An open letter to screw it.
To whosoever it may concern
Having spent the better half of my life’s first quarter in the obscurity of my moustaches and quite diligently so, I’ve earned a nick-name among my male compatriots, ‘Muchhi’, a benign spinoff from the grotesque sounding ‘Mucchad’. What people don’t know is that it was coined by a perceived (and hairless at the time, male) adversary as a tease. Since then, the moustache has kind of ‘grown on me’. So when Madame Purba offered me an opportunity of “defending men's right to keep a moustache”, my moustaches bristled up like a distressed porcupine and nose-picked me until I acquiesced and took up this herculean task of redeeming the staches...
You see, thoughts are like things we can breathe in and out. So, the moe allows the words and thoughts to linger for a little while longer which allows me to be philosophical and introspective rather than outspoken and overtly eager; it also determines the snappiness of my comebacks when it comes to wit. I’m profounder when I’m dapper, outspoken when I’m trim, my fur hides the tiny emotions, my eyes reveal my grin. See?
This is just one part, Purba Ma'am has graciously accepted to publish my off-handed defense of the staches on her blog space and I recommend, you paid her a visit. The post can be read here [A-Musing].
Also, there is a large, and I think more responsible discourse on this issue that I wrote while researching on the topic. You can read it in parts on the following links: