of the kingdom
Is locked up in its dungeon vaults
The castle floor ties in traps
With coiled wires set back
Decoyed by the old cheese
Now the drawbridge has been lifted
As the millions
They drop to their knees

They pay homage to a king
Whose dreams are burried
In their minds
His tears are frozen stiff
Icicles drip from his eyes

The cold wind blows as it snows
On those who fight to get in
On heads that are small
Disillusioned as they enter
They're unaware what's
Behind castle walls
But now it's written in stone
The king has been overthrown
By jesterly fools
And the power of the people
Shall come to believe they do rule

They pay homage to a king
Whose dreams are buried
In their minds
His tears are frozen stiff
Icicles drip from his eyes
Welcome to the tragic kingdom
Cornfields of popcorn
Have yet to spring open

Have they lost their heads
Or are they just all blind mice
We've heard all their stories
One too many times
Hypnotized by fireflies
That glow in the dark
Midgets that disguise themselves
As tiny little dwarfs
The parade that's electrical
It serves no real purpose
Just takes up a lot of juice
Just to impress us

Welcome to the tragic kingdom
Cornfields of popcorn
Have yet to spring open



What Drug are You?

Why does everything need a definition? Why must society insist on labels? Why can't we all, as a people, decide that life is about living, and that all this hatred and fear has no place in today's society? And why is that couch talking to me?




Closing these windows that blow stinging cold winds of fear and dread
I beg myself to feel warmer
I tell myself to stay here longer
farther than the longest past
I have known my desires
and deliberately failed at keeping up with them
For if i were to ever meet them i would die from happiness
and all those dreams would remain no more themselves:dreams.
Even as I write this for me,
I notice my feet and hands frozen in spears of angst.


My newestest Crasss....aaah,sighh!

Dan,For The Gossip Girl
Scott Tucker For John Tucker must die
Loverboi For Me. :D


Happy People

Of the timeless question of sanity and insanity.
Love springs from the latter,listen clear.
Joy,and crystal bliss of yonder speaks of an essential characteristic of fallible insanity.
And out there in the world of knowns and facts many a soul perish delinquent.
For the inability to be.For the fears of others but himself.For the sheer knowledge of being with them:they say.,and for not being kicked to the ground of relics.
For the lack.Of being.
Being insane.

READ:They laugh.A lot.
They laugh at what I did.They laugh at what I do.
They laugh at what I say.(had said)
I ask them " Please tell me the joke too."
They laugh harder.
I think they are very happy people.


Donald Shimoda

1. There was a Master come unto the earth, born in the holy land of Indiana, raised in the mystical hills east of Fort wayne....

"Listen," he said, "it's important. We are all. Free. To do. What- ever. We want. To do." Pg.109

"... that you find whatever it is that you want to find." His handbook fell out of the pocket as I took off my shirt, ..." Pg.65

"... But we can believe we're hurt, in whatever agonizing detail we want. We can believe we're victims, killed and killing, shuddered around by good luck and bad luck. ..." Pg.81


$$$ Eyed

Time is money.Honey.
And I aint rich.
P.S-This place is not recommended for you.Scoot!



Why must we only write of Love?
Why must she always take the lead?
Why must we revere her?
The Bossy Whore.She who toys with us all.
Whatever happened to Hatred?
To envy?
To Anger?
I wish to love them too.
There!She's here,again!!



I wake to see the Sun Shine.
You the Sun;I your shine.
But the morning birds fly.Low and High.
The birds are blue and they eclipse your face.



