Why no good TV?

In her latest piece for Newslaundry, my frenemy* Rajyashree Sen fondly reminisces on the hugely popular Mad Men, and on what makes the show great. And then she goes on to… compare it with Indian (read: Hindi) TV shows. Without taking anything away from the points she makes in the article - which you can read here - as of 2015 pointing out the poor quality of television content in India is a lot like saying there are potholes on Mumbai roads. Great observation, Sherlock!

These days it seems anyone writing an opinion piece on Indian TV shows has pretty much the same thing to say - it was good in the 80s, somewhat good in the 90s and then Ekta Kapoor. Yes, we get it. A certain kind of daily show hijacked prime time television and we all bleed for Buniyaad. Why is nobody talking about why things are the way they are? It’s no rocket science - the reason is glaringly obvious, and so is the solution.

We need to kill the daily format.

Cover me up quick!

Last year during the FIFA World Cup, I toured Brazil for a month with my husband. Since coming back, I've developed the subtle art of slipping in a Brazil anecdote in to most conversations. Like during a chat about office attire, I mentioned how cool and liberating it was to roam around in my shorts everywhere in Brazil, even in public transport. There was the whole body image thing - in India, even in a place like Mumbai, only girls with perfect bodies wear skin-baring clothes. The heavier girls and women, like me, favor long shapeless outfits that modestly cover the butt. In Brazil, women carry themselves proudly, wear comfortable clothes, wear their hair pretty. Rubs off on you.

And then there was the.... absence of staring. Wearing shorts in the sweltering heat seemed like a very natural, sensible thing in Brazil. Nobody cared if your thighs were showing. I mentioned this to my colleagues, as a very practical matter of dressing as per the weather. And one colleague contributed this little gem of wisdom -

"You try dressing like that on public transport here in India, and you'll be raped before you reach home."

Yeah, this isn't about Brazil or fashion - this is about rape and victim-blaming. But I had to slip in Brazil in that conversation.

Anyway, here, in no particular order, are things I've heard/read over the years.

Woman in my office, in the wake of Delhi gang rape:
 "You should see the way those women dress. What else can you expect?"

Senior (female) in my college, spotting me on walk back to the hostel:
"What the hell were you doing on that road? You'll get raped and come home crying."

Prominent Godman (now behind bar on rape charges) on Delhi rape victim:
"Should have called them Bhaiyya, pleaded with them."

Random well-meaning older woman, commenting on my dress:
"You should be more careful, you know. Apni izzat apne haath mein."

My mother, about the center spread in fashion magazine:
"These are the women who provoke."

Amitabh Bacchan (cop) to Zeenat Aman (complainant in eve teasing case) and 300 random extras (party guests):
Badi Khoobsurat Haseen Ek Ladki
Jawani Ki Dhoon Mein Chali Ja Rahi Thi
Fakat Naam Ko Usne Pehne The Kapde
Ajanta Ki Moorat Nazar Aa Rahi Thi
Koi Manchala Usse Takra Gaya
Mere Doston, Kuch Karo Faisla
Khataa Kiski Hai, Kisko De Hum Sazaa?

Question on Quora:
Rapes in India: Are we hypocrites when we say girls can wear whatever they want, but we keep our wallets in front pockets as a precautionary measure?

My friends, the first time we watched images of Mangalore bar assault:
"Come on, the TV channel will hyping this now. I'm sure this is not the complete story. Those guys must have found out something about these girls."

My friend in class 9, about Navratri in our hometown in Gujarat (they used to dance till the dawn before the time constraint laws came in):
"I can never imagine my mother letting me go out like this. I mean aren't these girls' parents worried?"

Guy in my class, when I confessed I'm sometimes nervous walking home alone because some of our senior girls got harassed recently:
"See, 'normal' girls don't get teased or harassed. It's only when girls try to be something more..."

Girl in class 8 to another girl who had picked a fight with one of the guys:
"Just calm down and don't mess with the boys. You never know what they could do to you."

Renowned female gynecologist in book on women, 15 to 65:
"End of the day, it's the women who suffer and bear the scars."

