Following from the front!
Bhavana Pankaj

"Ek coffee milega kya," the retired, old father asks his wife somewhat tentatively. "What, another coffee!" she scolds him, "are you going to down your daughter’s hard-earned money in coffee?"

"I wish we had a son," says the father resigning to his coffee-less fate. Enter the daughter. Obviously, she’s heard him. It’s a brutal situation and she breaks down. Then amidst a volley of sobs, she begins to scan the ‘situation vacant’ columns of a newspaper and goes on to clinch a handsomely paying job of an air hostess. The next thing she takes her parents to a five-star café. Daddy dearest, all excited like a child meeting his favourite fairy for the first time, pipes in once again. "Beta, ek coffee milega?" And the mother-daughter duo break into benign smiles at the simple request. End of story.

The fortunes of this lower middle class family have changed dramatically – no thanks to a munificent fairy but a miraculous beauty cream.

If only our ad gurus could invent a cream that would turn a beti into a beta! But since they can’t play God, they do the next best thing. They invent a cream that promises to transform an ugly duckling into a fair daughter capable of earning as well as the son, if not more!

But this isn’t just another ad selling just another cream. This is an ad that sells a dream - as it feeds on it. It feeds on a social aspiration, a middle class mania that seems to have, of late, undergone a mutation of sorts.

A long time in many centuries perhaps, craving for a son publicly is passé and wanting a daughter politically correct. It is hip, particularly for the elite middle class, to ooh and ah about the joys of having little girls. After all, they are as good as a little boys. "Hamari beti bete jaisi hai" or "betiyan beton se kam to nahin", they go on and on. Change at last, we smile to ourselves, and glory be to God for a new social order cometh!

But has it? What about this comparison, this instinctive benchmarking of a daughter against the son? And about those puny excuses that girls are, after all, better because they are more caring and remain bonded with their parents even after marriage unlike the sons? That they are all this and more is true. It is also true that beneath this half-hearted defence is the overriding desire for a son. Behind this namby-pamby political correctness is a centuries’ old orientation that tells us there is no salvation without a son.

But Nature can be naughty and the son can remain elusive as salvation. So, a society begins to appease itself. If you can’t have a son, bring up your daughter as one. Reconciliation becomes a necessity… and necessity begins to look like virtue. And often parents psyche themselves into exulting in their daughters – first to themselves and then to everyone else.

New-age parents of one or more daughters are still likely to pine and hope for a son. But if they have reconciled and don’t think it is proper to mope either, they may just say, "We’ve brought up our daughter like a son… anyway, there is no difference between a son and daughter these days… right?" Of course, but what a charming cop-out!

One hasn’t seen or heard of too many couples who would despair for a girl after a couple of boys. But there are any number with a couple of daughters fervently praying for a son to complete the family. Deep inside we all know it’s a fake celebration, if and when there’s one.

Else we wouldn’t still be blessing our newly wedded girls and potential mothers with a putravati bhav – may you be a mother of sons. We wouldn’t be still be dressing up our little girls in boy’s clothes, and there would be ‘tom girls’ along with tomboys.

This may sound like a boring, feminist manifesto. But behind all of this is the truth that for long sons, boys and men have been our points of reference. Painfully long.

The girl continues to be paraya dhan that must be handed over to another when she comes of age. The societal lease with the parents ends and they cease to have much claim on her – emotionally or otherwise. They can’t renew the lease and they even learn to curb their desire to meet her as often as would like to or have her over when they wish to.

The girl ‘loses’ the name she has lived with for years and takes on her husband’s. His lineage, his gotra, his family are also hers. Her first filial duty is to this new set and her own family must either wait or seek it from their son’s wife. Too bad if there are no sons in the family.

So, at the one end of the spectrum is a hat-in-hand society obsessed with its sons merely because they are, well… sons. At the other end, it is busy dodging its daughters or apologising for them when killing them gets too primitive for its progressive avatar.

It isn’t as though there aren’t exceptions. But they exist to prove the rule that this all this noise about change is still a pile of tosh.

If only the exceptions stepped in to make the rule – a new rule. That in a reversal of roles, the husbands will come to live with wives and look after the latter’s parents – if they need looking after. This is common in matriarchal societies where woman is paramount. Legitimacy and legacy flow from her, not the man. Ghar jamai is not a bad word and bride-price replaces dowry because that society sanctions it.

The case is hardly for or against matriarchy, which is, anyway, an exception. Neither is it about slighting the man. It is, perhaps, about putting him through the intense experience of a daughter’s physical and emotional dislocation over which her parents agonise for the rest of their lives. It is also about radical changes that are necessary to return primacy to the woman.

Man’s volition to do so would make it a happier change.

Then, the Pauranic adage that says Punnama narakat trayate iti putrah (One that saves from hell is the son) would read differently. The daughter will become the support and the liberator. Aspiring for and accepting daughters wouldn’t be just a passing fad. Atrocities on girls would cease. As the worm turns, male foeticide and groom burning may well become reality.

The girl may still choose to stay at home, nurture and bring forth a responsible, responsive family. The nurturing would be equal and fearless. Equal - because comparisons between sons and daughters would cease. Fearless – because the new order would reinvest her with pride in herself and powers taken away by a callous patriarchy. She will give her progeny equal, if different, opportunities to serve their different purposes. And she will tell them that bearing, rearing and raising generations are as important as breadwinning.