All of us search for love, but some of us, after we've found it, wish we hadn't.
-Desperate Housewives


Streets:Where I truly belong

I dont need prayers to save me..
to make me belong..
to give me a heart and mind again..just when i think ive lost it
i head..i head out ..to the gushing winds..
they always welcome you.irrespective of what you were,what you are,
what you wish to be...they always do.
again i am given the green carpet which seem to have spread to the spaces
obscuring the crimson sun,the costly stars,the opal moon ..the omnipresent seas above..I have tasted,breathed,slept,embraced,kissed,given blood to witness our unwritten unsung bonds...I have tasted dust.I have been dust.
The streets have given me most.Refuge,peace,unbounded joy,inseperable bonds,the lovelist winds in the world,the trickles of rain that kiss my face,..
Ive known its dark sides too..
We have had our tough times..times when I had to prove myself worthy by thw way of blood,dust,and bruises.
I have been forever adviced against the ties we had forged in the many years..
I have been told to quit.for good.
But Its children are proud.They are real.They stick by their own minds.
I am its happy child.


"Live in Concert" at NYC

A Confession: I did not watch the original broadcast of Nirvana's performance on MTV Unplugged.I have never seen it on video.I dont need to.I was there,at the Sony Studios in New York on November 18,1993,and I keep that hour in my head,with a clarity unspoiled by jumping camera angles and commercial breaks:the garlands and candlelight;the hushed strength of Krist,Dave,Pat Smear and cellist Lori Goldston;the hint of dare in the way Kurt opened the show with "About a Girl"("This is off our first record.Most people don't know it.")and how "All Apologies,"near the end,affirmed that early promise.And I recall my own gasp of recognition when I heard the slithering-cobra guitar of "The man who sold the world" David Bowie's 1970 reverie on power,celebrity and death."I guarantee you,I will screw this up."Kurt said.But he slipped into Bowie's silken ambiguity-and the unmistakable parallels to his own life-like second skin.Kurt did not sound bummed or bitter,just painfully wise,willing to laugh at himself and comfortable in a good song.
"It's easy to remember him being sad,"Dave told me last year."But the things that I like to think about are his happiness,and how much he loved music,whether it was sitting in a living room and playing an acoustic guitar,or playing at the Off Ramp in Seattle.He really,really loved creating music."

This is the world Kurt built for himself,when the real world was not enough.Listen again if you think you know it;listen loud if you dont know it yet.
Then build your own.

-David Fricke
New York City


I come from the womb of the Earth
And so do you
Therefore I know that you know
I know you lie to yourself
I know you run away
And I met Time
She promises to heal me
All the un-nursed wounds that you left
But I know she lies too.
She lies too
Just like you
What I gave you and shared, is that very mystery
That none can define
Its what life is made of
Its what gives each one of us a soul to sustain
and a body to nourish
Is it love?
No.Obsession:we understand.
We cannot handle something as sacred as Love.
So,let us call it 'want','need' or 'Obsession'.
We do not want truth
And we claim to be honest
We want to romance confusion
We want to relish pain
We want to scrape out the now
We want to forever embrace the past
We want correct answers
I hear sacred chants over and over recited in the mind of my soul
My body shudders and evades at the fact that you are not here
I tell time I will be her friend
The clock begins to tick again.


Wine Cellar

Our wine cellar has no wine,
just floors grown cold in Minnesota winter.
Cold floors where naked feet dance,
limbs intertwine, hidden from prying eyes
and eyebrows raised in scrutiny.
Here lips touch in an innocent but guilty
life, beginning but dying
to the sounds of Miles Davis
slowly seeping through the cracks in the door,
through the chatter of those who have lived no more but
in this moment lie resurrected.
Here our young lovers grasp for something:
the heat of each other's body,
intoxication in a world devoid of drunkenness.

Chad M.Zigweid

Tortured Artist

Poet, painter, sculptor, scribe,
I applaud your endeavor to elevate mankind
in this world of Phillip-Morris humanitarians.
Knowing the enterprise set before yourself
will be unappreciated by masses inhabiting
our assembly-line domain,
you push forward with your labor
to create.

Christine Kazimer



Time:5:15 p.m.
Place:Sankars,4th Block Jayanagar.