Senior (male) colleague, on the Tejpal scandal:
"Well I never take these stories on face value. You don't know what a scorned woman is capable of." (I told him the longer version of the story, the version not reported in mainstream media. He took his words back.)

Rajyashree Sen on Newslaundry, about American girl's article on her traumatizing experience of India:
"I’ve lived on my own in Mumbai and Delhi ever since I was 22 years old. It’s not that anything untoward has not happened to me because I’m blessed and born under the right stars or safe because I don’t have red hair, blue eyes and white skin. It’s because I’m very careful in the way I behave and dress in public, on the streets. This is the price you pay for living in India – especially as a single woman. You must be constantly vigilant."



*****


None of the people quoted above is a rapist, to the best of my knowledge. But sure, let's ban the documentary. What was it the rapist was saying in the video, again?

*****

Bonus - 7 politicians whose rhetoric beats that of Mukesh Singh:
http://www.thepoliticalindian.com/indias-daughter-documentary/

Open letter to AIB

Dear Ashish, Tanmay, Khamba and Rohan,

I have been debating whether or not to write to you for the longest time - after all, we are not friends. You guys don't know me, and I don't know any of you personally. I'm just a fan, a fan who didn't show up for your Big Night because the ticket prices were too steep. I kept meaning to catch the video on YouTube until it was taken down, and then I couldn't watch it (and I would never, EVER watch an illegally streamed copy online, 'coz that would be, you know, illegal).

So what business do I have writing to you, pretending familiarity? And then it hit me - AIB is no longer the obscure podcast I used to listen to at work, pretending to transcribe interviews. AIB is Big. AIB is Famous. I can write an open letter to you guys now, because apparently open letters are quite a thing now.

So here I am, a fan who does not know, and perhaps now, will never know (because I've still not seen the video, pinkie swear) what all the fuss over the Roast is really about. I do know your comedy.

I hold the dubious pride of having known AIB Before They Became Famous. I latched on to Ashish Shakya's HT column before there was AIB, before he even started with stand-up. I watched the first video he posted online of his stint at an Open Mic evening - "Speaking of assholes, I'm North Indian." Over the years, I have followed the growth of adult stand-up comedy in India, always meaning to catch a live show in Mumbai, and religiously tuned in for every update from AIB.

So it was totally, absolutely unsurprising for me that your show was filthy. What actually surprised me in fact, was how dumbstruck it left a lot of people, the fact that a bunch of comedians can get up to a podium and make lewd jokes. Not that I'm a fan of dirty language in my own interactions with anyone - I still get a big adrenaline rush if I so much as let the f-word erupt from my mouth, and when I do it, I do it deliberately, calculated for effect. The f-word does not come naturally to me, not as part of everyday conversation.

But it always felt natural to your comedy. What surprised me more than everybody else's distaste at the content of your show, was the sudden realization that I had been consuming all of this content for all this while without remembering to get offended. And I'm usually quick to take offence. Maybe it didn't affect me because of the inherent understanding that the language of your productions was always just part of the package. I just took it as another layer of the humor, like Mehmood in a 60's comedy speaking in a faux-Hyderabadi dialect, hoping that everything would sound funnier in Hyderabadi. Or like Navin 'Pehchan Kaun?' Prabhakar always talking like a Bar Girl. Or like Munnabhai prefixing each of his pop-philosophical pellets with "bole to...", because everything sounds funnier in bhai-boli. Or like PK speaking in Bhojpuri, because how funny would it be if an alien meted out generic opinions on earthlings in a Bhojpuri accent?

My point being, I always took it for granted that the language was just packaging, and rather beside the point. You guys are performers, and every performer has a persona. And I was always fine with it, because I agreed with the point you made. Okay, not always agreed with everything, but I have at least appreciated the earnestness of your opinions, and the fact that you have never taken the lazy route to dish them out.

In all of the material I've seen coming from any of you guys, whether on your blogs, twitter, YouTube or the original podcasts, you've never accused people of agenda beyond facts in public domain. You have never been degrading to women that I remember of. You have always backed your opinions with facts, not platitudes. You have never posted any sleazy shots of women. You stood on the right side of the Deepika-Times tussle, and took a stand against victim-blaming on the issue of rape. And you have always made yourself the butt of your own jokes more than you did anybody else. The worst sexually explicit image I've seen coming from you has been of four guys having a group orgy. Just the four of you.

