Though,traditionally,the western world regards Indian women to be the submissive,meeky, shy, hiding-behind the curtain cloth type , there was always the dormant alter-ego which was battling the constraints of conventionalism and the great Indian propriety. You can't complain the Whites either for their conception, when we ourselves served fodder with our practises.
Adhering to the societal dignity of their family, the Indian wives were bound to defend and espouse their husbands even in the face of a misdeed commited by him which brings shame to the same 'dignity' she is protecting. Men, were thus immune from losing the respect of the world. He never mulled over the kind of grief and embarrasment his lady may be subjected to.
In the event of a skirmish between the two, the society always held the women responsible. According to the incontrovertible union of ageing grey-haired parents and in-laws, men must stay pervicacious and women must make the effort to bury the hatchet. The effort may vary from spending hours in the kitchen scrambling over innumerable culinary delicacies; weighing the odds on the number of tinches of salt or sesame her 'better-half' may prefer , to making herself look pleasing by smearing her face with extra talc or festooning her braided hair with aromatic lily flowers. The man's adamance quells, and everything rolls back to the quasi-hunky-dory at home.
By the turn of the 80s, this narration wasn't to be. The emancipation arrived in the form of televisions. Once reserved to the sleeveless mommy-darling rotary women's clubs and societies, TV sets gradually found their way into the middle-class homes. Along with it came unexplored lifestyles , cultures and possibilities. The once stereotyped frail, timid and pusillanimous figure was now a strong, aplomb, and guileful woman who had the wit to challenge the conventions of the aforesaid 'incontrovertible union'. Women could never again be kept in the dark on whom is she going to spend her lifetime with.
She was enchanted by the hippie of Boris Becker dancing in resonance to his tennis rackets. She was mesmerized by the baby-faced Aamir Khan singing Papa Kehthe hain Bada Naam Karega at his fairwell party. Hearts were shattered when Ravi Shastri's alleged affair with Amrita Singh came to the limelight. Hours were spent on sympathising with Demi Moore for losing her soul-mate, the then heart-throb Patrick Swayze in the 1991 supernatural drama Ghost(it was also rumored the same women wept for hours when Cancer claimed him in '09). They witnessed the transition of Shahrukh Khan from being a soapstar(as Raghavan in Aziz Mirza's soap drama Circus and the excellent Fauji) to arguably the most sought-after actor in Asian cinema.
Bollywood & pop culture were deeply ingrained in the women of the 80s , and contributed ardently to the empowerment of the inept Indian woman. Must say,it wasn't stagnant. The confidence and out-spokenness grew proportional to the number of TV channels they were exposed to.
Love has always been(and still is) considered a taboo. Irrespective of the quantum of westernisation that has been afflicted upon, the Indian daddies and mommies still find it bonkers and precarious for their baby dolls. They still make much ado for the most inanest of issues like a guy calling their baby doll at 12 noon. The girls had to unwillingly friendzone every single guy who proposed them. The sheer thought of what lay ahead(estrangement was the traditional curse), if a love letter was found in her room in one of those lightning raids their rooms were subjected to sporadically, made them aghast.
But many skillfully managed to outfox their parents.
Now here comes the real downside of the disproportionate exposure to arts and culture they received. On one side we have girls who desperately want to fall in love but can't fly out of their nests , while on the other , we have girls who face no hassles BUT SET BLOODY CRITERIA ON THEIR PREFERENCE.
In the 90s, picturising every men they meet to be Rajiv Gandhi or Aamir Khan or Ravi Shastri became ubiquitous. In the 2000s , it evolved into the Ik Pal Ka Jeena hunky Hrithik Roshan with shirt-tearing bisceps. Poor lads spent hours working on the iconic step from his debut Kaho Na Pyaar Hai. The egg and protein supplement sale in soared to an all time high, with production units abroad not able to the satiate the highly demanding Indian markets. I don't know of what happened to those locale Kapoors and Roshans, but I can say this with conviction that all those chicks who demanded the unlikely from those poor desi-boys , married off an IT dawg their parent's matchmade for them after rigorous consultations on the alignment, collision and annihilation of the celestial bodies(and the girl) which they claim has the life-map of every single Hindu in India. Those dames put the lives of my desi boys on the rocks. *Sad Music on Violin, play*
I cannot empathize with them as they belonged to another era (Yes. I am coming to it! :D).
2010s
10 years is a pretty long time.
Times have changed.
Winds have changed.
IT boom is over.
*Cricket has evolved so much that no more Ravi Shastris can demoralize the minds of people.
*R.I.P Rajiv Gandhi and thankfully your son is so dumb that he is almost innocuous to the common man.
