All India Bigotry (The Real #AIB)

We are a nation of bigots, whether you want to accept it or not. Our levels of self-censorship are so convoluted and farcical, that we ourselves won’t be able to explain the logic of our mindsets and how we view the paradigms of what is socially acceptable and what is not. The same man who sees himself as a victim of economic disparity in the country and human exploitation at the workplace has no qualms about abusing and physically taxing his domestic help or those under him. The same person who is a devout God-fearing disciple of some or the other form of God dupes himself by thinking he can wash away his sins by offering donations at some temple or charitable concern. The same person who practices pre-marital sex wants a virgin wife after marriage. We are the same nation that censors porn but welcomes the pin-up girl Sunny Leone to strut her stuff in item songs and live shows. And while we go all out to make a mockery of the very values we preach so hard, we can’t stand anyone with a sense of humour.

We are the same nation whose Broadcasting Board translates crap or bullshit as nonsense as it is not appropriate content for universal television viewing. Of course, we can say MC, BC and CH to the whole world when something goes wrong in our lives without turning around to see who is listening. Mr. Aamir Self-Righteous Khan does not like profanity as a form of comedy as he thinks he is beyond that age when he can laugh at such things. Much has been said about his production Delhi Belly using words like D K Bose and Jaa Chudail which got very popular in the name of entertainment. Of course the wonderful part of India is it is a free country and Mr. Khan is entitled to his opinion. It is indeed odd that in such a stringent scenario, AIB decided to host a live show where 4000 spectators were in audience, and much foul language, sexual innuendos and pointed jokes about people’s skin colour, bedroom antics and physical features were cracked.  While the culprits of the act seemed to have a ball and have won much support among youngsters for their act of bravado in a sexually and morally repressed nation; detractors have left no stone unturned to condemn them.

As a country that is demographically dominated by the youth, we need to be careful of what we are putting up there for public viewing, no doubt about that. And the AIB Roast is a great idea and attempt to mock-criticise people on a panel in a mutually rib-tickling manner. The question is: Would it be less funny if done without verbal abuse or casting aspersions at someone’s dark skin or dissecting a star’s private life, leaving it bare and out there in the open to be derided? Doesn’t this license such behaviour among friends, with colleagues and bosses, from neighbours or family? Would we accept and validate such humour in our daily lives? So let’s not applaud AIB yet. It has got the mood and momentum going, but there is a thin line between dirty and witty. Let’s not cross it as with the power to influence young minds, comes immense responsibility. To be honest, I laughed hard at most of the jokes cracked that evening but I’d anyday prefer Barely Speaking With Arnub by The Viral Fever. The verbose megalomaniac of a host on that show attacks without hitting below the belt. The Vigil Idiot's way of downsizing Hindi potboilers gets me rolling on the floor laughing. Then again, I hope it stays that way.

Let’s try and enjoy laughing at the lighter side of life. Open our minds to calling a spade a spade but not at someone’s expense. And also understand that pop culture is a direct reflection of the times we live in.  Ask Yo Yo Honey Singh. The poor chap only sings about partying, alcohol and scantily clad aspirational women who dope shope and are out to have a ball (no pun intended) and he gets brickbats for his ‘ashleel’ lyrics. I know a whole generation which lives exactly by his definition of having a good time. But it is much easier to chastise Honey Singh for it, right?

The Pihu Diary- The woods are dark & deep and I have promises to keep…

Nothing can punctuate the joy of having a baby girl as part of your family. In a country like ours, that statement itself is debatable across class, community and region. However, having been brought up in a liberated setting where my parents never stopped me from chasing my dreams, gave me wings to fly and the best of everything in the right doses so I knew how to cherish them, I never felt inferior to my male counterparts. As daughters, we were never conditioned to believe that we must be submissive, sacrificing and soft-hearted. We were asked to pursue a career, choose a husband of our liking and have the guts to make a life of our own.  The world outside was a different ballgame altogether. Come puberty and we were suddenly assaulted with the harsh truth that every woman has to face. Groping hands, frisky fingers, lecherous eyes, stalking strangers, dirty talking oldies…being out on your own meant facing all this and more.

In most instances, I would tell my Mom about the painful incident, each time she would get infuriated, angsty and then look helpless. I soon realized that if I had to survive the mad jungle of desperate creeps, I would have to set a few norms for myself. So yes, there have been times when I have hailed a cab on a deserted lane at night and felt perfectly comfortable doing it and at other times stood at a shady bus-stop and felt mentally raped by the men standing with me in broad daylight. But I also remember incidents where I have walked the streets of Bandra at 1 am in the night with a female friend or sat in a bus at 11 pm at night with a few stray men for company and yet never felt like cringing. Being in Mumbai, a city considered as one of the safest for women, I knew I had it easier than most women in other cities of India and yet, I have never taken that freedom for granted. A woman must watch her back no matter where she is, this I knew instinctually and is a lesson learnt for life. So when I knew I was late in reaching home, I used to make sure I drop down at a busy station nearest to my place and then rick it home. Or stay back at a friend’s when I was partying or drinking late with friends. I knew my parents trusted me to be responsible and I was too grateful for their faith in me to ever let them down.

Now when I am a mother myself, I strangely don’t feel so self-assured about giving the same liberty to my daughter. I wish I could be as cool and nonchalant as my Mom about Pihu going out in the world and paving her destiny. But here I am, worried sick about who she hangs out with, which crèche is safe enough, any malicious entity touching or harming her, any stranger on the road luring her with a chocolate in to a discreetly positioned car parked in an alleyway, that old sleazy looking professor giving her the lascivious looks, that gym instructor who gets too close for comfort while she works out, the doctor who wants to give her a private examination. She must be protected at all times! From lewd comments, lusty eyes, fidgety hands, irrepressible urges…at home, in office, at a bar, on a road, in a car, on a holiday…how do I ensure that she will never come to harm? How will I ever face her if I fail? How can I justify bringing her in to a world which treats her like a potential target for sexual violence? A country where she will get no respect for her achievements; rather be ogled at for being a woman.

We are a country of big time bigotry. How else does a rapist go home to his wife and play the adorable husband? How does such a man touch his mom’s feet? What is he thinking when he sends off his sister to her husband’s place? How is the son of a rapist going to learn to give a woman her rightful place in his life? We don’t know what we are doing to our women and how it will affect our future generations. For a ‪#‎swachhBharat to exist we will have to start with the cleansing of the minds of the men in this country. Starting with the men at home is the first step. Making sure the cleanliness drive reaches the remotest parts of India is an ambition we must fulfill if we are to call our nation ‘our motherland’ and be able to do so with respect to its women.

I am confident that there will come a day when my little butterfly will be able to take flight with her wings intact, her eyes set on a goal she has her hopes set on and I can let go, without getting intimidated or anxious about which net could ensnare and wound her.

After all, she has the right to fly. Now all I need is room to breathe easy when she does.