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  Copyright © 2014 Shobhaa Dé

  who asserts the moral right to be identified

  as the author this work

  The views and opinions expressed in this book are the author’s

  own and the facts are as reported by her, which have been verified

  to the extent possible, and the publishers are not in any way

  liable for the same.

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  Designed at

  Hay House India

  ISBN 978-93-81431-91-7

  Printed and bound at

  Thomson Press (India) Ltd., Faridabad, Haryana (India)

  To

  Lord Ganesha … in gratitude.

  And, my husband Dilip … for helping me navigate

  through life without hurting myself.

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgements

  My Thoughts

  One

  Movies, Mirch, Masala

  1. Himbettes!!

  2. ‘OMG! Bollywood Types Have Brains!’

  3. Bollywood Friendships

  4. Curve it Like Koena …

  5. She dares … Who Bares …

  6. Sunny Days are Here Again …

  7. Izzat-Vizzat

  8. Strange But True!

  9. Chak De, Gals!

  10. Rat ‘Race’?

  11. Dare to be Dev D

  12. Sex, Aaj Kal

  13. ‘Sex and our Cities’

  Two

  ‘O’ and More: Women Unlimited

  14. Guns and Roses!

  15. O Maria!

  16. Full Disclosure

  17. Women with Magic Fingers

  18. It’s all in the Bag!

  19. Where Are All the Good Women?

  20. Mothers-in-Law

  21. Women Over 40

  22. Why We Love Mary Kom …

  23. Women and Wheels …

  24. Love and Self-loathing …

  25. Women Under Assault

  26. Will You Be My Valentine, Pramod Muthalik?

  27. Have Gun. Will Rape.

  28. Bloggers’ Stop

  29. Scarred for Life

  30. Dusky and Lovely

  31. A ‘Rakhel’ By Any Other Name

  32. Beware, the Corporate Bladder …

  33. Career Gals Who Give Up

  34. Nobel Thoughts …

  35. Why We Love Sachin’s Wife

  Three

  The Sexes

  36. Married … and Bored!

  37. Slutwalk? No thanks!

  38. When a ‘Heroine’ gets Preggers

  39. Have Women Forgotten How To Flirt?

  40. Is Paris Burning?

  41. Michelle (Obama) Wows India!

  42. Shaadi ka Mahina … Mahi Ve!!

  43. Inspirational Women of the World

  44. Belle of the Management Ball

  Four

  The High and Lows of the Menfolk

  45. Why Males Attack Women?

  46. Far From ‘Gay’

  47. Dirty Old Desi Men

  48. The Invaluables

  49. M.F. Hussain: The Original Lover Boy

  50. (dis) Enchanted Rushdie

  51. Beating the Retreat … Rahul Mahajan style!

  52. Mere Paas Maa Hai!

  53. Male Bashing

  54. The Bulge and Beyond

  55. Gandhiji – a ‘Gay’ Icon? Why not?

  Five

  Aam Aadmi versus Those in Power

  56. Rascalam of all Rascalams

  57. Bankers or Bonkers?

  58. Sharam Karo, Bhai, Sharam Karo

  59. When News Anchors Become the News

  Six

  The Ones That Influence

  60. Lame Duck Prime Minister

  61. Why Kiran Bedi …?

  62. Modi’s Master Plan

  63. Here Goes bin Laden!

  64. Only Raavans in India. Where’s Ram …?

  65. Casting Couch in Politics

  Seven

  Getting There: The Teen Years

  66. Ms. Teen Monsters

  67. Guess Who’s Playing Rugby … and Winning?

  68. Hello! Is Anyone Listening …?

  69. Babies As Fashion Accessories

  70. Lolita is Alive and Well

  Eight

  Bed N Beyond

  71. The ‘D – Gang’

  72. Looking for a Good ‘Future Wife’…

  73. Shubha Mangalam at 60 …!

  74. Pati, Patni Aur Woh

  Nine

  Of This, That, and the Other

  75. Indian Independence

  76. Battle Hymn of the Pussycat Mother

  77. Paani Puri Politics …!

  78. Rajiv Gandhi – Style Bhai!

  79. Intellectual Whores and Bloody Bores

  80. How about it, Sir-ji?

  81. Power and Sex …

  82. Jump! And Save Yourself…

  83. Life Begins at 80…!

  84. Too Handsome For His Own Good!

  85. 26 Ways to be Happy

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  My most amazing, 30-year-old bond with the Mathew family is sealed with dry Kerala beef! Let me just say, it’s a family recipe the lady of the house should go public with! I love and respect my long standing association with the Malayalam Manorama Group. ‘The Sexes’ has given me an enviable reach and a credible platform for the past three decades. I value our relationship and I hope I continue to stay in their good books … for the dry beef, and much else!