After a brief shopping spree alone,I head to Sankars to browse books cos I really dont feel like heading home.Its festival and Im not excited about it at atll.And too many people dropping into my place.I go the Indian Fiction section and my eyes spot Mark Tully.I remember Vikram telling me that he liked Tully.So I decide to try his book.The book is titled "No full stops in India".
I notice there is also a coffee shop adjoining the book store.I order my coffee and get back to my book.My seat directly faces the manager of the bookstore.I realise this only after I notice that he has been staring at me for quite sometime now.
I finish my coffee and decide on my book.
I go to the billing counter and the manager has to bill the book for me.
I give him the book.
I ask him,"Are you the manager here?"
"What is your name?"
I say"I did not like the way you were looking at me."
He is caught off guard.
I notice his ears turning red.
He fumbles for words.
He says "Sss-ss-staring? I wasnt Staring.I wasnt Staring!!"
"Ok.Fine if you werent."
"I'm shocked why would I be staring at you?"
"If you werent why are you being so defensive?"
He giggles..
"No!No! madam,you are not supposed to sit here AND read the book."
"Well,its a coffee shop.I bought coffee too.Then you must put up a notice."
"No,no,its just that you are not supposed to sit and read.thats why I was looking at you.ok?thats all."
"Then you could have simply told me that I wasnt supposed to sit here AND read."
He says the same thing again and again.("No madam!we do not allow people to sit and read!No madam! You are not supposed to sit here and read!")
I ask him, does he realise he is talking crap?


Back to square one you mean..?

You went back to what you knew
So far removed from all that we went through
And I tread a troubled track
My odds are stacked
I'll go back to black

We only said good-bye with words
I died a hundred times
You go back to her
And I go back to.....

I go back to us

I love you much
It's not enough
You love blow and I love puff
And life is like a pipe
And I'm a tiny penny rolling up the walls inside

We only said goodbye with words
I died a hundred times
You go back to her
And I go back to

We only said good-bye with words
I died a hundred times
You go back to her
And I go back to

Black, black, black, black, black, black, black,
I go back to
I go back to

We only said good-bye with words
I died a hundred times
You go back to her
And I go back to

We only said good-bye with words
I died a hundred times
You go back to her
And I go back to black

Courtesy:Amy Winehouse.



Ok.Honestly,Ive been into poetry since I was 9 or 8.
Ive written some of the best ones when 15.
But then somewhere down the line I suffered a severe and serious handicap of creativity.I lost em.forever.
But I satisfy my creative lust through prose.
I did discover something.
Nothing can ever take the place of poetry.
Not music.Not singing.And definetly not prose.
So I bought myself a book of poems by Anita Nair.
Yeah,you heard me right.
Anita Nair.Who knew the woman wrote poetry as well?
I didnt know neither.Until now.

Here are some bits and pieces of her work that I really enjoyed.

"The debris of light;
The density of a starless night.
My forefinger my brush,
Glistening lamp black my paint.
When your eyes meet mine
In the mating pool of the mirror.,
My hand falters,
The line smudges.
Woman,you do not know what you do to me."
Woman,let me match my longing with yours.
Let me sear your lips with mine.
Let me burn your flesh with my hunger.
Why then do you evade me now?
Is it that you smell the savage?
Is it that you fear who I was?
Lord of the Universe
Master of destruction,
I stand before you
Unwilling to be cowered.

Have you ever felt
The bones of your child prod your palm?
Have you ever heard
The piercing wail of hunger?
I sell space,
Mortar,brick and
aluminium sliding windows.
Flats cost 960 per square foot
making telephone calls and
endless calls:
"Hello,can I help you."
Travel faceless in buses,
wrapped sandwich-like in
college election posters.
My belly pinched,
crab claws grip and tug.
I search for a face,
beady eyes,
several pairs meet mine:
bastard,I swear softly.
No one hears me.
Suffer in silence,
the shame of it,
for being treated like a fair
piece of flesh.
The conductor has no change
He likes my face,
gives me the ticket.
The man behind me growls in disgust.
Privilege and pain
come together.
Love and aching
are the Gemini twins.
This is for real
the weight of this hand
that gathers me to the curve of a hip
and so as I lie
in this nest of bed clothes and slumbering flesh
I tell myself
this warmth is content.
The rest-
the foolish leaping of a vagrant heart
at a look exchanged
across a room crowded
with people and objects;
the feel of fleeting skin;
the ripening of hunger
will not trangress into tomorrow.


