India in Love

by Ira Trivedi

  Unfortunately the ascetic side of Indian and Victorian culture was what prevailed, especially when the British discovered the high-priest of prudish values—Manu.

  The Laws of Manu was one of the first Sanskrit texts studied by the British; they borrowed freely from it to frame legal and administrative systems for India. In truth, The Laws of Manu were just one of the texts referred to in ancient India, but through the British, Manu became the ultimate voice of authority, deeply infiltrating contemporary Hindu culture, building into it many negative assumptions about lower castes and women that sharply restricted their freedom, regulated their behaviour and blocked their access to social and political power.

  Those regulations were taken by the British to be universal, applying to all ‘Hindoos’. Part of this impulse stemmed from the push to establish uniform laws—which was also going on in Britain at the time.24

  To find out more about British Victorian influences on India’s sexual culture, I speak with Wendy Doniger, perhaps the world’s greatest living authority on Hinduism.

  ‘In the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, the downhill sexual journey began. It was the Protestants with the British that [did] the harm, though the Christian missionaries had some influence too. The Protestants were a different crowd, they were Victorians… And worst of all, they were Puritans,’ says Doniger.

  ‘How did the British force their beliefs on to the Indians?’ I wonder aloud.

  Doniger explains it wasn’t just the British who were responsible for disseminating the prudish Victorian attitude to sex but the anglicized Indian elite too, who in their eagerness to please their masters, preached these new values to the Indian middle class, who in turn broadcast them widely throughout the nation.

  ‘Europeans liked Indian philosophy, like the Bhagvad Gita, but they made fun of the sexier temple carvings and gods. The Hindus wanted to be respected by the Europeans and to seem more like them. It wasn’t everybody; it was largely the people who spoke English,’ says Doniger.

  McConnachie agrees with this view. ‘Wendy is spot on about motivations for Hindu reformers—wanting respect. The British came with all these preconceptions about lascivious Orientals, who were seen as over-erotic, or actually feminine in a way that made them supposedly unfit to govern. So showing yourself to be asexual or anti-sexual or puritanical also showed you were fit to run your own country. Masculinity was seen to be about self-control—just as it had been for Shiva.’

  Professor Geeta Patel (a college professor who first inculcated my interest in South Asian sexual history) agrees with this view. ‘Doniger is right that Indians absorbed something and made it their own. This is called hegemony. And perhaps because we always know that one particular picture is shaky, we hold on to it more tightly. The result is we give up our own histories and, with it, all the possibilities that one can see in them.’

  The stifling of sexuality thus received the sanction of many others, including eminent Bengali reformer, Raja Rammohan Roy—best known today for his efforts towards the uplifting of women with his anti-sati and anti-child marriage movements. Roy was the founder of the Brahmo Samaj that propagated a new kind of Hinduism influenced by Hindu Vedanta, Islamic Sufism and Christian Unitarianism. However, Roy was a great admirer of British Victorian values, and his views on sexuality were, as a consequence, influenced by them.

  Roy’s most influential successor was Swami Vivekananda, who carried on the ideals of the Bengal reforms with a movement called Sanatana Dharma (Universal Dharma) which many Hindus still embrace today. He preached the importance of chastity and of Hindutva, or the ‘Hindu identity’ to his followers, which continues to have a perceptible influence on art, film and literature.

  Another great son of modern India who had a dampening effect on sex and sexuality was Mahatma Gandhi, who passionately preached celibacy. The Mahatma took a vow of celibacy at the age of thirty-six and his conflicted views on sex are apparent in his memoirs where he writes with anguish about his battle with his own sexuality. He declares he was tormented by sexual passions, which he described as uncontrollable. Gandhi also said women were the embodiment of sacrifice and non-violence, as also the keepers of purity. 25 Rather surprisingly, the Mahatma felt that, in some ways, women had to be careful not to invite sexual abuse. During his time in South Africa, Gandhi saw a young man harassing his female followers. Instead of punishing the male, Gandhi personally cut off the girl’s hair.26

  Influenced by the likes of Victorians, and the British Raj in general, as well as some of the country’s most iconic leaders like Mahatma Gandhi, Raja Rammohan Roy, and Swami Vivekananda, Indian society of the early twentieth century became decidedly illiberal, a far cry from the country that had given rise to the Kamasutra.