If the yuga dharma changes, thoughts will change. With that action, character and destiny of the people. A society that fawns over its men will begin to look at women for its role models. The feminist jingoism, that came as a reaction, will inevitably fade out.

"At first do not lead… it is better than man and woman follow each other, from following comes leading by following. This is a soft leading, a special leading from behind," says Ray Crigg in the Tao of Relationships. He also says with time softness produces humility, trust, togetherness and one mind that "cannot follow or lead itself. Free from opposites, there is neither leading nor following."

But the yuga dharma hasn’t changed. And Crigg’s time isn’t here yet. Till such time, the sons, boys and men are welcome do this special leading — from behind. The daughters and women will surely be content to follow — from the front!

The ‘other’ electrifying effect of Miss India
Gaurav Sood

It was a chilly rainy day, quite unlike a February day, and the sun decided to remain behind the clouds that really meant business. Mercury had taken a plunge and jackets came out of wardrobes. Most of the Chandigarhians preferred staying indoors. There was another class of people in the city who were braving the ugly weather, all dressed up to their teeth to catch a glimpse of Femina Miss India Universe 2002, Neha Dhupia. These were the special guests, some invited, others uninvited, who were to join the beauty’ for dinner. At the very outset, I must admit, I was not a formal invitee but being close to one of the organisers was granted the liberty to have a tete-a-tete with Miss Universe contestant.

And I was glad that I went. Otherwise, I would not have got a chance to see the lewd side of most of those who occupy position of eminence, both socially as well as officially.

We reached the destination an hour before the scheduled time for last-minute arrangements but found a number of invitees eagerly waiting at the entrance before us. This was the same set of people who go to every function an hour late just to exhibit their busy schedule but were curiously peeping inside every car that came. They were so keen to have the glimpse of the beauty not knowing the fact that she was staying at the hotel itself. The ‘reception committee’ also included a few senior celebrities from corporate houses and the media. Some distinguished guests were accompanied by their wives and kids. But soon they too realised their mistake and preferred that their better halves stayed inside the hotel lobby while they themselves could feel free to feel young again.

After a long, fruitless wait did the members of the self-appointed reception committee decide to end the hotel-porch siege and recharge their lost spirits. Once the cocktails started trickling down the throats, the divide between husbands and wives, men and women widened. Soon women were found sitting on the chairs around the dance floor with light instrumental music playing. And men. To say the least, they abandoned their wives for the sake of one Miss India. Though the music was ear-shattering, yet it could not conceal the sound of Neha’s footsteps.

For men, the wait had ended and as the light of the video flashgun moved, most of the men’s eyes popped out. Some women subtly gave a message to their husbands that all the excitement was over nothing as Neha too was also of the same gender. The ‘weaker sex’ that could make men ‘weak-kneed.’ Unleashed, high-spirited men were unstoppable. Most of them at their crude best. As she moved around, fans, who seemed more interested in various aspects of her off-shoulder dress, jostled with each other. The celebrities among the invitees presented flowers to Neha and scrambled to get themselves clicked with the Miss. Some were seen congratulating others for getting clicked with her as if it was a lifetime achievement award. A distinguished guest who had come all the way from an industrial town in Punjab quietly offered Rs 500 advance to the photographer. One for the drawing room, another for the hall…

An elderly gentleman, said to be a retired neighbour of one of the organisers, forgot what the word gentleman was all about and requested to place his head on Neha’s shoulder to get clicked. To his dismay, the beauty refused the humble gesture.

A pretty picture of India’s grace and vitality as written in a leading newspaper got embarrassed when she thrust her hand for a handshake towards the regional head of an automobile company. The man went bonkers and lustfully eyed her off-shoulder slit- dress. After that he did reciprocate till Neha reminded him that a handshake was different from a longish clasp. A fashion designer wife of an owner of a leading fashion store in the city had a tough time pulling her husband away from the beauty.

Unlike the gentlemen, the boys behaved fairly decently with the lady. As per her itinerary, the beauty was also supposed to dance with the distinguished invitees. As she stepped on the dance floor, some threw away their coats (and decorum) in the air and gave a crass performance of bhangra on the western tunes.

The cakes were to be cut before the dinner. Tempting black forest, chocolate and yummy strawberry were the three choices the beauty had. She went for the strawberry as the ‘beauty with brains’ thought it was a low calorie option. Again no one wanted to miss the opportunity and pushed their way to offer cake to Miss Dhupia. An elderly gentleman even calculated the amount of calories being eaten by the beauty.

I was amazed at the unruly behaviour that most men thought to be from the higher echelons of society resorted to. I couldn’t resist myself and asked Neha whether she liked being clicked with the so-called high and mighty of Chandigarh: "Do you like getting photographed with such unruly men?" "Yes! They cannot trouble me. There is a lot of security around." "No, do you like getting clicked?" "Yes! They cannot trouble me" No, do you personally like it? I persisted. "Come on, enjoy the evening." She smiled and moved ahead with a plastic smile. I called out to her to say that I had got my answer. She smiled back again.

It was a great evening for the organisers, the celebrity guests but perhaps not so for men’s most wanted Femina Miss India Universe 2002, Neha Dhupia.