Norah Jones.

Rustic,Husky,melodic,too slow..
Call her what you like.
Too many people yelled at me that I sound like her..
Therefore rock music isnt for me.(gawd! am I disappointed!!)
Norah Jones.First heard her in 2002.
Like her or not..
You just cant ignore her.
Likewise. :P



Nice and gay thoughts fill the air.
Like the pierian spring.
And I heard the blue bells ring.
But it wasnt blue this time.
It turned green,then,orange..
and then red.
How?How? How can anyone loathe someone enough to have them dead?
To wish to turn that soul sour and cold forever.
But I think yes,perhaps it could be....
He had smiled when my soul escaped my mortal temple.A Second time.


Pink vs Green

Pink flowers in pink water.
Green leaves in pink water.
Green frogs in Pink water.
Gifting each leaflet with a dew or more.
Gods from above weep.
Mucky sand slushy with water.
Bubbles;mud bubbles.
Mirrors to the skies.,above and far away.from you and me.
Perfect is paradise.
Fuck adam and eve!


Pink and Plastic

Cady- Oh, God.
Janis- You dirty little liar.

Cady-I'm sorry. I can explain.

Janis-Explain how you forgot
to invite us to your party?

Damien-Janis, I cannot stop this car.
I have a curfew.

Cady-You know I couldn't invite you.
I had to pretend to be Plastic.

Janis-Hey, buddy, you're not
pretending anymore.
You're Plastic.
Cold, shiny, hard Plastic.

Damien-Curfew,2a.m. It is now 1.40 a.m.

Janis-Did you have an awesome time?
Did you drink awesome shooters
and listen to awesome music,
and then just sit around and soak up
each other's awesomeness?

Cady-You're the one who made me like this
so you could use me
for your eighth-grade revenge.

Janis-God! See, at least me and
Regina George know we're mean.
You try to act like you're so innocent.
Like, "Oh, I used to live in Africa
"with all the little birdies
and the little monkeys."

Cady-You know what? It's not my fault..
you're in love with me or something!

Janis- What?!
Damien- Oh, no she did not!

Janis-See? That is the thing
with you Plastics.
You think that everybody
is in love with you,
when actually, everybody hates you.
Like Aaron Samuels, for example.
He broke up with Regina
and guess what.He still doesn't want you.
So why are you still messing
with Regina, Cady? I'll tell you why.

Because you are a mean girl!
You're a bitch!



Before anyhting ever began to conspire into a part of the universe..
From dust to meteor..
It is known that only one thing had had always existed.

It is her.
Our Mother.
Of everything.
The fountainhead.
Yet they all shun her.
Because they only came after she was no longer the only thing.



As I ride down the lane.
I brush past a million things I seldom notice.
This time I noticed.
The grrrrrr...Sound.. Linsie complains with..
When I go above 50 km/hr.

The Sky who flirts with the varied types of weather...
I empathise with Him...
I want everything Too.
He seems like me...
Paying equal attention to each adored Damsel,who claims to be his.
Rain,Dust,Breeze,Ferocious Sun,Wind,Drizzle,..
He is undecided.
He likes em all.
He loves em all.

I wish I could look at Him all the time.
I love the way he looks at me when I make the water my bed.
Wish I could be one of the things he was undecided on.
I would be away.
Up and Away.
With the breeze caressing everything mine.

But I feel Gravity.
And Ive assignments to complete.




Rules.Offence.Right.Wrong.Good.Bad.Me andYou.
Survive.Perish.Do.Dont.Skin and Soul.
Bleed.Heal.Red and Blue.

So many..

One,For Another.
Everything is paired.
Is there a single entity..
For now.Yes.


Bangalore Weather and Me.