*Hrithik Roshan got hitched to Suzanne(much after the aforementioned dames spoiled the lives of desi boys).
*Shahrukh Khan from being an innocent soap-star has become a supreme celebrity who has bought humungous awards on the way(You read me right).
Succinctly putting forth, almost everything palpable thing has undergone a change or two .(Talking about change,gritty red-eyed bus conductors threaten you if don't have 'change'. That is a change from the conventional system of 'change' , from which you can infer the change the world has undergone).
But something hasn't. . . .
Voíla! WOMEN AND THEIR F*%#ING CHOICES WHEN IT COMES TO MEN!
Even when they spend their Daddy's hard-earned quids on Colonel Sander's corrupted recipe on hens , which they now serve in red coloured buckets and tanks, they are turning a blind eye to the fact that these hens feed on the same WORMS , REPTILES , LIZARDS , SPIDERS , ROACHES which supposedly "freak" these people out. I can't fathom the psychosis which is leading to this paranoia for harmless life-forms, among these pampered sweethearts.
From where I see it , these pink-loving, real life adaptation of Barbie dolls have crossed many major wide stretches of oceans and seas like the Arabian Sea, Red Sea, Medeterranian Sea , Atlantic ocean to reach the land of self-glorification and head-quarters of global patrolling and jassoosi(Snooping) ; the land which the India Inc, lovingly calls Uncle Sam : U.S of A.
As a dilligent and empathetic representative of the Federation of All Desperate and Heart-Broken Indian Men(FADHBIM) , I had like to bring to your notice that Hollywood hills in L.A harbours the two greatest modern day nemesis of our league : Channing Tatum and Ryan Gosling.
Not a day passes by for the cheedly-cuddly-cutie sweethearts without chanting the names of these Greek Gods. Acceptable.
But how on earth can they expect us, the rice-eating, chaa-drinking, apathetic, lazy arsed, dark desi laadlaas to be their Ryan Goslings and Channing tatums? As the facade of the FADHBIM , I strongly detest and protest your demand. What will become of our boys, in that case?
(Ornob Goshwaamy incoming)
Never ever , ever ever , juxtapose a desi boy with your white trash heart-throbs. We belong to a class of our own. And the nation needs an answer tonight! *Fuming Ornob*
Shaanth ho jaao Arnab baba, aapki madad chaahiye toh hum bilkul bula lenge. Aap jaakar Congress or BJP ki vaat lagaiye. Sachi , hum sambhaalenge. ( What the hell does this married nut-crack want?! -.-)
Let this be the clarion call , Ladies.
- We desis live in a tropical country. We are exposed to the raw sun while alternating between one line bus to the other. We reside in chimney cities like Mumbai and Delhi. It is unwise of you to expect us to be fair and handsome.
- We eat roti, sambhar, curd-rice, idly-vadai, et al. If you are large hearted enough to supply us with imported sushi, sashimi, pancakes, pasta and meat balls, we will be very glad to be your Gosling or Tatum.
- Asking broke desi boys to overhaul their drink from Rum or Whiskey to shots of Vodka or Martini is like asking the Congress Party to choose a better Prime Minister than Manmohan Singh.
Despite of all these handicaps , we will not let anything happen to you. We will defend you with all our strength and will power, unlike Gosling and Tatum. With Gosling and Tatum, all women suffer very bad. Rachel McAdams suffered memory losses with both of them , in The Notebook and The Vow respectively. So it is safe to assume that both of those sulking bastards would cast a spell on you for Box Office gains.
But we never do that. We don't have anything to gain out of anything. We are jobless, basically. Oops. *Puppy Dog Eyes*
On a wrap-up note , there are always exceptions. There are women out there who aren't visceral and who don't set these boorish benchmarks. There are men like-wise who can be accomodative and affable. (And sometimes good-looking as well !) Albeit habits like friendzoning, brotherzoning(which smothers our fellow Desi boys to death) will die hard, we are the most optimistic of people in the world. "I have a dream that one day, girls will put down the false dread for harmless life-forms, so that we men can comfort them from the heart. I also have a dream that the sly propaganda by Hollywood will be put to rest by U.S of A's own racist , obese, fast-food binging women. I also have a dream that our Desi Boys will have better luck than being friendzoned and brotherzoned."
...faint echoes of Ornob thundering..
..How dare you question the integrity of Indian Men?! I'm taking the charge to the women community of the country! The nation needs an answer...
N.B : This is a material of pure fiction and any act of derogation is not intentional and I deeply regret if I have provoked the sentiments of any gender.