Those are the things that matter to me, the gaalis and sexual innuendo notwithstanding. And perhaps you checked some right boxes for a lot of people in the film industry too, to enjoy their support the way you did. Which is perhaps why so many actors, directors and assorted industry-wallas have been so generous with their time to work on your videos, laughing at themselves along with world. This is what has set you apart from other comedy channels on YouTube. The fact that the butt of the joke was in cahoots with you.

I now hear that you have been accused of insulting people - I thought that was the idea. As a contrast, another channel posted a sketch featuring a duplicate Raghu Dixit along with the real Ayushmann Khurana. Raghu was the butt of jokes. Did any of the writers, cast and crew see what was wrong with this? You guys, you had Raghu on your panel to take all the trashing in person. That's the difference.

And funnily enough, a certain respected actor disappointed at you for the content of your show has, just like me, not seen the Roast. Well neither have I. But I have seen your other work. And I can swear upon my honor that you guys are anything but violent. Pinkie swear.

Love,

A fan.

P.S. Not sure if I need to mention this, but I completely and wholeheartedly support AIB, no matter what the outcome of all this madness. Be safe and be strong.

About the Women Against Feminism movement and why it is a good thing

First of all, a brief history.

So this happened:




Which led to this.

Then someone did this and made my day:



Meanwhile, this girl:



grew up to do this:

Naturally, someone responded with this:

And it goes on, with stuff like this, this, and more.

So now that you're up to speed, I'll tell you why as a feminist, all this Women Against Feminism (WAF) business really warms my heart.

First of all, let's take the general grouse everybody - WAFs, chauvinists, orthodox people and men at the receiving end of radical feminism - have against the F word: feminists, they say, in protesting the injustice against women often swing to the other extreme and get unfair to men.

WHAT? Feminists aren't always fair? That... is... so....;

true.

Yeah, there are men-haters, there are women who either in their zeal for service to a true cause, or meanness of their heart, or as a vent against the terrible life they've had, or maybe because they were dropped in a vat of man-hating potion as babies, err too much in the other direction.

Basically this guy with boobs.
Image courtesy: www.comicvine.com

At least I believe there are. I live in a country where a lot of women have never heard of feminism, and the idea of equality between the sexes would be alien to a lot of men as well as women. So the discourse on feminism that I have been exposed to has been substantial, based on some unfortunate realities. I haven't come across a feminist who wants to go about neutering all the men in the vicinity just for the kicks.

I'm making a POINT, people!

But my heart goes out to the men who have suffered blatant prejudice, hatred and abuse just because of their gender. To them I say, "Welcome to the club. We know how it feels."

No, I am not trying to justify the wrongs of the radical feminists on the basis of centuries and centuries of injustice meted out to women. The unfortunate fact is that every social and political movement in history tends to overcompensate the injustices it sets out to fight with equal and opposite injustice. In A Tale Of Two Cities, Charles Dickens views the French Revolution through the intimate lens of a family that finds itself on the wrong side of the class divide both before and after the oppressed classes rise in arms against the aristocrats. Without taking away from the pain and struggle that the revolutionaries had to go through to steel themselves for such a massive uprising, the novel draws focus on how innocent lives get crushed in the battle between the classes. And this was a century and a half before 'collateral damage' became part of popular vocabulary.

In India, caste and religion today have become political identities vying for the biggest piece of the power pie, while the people in whose name the wars are fought continue living under conditions unimaginable to anyone who can read a calendar.

The examples are endless, although none of that justifies that someone calling themselves a feminist should expend their time and energy to add more misery to the world. That is not what feminism set out to do.

The story of social and political movements however, does not end there. The pendulum of social justice keeps swinging until we arrive at some semblance of balance and equilibrium. In Indian politics, this should mean a Utopian future where caste, religion and language no longer define who you are and what is possible for you. When that happens, and I'm one of those optimistic fools who believe that such things can happen in the world, caste-based political parties, reservations, honor killings and stupid politicians will become redundant. It might be a very boring future, because comedians may then have to make jokes about food, but then I'm confident we'll have invented new social evils to keep ourselves amused.