MMMmmmm the fresh breeze that carries with her the lingering smell of the land she comes from.You'd think its gonna shower flowers and fruits hah!
Honey,go shut the windows and doors ..you sure dont want rain water in your living room.Yes, and this is accompanied by the rain's loyal sidekick-thunderstorm.
Picture this-This is in the month of Aprrrilll.
Summer time.
Wheres the Sun?
Wheres the Tan?
Where are the ice candies?
Damn you.
Welcome to Bangalore aka Bengalooru(I find the 'loo' highly offensive)

P.S. -- Im moody.Very.Mom says it varies indefinetly like the Bangalore weather.



Hebrew (עִבְרִית, ‘Ivrit) is a Semitic language of the Afro-Asiatic language family spoken by more than seven million people in Israel and Jewish communities around the world.

My fascination for the religion particularly the Hebrew chants dawned with Madonnas number Isaac*.Neat one.I didnt realise it was Hebrew in the first place.The chant sounded like the songs these boatsmen down south of India hum when they return home in the auspicious presence of biding adieu to the glorious cluster of fire.

*{hebrew chants}

Im ninalu (if they were locked)

Daltey Nadivim (doors of the generous)

Daltey NadivimDaltey Marom (doors on high)

Im ninalu

Staring up into the heavens

In this hell that binds your hands

Will you sacrifice your comfort?Make your way in a foreign land?

Wrestle with your darknessAngels call your name

Can you hear what they are saying?

Will you ever be the same?

MmmmmmIm ninalu Im ninaluMmmmmmIm ninalu Im ninalu

Remember remember and never forget

All of your life has all been a test

You will find the gate that's open

Even though your spirit's broken

Open up my heart

And cause my lips to speak

Bring the heaven and the stars

Down to earth for me

Im ninaluDaltey NadivimMmmmmmIm ninalu Im ninaluMmmmmmIm ninalu

Im ninaluMmmmmmIm ninalu im ninalu MmmmmmIm ninalu Im ninalu

El- Hay (god is alive)

El- Hay Marumam Al Keruvim (god is alive, elevated upon cherubs)

Kulam Be-Ruho Ya'alu (everybody in his spirit will rise)

Wrestle with your darkness

Angels call your name

Can you hear what they are saying?

Will you ever be the same?

MmmmmmIm ninalu Im ninaluMmmmmmIm ninalu

Im ninaluMmmmmmIm ninalu im ninaluMmmmmm

Im ninalu Im ninaluEl- Hay (god is alive)El- Hay Marumam Al Keruvim (god is alive, elevated upon cherubs)[Spoken part]



Confession: I have used the word 'slut' whilst referring to another woman.
I have regretted using it.
In fact, I regretted using it within ten seconds of it having escaped my lips. It wasn't about what she wore. I wore less. It wasn't about make-up. She used none. In retrospect, it was about anger, and a shade of envy.This is about four years ago--
I was sitting around with a couple of young male friends. They were talking about the difficulty of getting girls to attend parties. They asked me, half joking, if I could get them through to some girls.And stupidly, sanctimously, I shrugged and said, 'I don't know any girls who'd go out partying with strangers. Well, maybe I know one. She's a bit of a slut.'The boys reacted unexpectedly. They exchanged glances and one said 'Shhh. Don't ever use that word for a woman.'
My humiliation has rarely been so complete as it was in that instant.What had been going on in my mind? Did I disrespect girls who went out with boys too soon? But I too have hung out with men, when introduced through other friends. What did I disrespect about the girl?
It took years for me to figure out what and why. I envied the girl a little. She did what she wanted. She seemed not to be afraid of being judged by her family or other people like me. It is a different story that a lot of her recklessness and defiance was rooted in her fear of being judged by her own city-bred peers, of not 'fitting in' in glamourous circles. But I did not judge her because of her fears; I judged her because of mine.
There was another reason why I was so flippantly moralistic. The man who shushed me had not been paying enough attention to me. And I craved his attention. I wanted to win his approval, somehow. To show that I was better than those 'easy' girls he hung out with. After all, all my life, I had been told that men like girls who play hard-to-get; that they respect girls with the hands-off approach.Unfortunately, the effect was opposite to the one desired. But the good thing was that I was immediately chastened, and flung into self-reflection. Here was a man I liked and, in an uncomprehending, instinctive fashion, respected. And whose respect I may have lost.I began to think about why I respected him - not because he partied, not because he swore and provoked and argued. Perhaps, because he was one of the few men I'd met who was neither awkward around me, nor aggressively friendly. He seemed to ask nothing of me and never crossed any lines - physical or social. And never once did I fear either him or his morality.
Never again has the word slut crossed my lips, or even my mind.
In fact, when a bunch of us journalists were outside a restaurant, an acquaintance leaned over and whispered - 'See those girls? They're sluts!' - I was surprised.
The women being referred to were in tight jeans, skirts and halter tops, lots of mascara, no male escorts.I asked, 'How do you know?''It's obvious.'I simply noted that the clothes were very smart, and considered asking them where they shopped. 'See! They're waiting to get picked up,' she continued.
'Are they?' I said, in a deliberately bored voice, and turned away.

