An Open Letter to the Indian Man

Dear Son of India,

Bhumiputra, Descendant of Manu, Muhammad, Zoroaster, et al,

Forgive the group missive, but I’m writing on matters of considerable import. There is a malign force growing against you in the world. Surely, you must have felt it? As you walk down the street going about your business, or even as you sit at a street corner, whiling away the day. Whether you live at home or abroad, with your parents or alone—have you not felt drills being bored into you by people watching and judging you? All the usual adulation surrounding your maleness, tarnished now, into something quite questionable. And for those of you who have enjoyed the harmless habit of staring in the past, isn’t it strange to go from starer to staree? The way women regard you now—foreign women, particularly, but even your Indian sisters—with so much fear and loathing!

I wonder whether there has been any mobilisation among your fellow men; an acknowledgment that things are changing and must continue to change? All this talk of the crisis in Indian masculinity. What will you say to the people who voice their accusations? What will be your mantra?

Dear brothers, I write to you because these are dark times, and it is up to you to take back the streets, to reframe the dialogue, to say enough is enough. Hardly an hour goes by without some member of your tribe letting loose his vacuous tongue, or worse, defiling a woman. Will this come to be what is expected or known of you? I say ‘no’. Let this be the cue for the start of the Indian Male-Volution, or do you prefer, Indian Menemists? (We can’t decide which is better. Tweet us your thoughts).

There are several problems to tackle, but the largest one is of representation. Do you care how you are viewed on the World Wide Web? Google, ‘Indian man images’, and you’ll see how you are subdivided like categories of cattle: ‘Handsome’, ‘Standing’, ‘Attractive’, ‘Business’, ‘Traditional’ and ‘Most Handsome’.

Do you recognise yourself in this gallery? Is Duggu really the ideal of manly pulchritude in this great peninsula of ours? If so, no offence, but really?

While we’re on the subject, can I just steer you briefly towards manscaping? We’re curious to hear your thoughts. What does hair removal mean to you? Are you a practitioner? Do you view it as sexy, rugged, effeminate or a waste of time? We’re eager to hear from all of you—regardless of whether you’re in the Anil Kapoor circa Mr India camp or the Duggu camp. Please do not send topless pictures! Just tell us about your experience. We hope to create a database that will encompass all topics of manhood with the hope of resuscitating the ailing image of the Indian man.

Coming back to more serious matters: Does it concern you that the words most associated with Indian Men are ‘rape’ and ‘cricket’? This makes you all out to be a bunch of bat-holding Neanderthals who rape 71-year-old nuns. Is it conscionable that the rest of you have to bear the burden for this kind of depravity?

For those of you who are reading this but not following me at all; for whom the words ‘German Professor Leipzig’, ‘India’s Daughter’ and ‘Nirbhaya’ are just a collection of sounds that are confusing, please call the ‘Hotline’ number in order to organise one-on-one counselling immediately.

Let me pause here because I can hear some dissension in the ranks. Some of you are saying, ‘Who the hell are you to patronise us? What are your motivations, really? And do you have any credentials?’

Allow me to flash a glimpse of my soul so I can gain your trust. I’ve lived most of my life in India, and from the start, have been surrounded by wonderful male figures, of which the most wonderful is my father. (Yes, I’ll concede, a bit of an Electra Complex). The majority of my boyfriends (yup, I’m one of ‘those’ kind of women) have been Indian, and have by and large been excellent experiences. In fact, most of my interactions with Indian men, barring the occasional lousy, creepy, rat-bag stranger, have been within the boundaries of mutual respect and propriety. Now might be a good time to say this: Parikshit Shukla, I’m sorry for chasing you around school in the 8th standard. It was mean and constitutes for harassment, and I hope it didn’t scar you terribly.