For feminism, the idea of Utopia is a world where your gender does not define what is possible for you. Sure, men will still not be able to have babies, and women will still bleed every month, but beyond the actual biological differences, the forced differences between genders, based on qualities perceived to be feminine or masculine owing to centuries of conditioning, those would be gone. Women will fix their own cars and men will wash their own cups. And feminism will become a meaningless term.

The reason I think WAF is a good thing is simply that I see it as a sign of such a future becoming a reality. If you read through the reasons some of those women are citing for not needing feminism, you'll see that feminism has done its job for them. One woman - I couldn't find that image at the time of posting this - wrote a lengthy sermon on how she treats her sons and daughters equally. The lady in the video above argues that her grouse isn't against the dictionary definition of feminism, but how it actually manifests in the lives of those around her.

This is all very good, for three main reasons: 

1. Like every important social movement, feminism needs to be closely observed, critiqued and held accountable for its actions. Denying this right to anyone, however enlightened or ignorant they might be, goes against the grain of feminism. Also, if some women do not want to associate with a certain label, it is their choice and they are under no obligation to educate themselves on the subject. If they change their mind however, we'll always be right here, quietly burning our bras.
2. At the very least, the WAF movement has sparked off a debate on feminism as it stands today. It is a good opportunity to redraw focus on some of the real issues that make feminism a necessity. Also, if there is the slightest truth in any of those accusations, the feminists may want to take a step back to reassess their priorities and perhaps distance themselves from supporters who may be harming the cause by citing feminism in the wrong context.
3. But most importantly, the very fact that there are women, however few, however hated by the Internet, who really, sincerely think they don't need feminism, who feel they have everything they want in life and don't need to fight for anything, who take their voting rights for granted, who have never known a world where their intellectual capabilities could be judged on the basis of the kind of genitals they were born with... then hurray! Mission accomplished. May I live to see a world where feminism becomes a joke, where its real function will have been fulfilled long ago.

As of now, we live in interesting times. There are more and more male feminists - I know some of them right here in India. There are women standing up for men, and since they have the platform to do so, I take it that these women have received the education, financial freedom and intellectual choice it takes to upload a YouTube video. This may be true only for a tiny number of women in very few countries, but it is happening. The pendulum is swinging back, and it is slowing down near the middle.

Mumbai diaries #1

I'm going to Pune for the weekend, so this morning I came to office with a huge bag containing the week's laundry. Don't judge me, my washing machine is still in Pune and my bathroom here is still confused about its job description, so it keeps pouring water on the outer side of the door. Till ol' bathroom figures out exactly where I conduct my business, no clothes are going to get washed in the Mumbai apartment.

Anyway, since there was no way I was getting anywhere near the local trains with that bag in hand, I took an auto. The autowallah was in a chatty mood, talking now about his home town in UP, then about more cost-effective ways to live and commute comfortably in Mumbai. At a signal under a flyover, we both watched a family of under-bridge dwellers, the mother grooming the girls in fine little dresses to mark the occasion of Navratri. There were other kids about, mostly toddlers, some of them nibbling on biscuits presumably given to them by one of the more charitable passers-by. The youngest, a boy less than two years old was toddling around naked, biscuit in hand. This he offered to one of his sisters, sitting pretty in a princess dress, a tiffin container in her hand decorated with a picture of the Goddess on a bed of marigold petals. Wary of the burning incense sticking out of the container, the little guy tossed the biscuit in it for his sister to eat. The gesture seemed to offend the young lady, who quickly tossed the item on the road, where the baked treat remained, ignored by a brood of homeless kids.

Watching all this, a quick giggle escaped the autowallah, who sagely tells me, "there's someone watching over every one of us. They (the homeless family) will all have eaten something by the end of the day."

Remembering a little incident with a Marathi autowallah some days ago, I asked him if he and his fellow migrants still face problems from political goons here. No, he said, 'those guys' had all cooled down, and now they were all living happily together. He further told me that he voted for the Shiv Sena during the last elections, because he respects Uddhav Thackeray, who comes across as a level headed, educated man.