  ♦

  I realize that India’s sexual past is not so different from the present. The sexual tension, the dichotomy, hypocrisy, irony—call it what you want—has been there from the beginning and continues to flourish. There are these extreme views on sex at either end of the spectrum, and those are the ones that have survived.

  McConnachie explains with an analogy: ‘Indian history has always been varied. It’s like being in a big garden with one spectacular flower. We look at that flower because it is most interesting. But at the end of the day, it is just a single flower. The Kamasutra, for example, is that magnificent flower in a vast garden. How people read the past was based on their politics. Some people turned to Manu, while others to the Kamasutra. A country which has a deep literary past gives you a variety of options and you can weed history anyway you want. The truth is that we simply cannot come to big conclusions about a big culture.’

  ♦

  Today, however, the pendulum appears to be swinging back towards a more relaxed attitude towards sexuality, especially in urban India. And it has done so in double quick time, for even when I was becoming sexually aware, not so long ago, things were very different. Like most Indian kids who came of age in the ‘90s, I thought sex was bad, something so awful that it must never be talked about. No one said so explicitly—it was just understood, maybe because it was never talked about.

  Even in my high school, in the middle India town of Indore, sex was never discussed, not even amongst the closest of my friends. When I went to the US for college, I was far behind the curve in terms of experience, since most girls had already had their firsts and many more. I pretended my way through conversations on sex, shy to admit to my new American friends that I was a virgin, afraid to reveal that I’d only had my first boyfriend the summer after I’d graduated (thank god I had quickly kissed him).

  Today the scene has changed out of all recognition. Indeed, it is women who are at the heart of this cultural change as they come to terms with their desire and challenge stereotypes of the ‘good’ Indian girl. Recently, I spent the day at an all-women’s college campus in New Delhi speaking with young Indian women about their sexual habits. I listened as they expounded confidently and expertly on their sexual experiences. From the hundred plus accounts that I listened to that day, it appeared to me that sex on campus was the norm rather than the exception, and many girls admitted to having lost their virginity before they started college. On urban college campuses across India especially in metros, premarital sex seems to be rampant. Free from the clutches of family and the mores of middle-class India, girls are keenly interested in sexual exploration. This sense of experimentation is mirrored in the bustling nightlife and social scene—in nightclubs, bars, hookah lounges and cafes where young people mingle freely. As one eloquent interviewee at St. Xavier’s, Mumbai, once a strict Catholic college, put it to me, ‘If you aren’t doing it here, you just ain’t cool.’

  CHENNAI

  I visit Prayag a year after he graduated from his college. Much has changed in his life—he has found a tech job in an multinational company in Chennai. He is clean-shaven, the fuzzy hair that sprouted on his chin shorn away. He goes to the gym now and takes protein supplements and has gained some weigh
t. Wonder of all wonders, he is even using deodorant, something which he never did earlier, and this makes spending time with him more tolerable.

  Prayag comes to pick me up from the airport on his new cherry-red motorbike, a Hero Honda Achiever, which he has bought with his signing bonus. He is definitely feeling and looking more confident than the pale, sleep-deprived ghost I had last seen in Delhi.

  The first thing that Prayag tells me with a toothy grin is that he is no longer a virgin; he has finally had sex with his girlfriend of three months, Samyukta. Though Prayag has had girlfriends in college, he never had sex with any of them. His most sexually aggressive moment had been when he had demurely kissed Pia on the lips, a moment he would never forget. Sex, he says, has been simply amazing and he feels transformed, physically and mentally.

  For their first time, Prayag and Samyukta rented a hotel room in a three-star hotel. They began the night by watching a Hindi film, then had a meal at the hotel restaurant, and finally made their way to their room. Despite Prayag’s meticulous preparation that involved watching thousands of hours of porn, the first time was difficult. It was hard to get the condom on, and when he finally did, it was so tight that everything felt painful. To add to this, he couldn’t manage to slide in his organ as smoothly and painlessly as he had observed in the movies. Somehow they had managed to do the act, but it was a frustrating experience. Thankfully, Samyukta was as willing to practice and improve as he was, and soon they had managed to achieve pleasurable union.

