Ms.Matchsticks and the Machine

As usual Ms.Matchstick gets man-explained

Ms.Matchsticks know the feminism history. And, feminism today has become such a requirement to even think of equality. But, of course, that makes Ms.Matchsticks a 'feminazi', because god forbid should she differentiate herself from a carpet. One of the worst things is when people make a big deal about her bra strap showing. Sometimes it does, given the fact that she does not have her eyeballs stuck on her bra strap. This brought her to the point that, penis holders get to bend and show the world the dark side of the moon and whip their little member out in public to take a blessed leak, but if a woman's bra shows even unintentionally, all of that is put aside to sit and converse about how a woman's pride is stacked between her legs and skin. Hasn't the world seen enough of inequality already? Do we have to sexualize daily underwear? Ms.matchsticks hated this. Hated being told to fix her clothes because apparently, a little strap scares the living daylig...

You would think that the world really cares about your trials but, honey! that ain't happening ever. Now, that's a lesson Ms.Matchsticks teaches everyone. Especially, the overly enthusiastic gremlins of hope. This time, Ms.Matchsticks found herself in one of those booby traps of an evening. You know... one of those events which you plan on bailing on for a week, to eventually get roped in by a co-worker in the last minute, kind. Such a waste of a windy, chilly evening, she thought to herself as she lightened her cigarette of the building ash, on to the ashtray. 'I could have been in my comfy bed, under my comforter reading a book. M,m may be a dirty book.....any BOOK!'.....Ms.Matchsticks almost said the last word out loud. 'Hi!' ....she heard from a remotely familiar voice but couldn't put a face to its kind. She heard again... ' 'Hi! I Think we met at the Classical Music Fest in November...right?' Now, she had to look. She saw a decentl...

"Bossy women! That's always a scary thing to have around"- Irene screamed from the other room at work. Irene was Ms.Matchstick's co-writer at the writing firm she was an editor at. That made Ms.Matchsticks start thinking about her new project. 'The Rise of Ms.Pants'. Is it that wrong that Ms.Matchstick as a woman should not explore the opportunities as a man should? IS it that bad that sometimes, just sometimes, women too like it just the way they want it? Ms.Matchstick Reads These have always been questions she used to ask herself. Why is she the bitch every time she says 'No', I will not be your doormat? Is it because they think her brain is smaller than theirs? She and Irene spent the rest of the day talking about all those penis holders who thought they were just too much for them to deal with. Isn't it funny that every time someone loses their footing to deal with someone larger than their lives, automatically confirms to the horr...

The intersection of the collective experiences of womanhood everywhere in the world always kept Ms.matchsticks up. Actually not just women, but children, men, little boys. Everyone. It's a big price to pay to feel far too much, and be able to accommodate so many ideas, feelings. No wonder, he thinks Ms.Matchsticks is insane. Trying to bridge this gap between her mind and soul, she finally managed to get the hell out of that bed. Damini's story is still haunting her. She keeps wondering if there was more that she could have done for Damini. But, anyway everyone has their cross to bear. Ms.Matchsticks carries hers everyday. Everywhere she goes. Most of Ms.Matchstick's days pass by as an idle writer taking down two hundred trolls on news comment sections. But, last night was a little different. From all the feminist blogs she comes across, why is it so hard for a brown girl to have a conversation with a western feminist? Is it because of her color, she automatically m...

The phone kept ringing and Ms.Matchsticks was already furious. Why! Why do so many people keep calling. But, she had to take the call. After all, it might just be an important one.  Ms.Matchsticks slowly dragged herself from under her blanket and saw a familiar name ringing on the phone. it's been ages she had spoken to Damini.  " Hi! Damini"....Ms.Matchstick almost said it too loud. And all she could hear back is a frantic female screaming about an abortion.  So, Ms.Matchstick slowed down and tried listening carefully and asked, 'Sweetie? Do you want me to come over?" and Damini yelled out; ' God! Yes! Please.".  Ms.Matchstick arrived at Ballygunge Phari in the next forty five minutes. She had to. Because, no chica should be left to deal with something like this alone. Especially, when the penis holder is no where to be found.  Oh poor Damini. Lost and frantic, trying to wrap her head around as to how did she ever end up with a ...

Sorry! Sorry! Today was different. Ms. Matchsticks was in no mood for the usual tantrums. She was running late and nobody but nobody would understand the female anatomy of being in a hurry. She's feisty, she is always ready to punch if you get in her way. Except that guy. That guy is ... well he is allowed to be a bastard. As Ms.Matchsticks gathered her morning papers and was ready to step out, Mrs Whisker's let her know today is going to pretty darn weird. Yeah! There goes Mrs.Whiskers. Warning her about the fantastic few. Always thinking when will Ms.Matchsticks show up. Will she look beautiful? Would her voice still spell out love?  No! No time for that now. Ms.Matchsticks is late. So, so late.  She walked by her lane, hoping to get the vehicle on time and that's when she saw a pan whopping his penis out near the drain to take a leak. Ah! Public urination. The natural sport of the East.  So, Ms.Matchsticks thought! She gets told off if her bra s...

Ms.Matchsticks likes her coffee dark. Darker than coal. Why? Because, it is easier to make. Girls without pants...now that's a funny thought, Ms.Matchsticks almost spoke out loud. But, what really does she need? Sad! If only men realized, if only the society knew the power of a complicated woman. Enough with this now. Ms.Matchsticks needs to get her work rolling. She needs to set the world on fire. if only he understood, if only he realized that a chica needs her place. Sad. Again. But, she knew that nothing could build her heart except her. And, she stopped expecting men who think they will to help her find that place in the world. Money has never been an issue for Ms.Matchsticks. because, this chica knows what works. She knows how lonely it can get, and god she knows what attention means. But, how far could that get a brown girl living alone in a world where these very two elements go against her? Who cares! Ms. Matchsticks needs to move forward. This is the best part ...

“Let someone love you just the way you are – as flawed as you might be, as unattractive as you sometimes feel, and as unaccomplished as you think you are. To believe that you must hide all the parts of you that are broken, out of fear that someone else is incapable of loving what is less than perfect, is to believe that sunlight is incapable of entering a broken window and illuminating a dark room.” — Marc Hack Ah, the follies of literature Ms. Matchsticks thought while she read this quote. Clearly, Marc Hack never met brown men. Someone should take them and introduce them to the average Indian male smothered by their mother and trained to believe in the flawless slate of a woman's brain. She was doing all of those thinking while he was telling her how small of a brain she had for not keeping up with his broken promises. After all, why wouldn't he? It's the right bestowed by him, from his mother to make sure the rest of the women in the world would be lucky t...