P.S. By the way I've moved to Mumbai. Working for (what else?) a magazine here.

Patriotism sans jingoism: Bedabrata Pain's Chittagong

Sharing your birthday with historical events can have unexpected perks. On the 72nd anniversary of Quit India Movement, the husband and I spent the evening sitting on cane chairs, watching a special screening of Chittagong at the open air theatre on the rooftop of Seasons Apartment Hotel in Aundh, Pune. This was followed by a lively chat with the film's writer-director, the scientist-turned-filmmaker Bedabrata Pain and the young actor Delzad Hiwale who played a young Subodh Roy 'Jhunku' in the film. I couldn't have thought of a better way to celebrate the bittersweet occasion of turning 32.

The film recounts the movement through Roy's eyes, who was the youngest revolutionary in the movement, and also the youngest Indian to be imprisoned at the dreaded Kaala Pani. Narrated in a flashback by the adult Roy, the story is as much about the journey of a young boy from a rich Indian family who gave up on prospects of a comfortable life for a larger cause, as that of a much-chronicled historical event. By training its focus on the reluctant young revolutionary instead of the enigmatic 'Masterda' Surya Sen (played by the ever dependable Manoj Bajpai), Pain has managed to make the story more personal than most historicals of this sort can hope to be.

We first find Jhunku weakly arguing with his childhood sweetheart Aparna that the British aren't all bad people. His opinion is based on the warm relationship he shares with Magistrate Wilkinson, whose wife gives him piano lessons. At the same time, Jhunku is also in deep awe for Masterda, portrayed here as a much beloved revolutionary with clear ideals, a cool head and an ambitious plan. While the ruthless DIG Charles Johnson goes on an arresting spree, rounding up all the known revolutionaries in the area and depriving the genteel Masterda of his trained resources, the latter recruits young boys with clean records and no training in weaponry in an unprecedented coup to take over the British Armoury. After an incident that leaves Jhunku both disillusioned about the British administrators and discredited among his peers, he throws his lot with the rebels. What follows is this boy's journey from being a reluctant revolutionary to a fervent patriot, and later the leader of another uprising.

Like I wrote before, the film remains a mostly personal story. Jhunku's conversion to the cause is triggered by a personal betrayal, rather than lofty speeches, of which there aren't any in this film. During a moment of weakness when he thinks of running away, what holds him back is the desire to redeem himself in Aparna's eyes. The framing device allows Jhunku to tell Aparna his version of otherwise well-known events. The heroes of the uprising - Surya Sen, Pritilata Waddedar, Nirmal Sen, Ganesh Ghosh, Lokenath Bal and Ananta Singh are portrayed as flesh and blood people with their moments of doubt and strokes of inspiration. The planning and execution of the coup too, is seen as a series of strategic problems in the way of a very specific goal. More than one, you find a revolutionary asserting, "this can be done" with the confidence of a bright student presented with a math problem. So when our heroes blow up a railway track and cut off phone lines, the audience can see it as important steps of a larger plan without a hint of Schadenfreude in destroying public property just because it's set up by the evil angrezz.

By presenting events of the uprising without embellishment, the film stays respectful of the inherent heroism in the ordinary people one sees on screen. In fact, I feel very tempted to write an entire post about all the familiar tropes of movies about the freedom struggle that Chittagong has smoothly steered clear of. Let me see: The soundtrack by Shankar, Ehsaan & Loy is far removed from the thumping beats I have come to associate with these movies. The production design by Samir Chanda lends an earthy tone without being too in-your-face. The narrative is simple, and never tries to turn the story into some sort of a thriller. There is no heroic posturing, no pigtails-in-black-ribbons, no screeching clarion call to fight for freedom, no Wande Mataram moments. What you get instead is a well-researched, ground level view of an important era in the country's history.

How to love and marry, Indian Ishtyle (plus bonus belated review)

Okay so I finally watched Ranjhana, over a year after its release. The whole stalking-as-love debate that the movie kicked off in the blogosphere really put me off. More than the critics who panned the film, it was the passionate defense from the film's supporters in comment sections that really made the call for me - it just didn't sound like a film I might enjoy.

