I feel sorry for our men. They are terribly put upon. Just look at the bad time we are giving the cricketers. Those brave boys in blue, and they are indeed brave to take up cricket in this country of vicious fans, sailed through every match in the recent World Cup with a skill that clearly puts them right up there with the best in the world. In the past, they have won the Cup as well. This time they did not. Just a bad day at work. Of course, we could not be generous with our praise and say, ‘well done, boys, better luck next time’. No, we moaned and carped and TV’s bête noire took his boorishness one step further (I am curious to know what the upper limit to that is) and called it the nation’s shame, little realising that he qualifies quite well for the same tag.
But worse, we decided to blame one of the player’s girlfriends, actress Anushka Sharma, for the player’s failure, claiming she distracted him.
And that’s why I said I am sorry for our men. Just think: we imagine they are so helpless that all it takes is a girlfriend’s mere presence to completely throw them off their game. They must be feeble creatures indeed, with no self-control at all. Now, women players can have husbands in the hotel room or boyfriends cheering in the stands, and nobody ever uses that to blame bad performances. In fact, nobody much notices the boyfriends because the cameras are so busy with the bodies of the players themselves. Do you recall Sania Mirza’s spouse being blamed at any time for her poor show? I don’t. Although I do remember all of us getting hot under the collar deciding what Sania could wear or not, and who she ought to marry.
It’s not just sports. Our hapless men step into buses and trains, into factories and offices, and everywhere people expect that they must simply keep their minds and hands on the work at hand or the bus handrails. Even though they are constantly being tempted by women in various kinds of clothes ranging from saris to jeans. How unfair is that? Surely if a woman walks into an office room wearing a sleeveless blouse because it’s summer and because she wants to look nice, the man cannot be expected to stay calm. He is forced to make a pass at her. First, the woman should not be in that blouse; second, she should not work in his office; third, she should not walk into his room.... heck, it would be much simpler if she just didn’t exist.
Take Mr. Pachauri, the climate scientist. He pursued a decades-younger subordinate for over 17 months, despite her rebuffs, simply because he was helplessly in love. How can you blame him? Our movies tell us firmly that if a man wants a woman, he must chase her relentlessly, preferably singing a song. She has to then say yes. I think Mr. Pachauri’s only slip was that he didn’t sing.
Whether cricketer or rapist, we are quick to find a woman to blame. If it were not for Eve, Adam would still be innocently running around daisies in Eden like a baa lamb. If it were not for various tempting damsels, innumerable kings and rishis would not have come to sticky ends. Explanations that absolve men of blame for their actions are primordial and enduring. And they are getting tiresome.
We need new scriptwriters who tell it like it is. ‘What a piece of work is a man!’ exclaimed Shakespeare, ‘so noble in reason, how infinite in faculties....’ If that were indeed so, let’s allow this noble creature to make his own mistakes. And own up to them.