  TRG is possibly one of India’s most erudite and respected editors. Most importantly, he is my buddy. I thank him for his affection over the years. The column was started (and continues) largely because of his sweet words of praise.

  Ashok Chopra … what can I say about this man with twinkling eyes and a scary sense of observation? His quiet strength and determination, his innate confidence and resolve to publish books he believes in … all these lovely qualities have provided much needed nurturing to countless authors. I owe him a big one – as his author, and an even bigger one – as his friend.

  MY THOUGHTS

  Prolific is a loaded word. I am wary of it. I never know how to react when someone comes up to me and announces chattily, ‘My goodness! You are so prolific!’ Is the person paying me a genuine compliment? Being sarcastic? Stating the obvious? Or subtly criticizing me? Writers are thin skinned creatures. They are always looking for hidden meanings in the most innocuous of comments. They forget that the rest of the world may not be as obsessed with words. Their own or anybody else’s. Words are powerful and lethal. They leave permanent footprints. Words have an impact on readers that writers cannot contr
ol or manipulate. That’s terrifying! Prolific sounds safe. Sounds good. It shows the other person’s interest in the written word. And perhaps in YOUR written word. And I realize I should stop being silly. Stop being touchy. And just say, ‘Thank you … yes, you could say I am prolific.’ Such a response would end the conversation right there. But do I say that? Nope. I look injured. And I foolishly ask, ‘But … but … what do you mean by that comment?’ Oops. Wrong move. Dangerous question. It’s too late by then. The person takes a deep breath and launches into a speech. I am asked exactly how many columns I write per week. Is it tough to keep those deadly deadlines? Have I ever missed one? Is it boring to hammer out so much stuff? Forty-five years of writing??? No wayyyyy! Cool. Don’t I write every single day, no matter what? Where does the inspiration comes from? Have I ever suffered from a writer’s block? Is it really true that I write 2500 words on a daily basis? When do I find the time to write? These questions annoy me. But only mildly. Are surgeons asked, ‘Do you operate every single day? How many surgeries? What if you aren’t in the mood to operate? Have you ever encountered surgeon’s block, thrown down your scalpel and walked out of the operation theatre?’ No. Right? Why not? Because a surgeon’s job is to save lives. Guess what? In a way, so is a writer’s.

  The columns in this volume reflect several concerns … my own and society’s at large. Some of the writing is acerbic and sharp, but almost all of it is impassioned and deeply personal. When I started writing ‘The Sexes’ back in the early 1990s the idea was to talk about issues that defined the rapidly changing gender equations between men and women in India. For the first time since Independence, India was in the throes of dealing with fluid and baffling attitudes towards sex and sexual mores. The changes we were living through were so dramatic and radical they had to be squarely addressed sans moralistic judgments. I believed my job as a columnist was to reflect these changes and comment on the new contours of man-woman relationships. What started off as a jaunty fortnightly column in one of India’s best read weeklies (The Week), soon acquired a loyal following (thank you, readers, you are my oxygen, nutrition, daily work out and indulgent treat), and once that precious relationship gets established as strongly, it becomes an addiction. Today, I cannot do without my daily fix of words – I mainline on them. Take away all else from me if you must, Oh Lord! I pray … but leave those precious words!

  Shobhaa Dé

  Mumbai, 2013

  One

  MOVIES, MIRCH, MASALA

  1

  Himbettes!!

