Blogs don’t need forewords. But this one did. This topic is so controversial that I needed some thinking and re-thinking before posting it. I don’t intentionally choose controversial topics, I just write about topics close to my heart. And this one definitely is. Firstly, if you are an Indian male, this is not representative of you, or the Indian male population at large. But you will have to agree with me, when I say that a large section of our men are still like the protagonist here, Pappu. This is written about them. Secondly, some might target me for being unpatriotic after reading this, but, I don’t need to prove my patriotism to them.
Thirdly, this isn’t a contemporary read, if you are someone who lives in the Metro cities of India, or atleast in the larger cities of India. The characters, however are still very real if you consider men from the smaller, rural areas. But again, it is not a sweeping generalisation. Again, please don’t sue me if you are a woman offended by the characterisation of the Indian woman as meek, and submissive. Well, you see this is not an educated and emancipated Indian woman, but a lady bereft of all such privileges.
Finally, if you can relate to this, or find a little bit of Pappu inside you, kill it! Immediately! If you feel as strongly as I do about this, then please do something about it.
THE GREAT INDIAN MALE EGO:
If there’s anything greater than the Great Wall of China, then it’s the Great Indian Male Ego. And I’m not taking a dig at everything that is Chinese. It’s an honest statement, and an honest observation.
You already know what I’m talking about, if you are an Indian. If you are from outside the country, then it will take you some reading to get what I’m trying to drive at. Be with me.
Okay, let’s start at where it all starts – the birth of a baby boy. Let’s call that baby boy Pappu. It is an event that is most desirable in all Indian households, and much preferred over the birth of a girl child. Why?
Quite obviously, he will rake in the money (read dowry, welcome to India), when he is of a marriageable age. Plus, he will be the “sahara” (support) of his folk, when they grow old, and eccentric.
So, there on, starts a life-long journey of pampering and spoiling the “Raja beta” (Prince, roughly in English). He always gets the bigger gifts, the leg-piece of the chicken cooked in the house, the newest toy gun in the market. And, in poor families, the right to go to school, while his sisters learn to sacrifice, to suppress their wishes, and to keep their heads down.
Pappu grows up, learning that women are second class citizens, not to be respected, or considered. When he is a school going teenager, he gleefully teases the girls of his age, calling them names, along with his friends.
Slowly, as age increases, so does his confidence. When he is a college going boy, the teasing slowly starts to border on eve-teasing. But, no reprimands from the lop-sided society, and Pappu is now scot-free. He watches porn with his friends and gets the wrong idea that all western women are out there on the look out for casual sex, and they are “easy”.
Lust takes over. His eyes are now leery, and he is into groping and stalking women, Desi and foreigners. It is morons like him that make coming to India such a traumatic experience for Western women. He can now visually rape women. He treats the streets as his Daddyji’s property and pisses anywhere he wants, gleefully letting his appendage out in the open for some air. He is spooky and scares the hell out of women. He is from the school of thought that believes that if women dress in a revealing manner, they are asking to be raped, and that’s what they should get!!! He is the part of certain polarizing political parties that like to beat up women on Valentines’ Day.
Pappu has arrived, and he is here to stay.
Then comes a day when Pappu is married off (for starters, yes, men like Pappu get married too!). This is the first ‘achievement‘of his otherwise useless life, for he brings lakhs of rupees in dowry, along with plenty of gifts in kind from the bride’s family. His family is on the moon, for along with the cash and the gifts, he has also brought a lady to help with the household work(his wife).
Pappu is on the moon too, for he has a sex slave now, and all he dreams about is the night. Night is the time when most of the injustice happens, but I shall not venture into that. Let your imagination run wild. Imagine a moron like Pappu (with zero respect for women), and a typically submissive Indian woman, together in a room at night, and the rest is up to your fertile imagination.
Now, a married man, Pappu indulges in all pleasures carnal, comes home drunk, beats his wife, gleefully. Birth control goes out of the window, and he reproduces more and more Pappu’s , and the vicious cycle of The Great Indian Male Ego continues.