I was wrong. As a film, it has more than a few strong points. The people in the film and their general conduct, or their thought processes weren't necessarily likable. It takes courage to tell the story of two damaged people, and the script does this coldly and distantly enough for the audience to see Kundan and Zoya for what they really are. The self-destructive path they walk in the story feels like the most natural trajectory for their life given their respective personalities. For all the distaste I feel for the way Kundan goes about wrecking havoc in people's lives, I never felt manipulated into liking him, not even with his cutesy act. It is entirely plausible for a person, especially one with limited education and very little exposure to the world outside a provincial life, to be easily likable and genuinely innocent on one hand, as well as unbelievably selfish and thoughtless on the other.

As for Zoya, she comes across as an intelligent woman with her priorities right and her morals all wrong. Again, a film that is about a person of questionable integrity doesn't necessarily endorse those values. As far as I could see, the film follows the inherent tendencies of Zoya and Kundan to their natural and inevitable conclusion.

So there, I've said something good about Ranjhana. Now for the rants.

One of the recurring arguments put forth by the film's sincere supporters in all their outpourings against critics has been this: if what Kundan does in the film is stalking, how else do you get a girl to like you in a quintessential Indian city? One particular Pro-Ranjhana dude asked a female reviewer to consider how her parents and grandparents went about the pursuit of love and romance, given that the 'western' way of 'dating' wasn't really an option.

Okay, old debate, and the reviewer in question answered to the comment appropriately, but I'll add my twopence anyway. My parents and grandparents had arranged marriages. That's the old, Indian way. There are of course, a lot of people who do not believe in western concepts, as you call them, such as dating, but have gone ahead and married for love in most conservative Indian families too.

So for the benefit of all my Indian brothers and sisters, here are some quick tips to fall in love and get your happily-ever-after, the good Indian way. No slashing of wrists, no terrorizing or annoying people of the opposite sex involved. Satisfaction guaranteed, in that none of you should hopefully end up in a loony bin or a hospital bed.

Option 1
You like a girl/guy, you try to chat them up or have some common acquaintance convey your interest and if they reciprocate, you proceed with romance-wedding-happily-ever-after. If they don't, you move on.

Option 2
You like a guy/girl, you tell your parents to talk to their parents and have a sweet little arranged marriage in true Barjatya tradition. Might involve families setting conditions/challenges a la Alok Nath in Maine Pyaar Kiya before sweet union may be achieved.

Option 3
In case one of the families doesn't approve, get the blessings of the other family, act fast, have a simple wedding, and wait for the disapproving family to cool off. Not recommended if caste/religion are involved.

Option 4
Wait for the disapproving family to have a change of heart. This is a boring, non-film-worthy path that takes a lot of patience and perseverance, tests your love to the extreme, and doesn't leave you with a charming little story to tell your great-grandkids. I mean, no kids want to hear a story where the prince and princess go about their lives for 7 long years before having another traditional Indian wedding. But I've known at least one couple to do just that, and theirs is as true a love as any I've known.

Option 5
You like someone, they like you back but are reluctant to commit due to social restraints, you hang around and try to convince them of the power of love to overcome all obstacles, all the while respecting their boundaries.

Option 6
You like someone, they don't know you exist, you grow up and fall in love with someone you actually know a thing or two about.

Caution:

Whatever you do,

1. DO NOT use any form of letter, social media, phone calls, or any mode of communication that may potentially embarrass the other party in their respective social circles. More importantly, do not use any medium where you'll end up leaving a blazing trail and embarrass yourself, or get into trouble.
2. DO NOT make a fool of yourself. Seriously. It does not look sexy.
3. Not looking sexy is NOT one of the sacrifices you make for true love. Not if having sex anytime in the future is on your agenda.
4. DO NOT use pickup lines out of How I Met Your Mother or any Hollywood/Bollywood product. They don't work. Use your words.
5. DO NOT be a pest. A pest is someone who lingers around another person when the latter clearly does not want them around
6. If someone tells you or behaves like they don't want you around, there's a 99.99% chance they don't. Have dignity and seek affection somewhere else.
7. Have dignity.

All the best, and may you have your happy ending and lots of children and grandchildren to listen to your charming lies.