  All hail the arrival of the Himbette. Huh?

  It’s the male bimbette, in case you are wondering … and the creature is right here, in our backyard. A few years back Bollywood gave birth to this special species in style, with the launch of a towel-dropping debutant (Ranbir Kapoor in Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Saawariya), and a six-pack flaunting middle-aged superstar (Shah Rukh Khan in Farah Khan’s Om Shanti Om). The war of the male sex symbols was taken to the next level with the publicity machines on both sides going into overdrive about … what else? The overexposure. Ranbir’s butt was pitted against SRK’s abs … and audiences were overjoyed as the drool metre registered wild swings.

  Men in Hollywood have flexed their biceps for decades. Good old Arnie (Arnold Schwarzenegger), also a former grinning governor of California, was quite the pin-up boy in his time, as was beefcake Sylvester Stallone. There was Tarzan and his leather loin cloth, followed by a buck naked Brad Pitt as Achilles in Wolfgang Petersen’s Troy (2004). But even Hollywood stopped short of blatantly publicizing films by exploiting the heroes’ physical attributes at each and every stage.

  The two Bollywood dhamakas, on the other hand, went all out to promote various body parts of the males in the movie, in a manner that is really in your face. Strangely enough, even the stars went along with the sexist promos that dissected their anatomy in intimate detail. SRK gave countless interviews about his six-pack – how, where and why he acquired the taut mass of muscle, while Ranbir coyly simpered through several interviews revolving around his derriere! Wow! You’ve come a long way, baby. What an amazing reversal of roles … and perfect timing, too!

  Weren’t we sick of reading about Mallika Sherawat’s ample assets, or Raakhi Sawant’s belly button? Isn’t India completely familiar with Malaika Arora Khan’s cute bum and Bipasha Basu’s heaving bosom? The girls have been brazening it out for years. Women in showbiz are no strangers to the maxim: ‘The more you show, the more the biz’. It needed a Raakhi Sawant to put the whole debate into perfect perspective when she stated boldly on a television show: ‘Jo dikhta hai, woh bikta hai.’ (‘What shows, is what sells’). Well, the lads in moviedom must have taken a tip or two from the item girl and decided to turn into item boys themselves! Why not?

  Shekhar Suman has been proudly flashing his ‘heavage’ (male cleavage), ever since he acquired one. Salman Khan has been shirtless for years. In the era of gender equality, it’s about time men got commodified and ‘sold’, just like women who have been packaged and hawked in the marketplace for centuries.

  I don’t know whether Farah Khan – who got SRK to strip – was aware of the signal she’d be sending out. I also don’t know whether Sanjay Leela Bhansali (definitely a director in touch with his female self), consciously structured the ‘butt revealing’ moment (hacked, alas, by cruel censors) in order to make a point, but the audiences did take to the new ‘all revealing’ approach most enthusiastically. To a small extent this show of narcissism started a new trend in Bollywood. Copycat film makers tried to add a couple of risqué shots of men flashing well-toned buns (Kevin Costner rules in this department), which may be a good thing.

  Most of our ageing heroes with saggy behinds and bloated paunches will necessarily have to shape up. Or maybe lazy filmmakers will continue to stick to the boring old formula of placing a buxom heroine under a cascading waterfall, clad in nothing more modest than a clingy, white saree? Either way, audiences will no longer have to endure the sight of unshapely bods (male or female) prancing around trees. Men and women in the movies have raised the benchmark and are setting impossibly high standards for their fans to emulate. Given the choice between ogling SRK’s bared body getting an erotic drenching via a fire hose (come on, Farah, how obvious can you get?), or waiting for Ranbir’s precariously tied towel to drop and watching Mallika/Bipasha/Sushmita(Sen) baring their enhanced assets, we know who’ll win our jaded vote. Michelangelo’s David or da Vinci’s Mona Lisa?

  Let’s get a sms poll going on that one. Right here, right now!

  2

  ‘OMG! BOLLYWOOD TYPES HAVE BRAINS!’