I do, however, bear scars of my own, and in the spirit of sharing, which is so crucial to our cause, I’d like to publicly put forward two complaints against Indian men. The first was a swimming coach at the Connemara Hotel who practised groin-rubbing underwater. I was seven or eight at the time. The second, I’m ashamed to say, was my first ‘love,’ a guy called Anand Jon. If you’re thinking ‘Isn’t that the fashion designer who’s serving a life sentence in Los Angeles for multiple counts of rape and sexual assault against minors?’ then that’s the ticket. I don’t want to dwell on it, because I still suffer spasms of humiliation when I hear his name, and frequently corner the ghost of my teenage self demanding explanations for her demented behaviour. It’s just one of those things that can hold you back in life. A real conversation stopper. Yeah, so, my first boyfriend is a sex-offender. That, coupled with, and I’m a poet, gets people edging away real fast.

But all that’s in the past. I mention it here not for shock effect, but to claim solidarity. I don’t judge an entire species on the basis of two negative, isolated experiences. I Will Survive, etcetera, etcetera. We all carry our shame. Some of it, unimaginable, the rest, just embarrassing. But we must live, breathe, continue.

To this end, we are interested in hearing your stories of indignity to help us understand you better. Much of the national conversation surrounding shame is primarily viewed through the prism of womanhood. So much so that the prevailing belief is that shame in a patriarchy travels only in one direction—male to female. Isn’t it time to rectify this limiting and erroneous idea? Don’t people know the amount of mollycoddling the average Indian male has to have to survive? And even if you did manage to get past your mother’s breast into the larger world, do they have any idea what it means to be a man in a country that worships lingams? That celebrates the birth of a boy with enough laddoos to instigate a diabetic attack? That kind of power does crazy things to the head. And what? You’re supposed to be greater, cleverer, and generally more fantastic, all because you have an appendage between your legs? That’s a lot of pressure! Let’s leave aside phallic narcissism and castration anxiety for a second. How many people have even heard of Dhat Syndrome? Isn’t it obvious that some amount of sexual dysfunction, neurosis, anxiety and depression would accompany all that male power?

So, here’s the thing. It’s time we heard from you. Not the psychos who want to set their daughters alight with kerosene for engaging in premarital sex, but those of you who are actually sentient beings. For those of you who have stories of your own, who want to point fingers and name your shamers—we want to hear about your suffering. We want to know what makes you lie awake with wonder, what your fears are, what stops you from being truly emancipated. Don’t succumb to hegemonic masculinity. Let it all out. Be the best man you can be!

I send this out as a comrade in equality, as a lover not a misandrist: Will the real Indian man please stand up?

Hello, hello! Are you still with me? Some of you may be saying, ‘All this sounds very nice but how do we actually do it? How do we go from what is expected of us to what we’d like to be? How do we battle loneliness? How do we reach across the divide and tell our parents, lovers, wives, that we’d actually like to be dancers not bankers, or vice-versa? How should we behave with women, men, transgenders? How do we get legislation to protect men from violence?’

All these are valid questions and the board is currently putting together a list of FAQs for the website. In the interim, though, you must use your imagination. Walk a mile in another person’s shoes. Remember that Respect, Responsibility and Self-determination lie at the core of our movement, and once these three elements are aligned, you will waft into the world with renewed splendour.

PS: Mothers who are reading this (I know some of you are), it’s time to step away from your sons. Snip those apron strings and heave your mighty shadow back into the forest of individuality. Remember the person you were before you became a mother? Try to re-acquaint yourself with her. You want him to be a prince? So would we. But being a prince is so much harder than being a princess. A prince has to be firm yet tender, emotionally available yet mysterious, virile but humble, and if Walt Disney is to be believed, he has to do all this while wearing tights. It’s not easy! This transformative period of what our men should be like and are becoming needs to be determined by them—not by Disney or the Ramayana, or Bollywood. And certainly not by his mother. So, please, join us in our battle! Acknowledge your role as being somewhat overbearing and complicated, and worry not—if you make this slight retreat, your influence will still be strong. Our dying words will continue to be: ‘Ma!’

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