Courtesy :- blanknoiseproject.blogspot.com


Did you say Gen-gap?!

I bet we all did.
I want you to open a savings account with the LIC agent.He's my cousin's daughter's son-in-law.So, no worries kusu.I know the guy.(WOW! we are connected to another person on the planet by less than 6 people. awesome.)
I will only say this once.Try and get it.I wouldnt like to explain things in detail(whew!can catch up wid some indigo!!)
Look,the things that society says these days about women empowerment,gender-equality, female property rights ivvella bari shoki mathu.The parliament passed the bill,it went through the rituals of yes/no/maybe/who cares/what about us?/what,what abt u?/blah/blah/ and tediously materialised into one of the laws you read abt in the Indian Constitution.
Sure.But thats where it will be.The popular problem of delay of execution.
Likewise,you hear people talk all the things that women would like to hear.
Did you notice them walk their talk. Illa kusu,that dont happen.
So, you get what I mean? Only you can and should rely on yourself in every other sense.
Especially the finances. (Grinning I raise both eyebrows)
Come to think of it. My thatha wasnt born anywhere after 1930.


My ears went dumb
to the beat o My heart;
I'd already started doing 'the' thing
what with all the bling.
the lights had gotten used to..
forever shining over My head
they'd do it 'ven if I were dead.
there was always a smile on my lips,
And My heart was...by my mind..eclipsed.
I enter the hall o fame
the lights that blind My eyes seem very nice.
My friends are worth 'er a billion
ah! but so Am I
look,Muh sashay gives it 'way! (wot did you say?)
its Me here,Me there..
in the print..
bout the wedding ring..,the assaults..,
and My lifestyle being the way
the lights...they do really blind my eyes...
someone takes over..now...in guise
Ive lived all of my life...blinded.
Blinded, by the blinding lights.



This year on International women's day, March 8, thursday Blank Noise Bangalore + Radio Indigo announce a Night Walk- A Night Action PlanThursday. 7 pm.
RestHouse Road, park (off Brigade Road). Please assemble at the park by 6 30 pm.
All you have to do is step out in clothes you were 'eve teased' in/ experienced ‘street sexual violence in.We ask you to take a firm stand- “There is no such thing as 'asking for it'.”Together we are taking a stand by saying we do have the right to wear what we want to wear, and to feel safe in any kind of garment.
We will walk through the Night Action. We start from Rest House Road and conclude near the court at Cubbon Park. The Night Action Walk begins at 7 pm and concludes at 9.
Blank Noise and Radio Indigo ensure you a ‘safe’ ride back home with auto drivers who support the idea. We have about 50 autos for 150 of you to get home.
Please email us immediately at blurtblanknoise@gmail.comPlease include the name of the locality you need to get back to after the Night Action. Please call or email for any further questions- 98868 40612.
Fun. Thrill. Action. Guaranteed.