  I swear this is true. God promise!

  There we were – arty, self-conscious intellectuals from Dilli, and the blingy Mumbai variety (errrr … moi?) attending a three day lit fest evocatively called ‘Mountain Echoes’ in the Kingdom of Bhutan. The Delhi contingent was uniformly attired in charcoal grey, black, brown and maroon. Strictly no brights. Accessories were limited to heirloom shawls and chunky Tibetan silver. Sensible shoes, sensible expressions, sensible talk. Everybody behaving and being ultra ‘literary’.

  Mumbai was represented by yours truly plus three Bollywood guys – Madhavan (‘Maddy’), Imtiaz Ali and Rohan Sippy (not maro-ing dum, let me add) and one female actor, Tisca Chopra. Of course, there was much anticipation, but more than that, there was skepticism. What do these Bollywood-wallas know about such lofty events, where great minds congregate and offer food-for-thought to the less brainy? Bollywood is for entertainment of the non-cerebral kind – I mean, if movies like Abhinav Kashyap’s Dabangg start winning national awards, we know we are in trouble! Get the drift, right?

  Well, Rohan and his low-key wife pretty much kept to themselves, perhaps preferring the fresh mountain air to the snooty airs of the motley lit-crew, while Madhavan came in two days later. It didn’t help when he showed up at the dashing Indian major general’s formal dinner dressed like he was attending a rock concert. I ran into him in the lobby of th
e hotel and joked: ‘They aren’t going to let you in clad in that studded shirt!’ Maddy shrugged, grinned and said cheekily: ‘Oh, I am a hero. I’m allowed to dress like this!’ Sure enough, when he arrived at Major General V.K. Pillai’s sprawling residence, he was the one who stole the show and was mobbed by fawning guests. The Delhi contingent looked on in horror. Everything about Maddy was all wrong that night. They tch-tched.

  Yeah, sure. But nobody at that wonderful, ‘fauji’ reception was bothered. All they cared about was that one of the ‘3 Idiots’ was in their midst and ‘Manu’ (minus Tanu!) himself was charm personified. He posed for countless pictures, signed autographs, shook hands, smiled and seemed to genuinely enjoy himself. Ditto, when he turned up at the venue of the lit fest the next morning, ready for his session on script writing with Rohan Sippy (which I moderated). Both the men had done their homework thoroughly and come well prepared. It turned out to be one of the liveliest sessions of the festival, thanks to the quick wit, knowledge and passion expressed by these guys.

  It was the reactions to their presentation that tickled me. An erudite journo from the capital walked up to me and exclaimed incredulously: ‘I say, that Madhavan, he is really, very bright! So is Sippy!’ The tone was one of utter astonishment and disbelief. It was a definite ‘Did you know fish can fly?’ moment. I was amused, but also slightly annoyed. Come on, you chaps. What did you think? That Bollywood is full of dumbos? Real life ‘Idiots’? What’s with the superciliousness and condescension? I finally got it: more than the content of what both men delivered during their presentation, it was their fluency, diction and the complete ease that caused shock and awe.

  The ‘new’, ‘improved’ Bollywood is like that, my friends. These men are representative of this brave breed. Get over it! They are aware, smart, well-read and tech-savvy. They could’ve become successful bankers or crack corporate honchos, if they’d so desired. But they made an informed choice – and that choice is a career in cinema. If they are successful, it is because they are competent and clever. They know the nuts and bolts of making movies – too bad if those movies aren’t pretentious and boring. I didn’t like Rohan Sippy’s Dum Maro Dum myself. So what? Sippy made a commercial film that did appeal to a certain segment of the audience. That’s his prerogative as a film maker. Unlike other less sophisticated (and far less talented) brats in the film industry, Sippy didn’t take to childish name calling. Ditto for Maddy, who also had the right amount of throwaway confidence when quizzed about his girth. He shrugged and said wryly: ‘Here’s an overweight, married Tamilian with a kid, who comes from Jamshedpur and makes it in Bollywood. Frankly, I’m not complaining!’