  In Chennai, Prayag lives as a Paying Guest (PG) with a local family. His parents insist that he live in this strict environment (he has to be home by 9 p.m. on weekdays) mostly because of the vegetarian food that the host family offers him. Retaining vegetarianism is of crucial importance to Prayag’s parents because it implies that he abides by the values with which he was raised, of which vegetarianism is the touchstone. Prayag could care less about these values; it turns out he has recently taken to eating meat and loves his butter chicken whenever he goes out for a meal.

  Prayag takes me to his congested apartment, where he has a small, bare room that shares a thin wall with the owners of the apartment—a stodgy, Tamil couple.

  Is this where he has sex, I wonder, thinking how uncomfortable it must be.

  Thankfully, Prayag tells me that he is not allowed to have friends visit, so he usually goes to friends’ places or Samyukta’s apartment (which she shares with four roommates) to do the deed. He tells me that he plans to move out of the ‘shit hole PG’ as soon as he can convince his parents about his ‘dedication’ to being a vegetarian.

  Though it only 8 p.m. and not quite dark yet, Prayag insists on taking me to Climax, the most happening ‘disc’ in town, which is in one of Chennai’s many new malls. On our evening out, I finally meet the girlfriend, Samyukta, a sweet-faced, dark-skinned girl with taut, tidy features. She is from a small city close to Chennai and works as a receptionist at Prayag’s company. She is dressed in a pair of tight jeans, high heels and a tight t-shirt. She is very much in awe of Prayag, of his engineering degree, of his senior position (relative to her) at the company and, most of all, of his newly purchased motorbike on which he drops her home every day.

  Prayag knows the doorman at Climax, so the cover charge is waived for all of us. I notice the charges: entry is free for women, 200 for a couple, and 400 for a ‘stag’ or a single man. Men pay a premium for being single.

  The nightclub is packed, mostly with stags, but there are also co-ed groups. The box-shaped club features a bar made entirely of red and black plastic, a dance floor with swirling strobe-lights, next to which a tired looking DJ plays his tunes in a rickety red-coloured booth, and a few black, sticky pleather couches.

  Despite the early hour and the tawdry settings, Climax is rocking. There is a palpable energy in the air, and if not for the skewed sex ratio, a good party might have been on the cards.

  Undeterred by the gender imbalance, Prayag and Samyukta head straight to the dance floor where they immediately start dancing frenziedly and expertly to the popular Bollywood and Tollywood tunes that are blaring from the speakers. I too am encouraged to dance, and Prayag, Samyukta and I form a small circle. Samyukta is quite a talented dancer, and she jumps up and down, twirls expertly, whooping along with the music. Prayag is awkward on the dance floor and has one move only, a march-along that he performs with confidence, looking proudly at Samyukta, who has upstaged us all with her prowess.

  At 10 p.m. the music is abruptly switched off, and the lights are turned on. We all gaze around in alarm, squinting in the sudden harshness of the white lights. I am told that nightclubs in Chennai shut at 10 p.m., which explains our early arrival. We shuffle our way out of the club, and make our way to the next party, which Prayag promises will be as happening as Climax. I notice that Prayag is drenched in sweat from his vigorous marching.

  Not long after I find myself in a small, dark, shabby apartment. Music plays from a laptop, and a squat bottle of Old Monk rum sits on a table with some plastic cups and mixers. The sex ratio is much better, and groups of boys and girls huddle together on mattresses thrown on the floor. A few people crowd around a small glass hookah taking turns with the pipe, inhaling expertly and blowing out perfect rings of smoke.

  The scene is typical of a college house party and Prayag tells me that most of the people here are recent graduates like himself, working in various corporations dotted around the city.

  Prayag pours us all drinks. I notice that he pours more rum into Samyukta’s than into our cups—the standard ploy to get the girlfriend drunk. Samyukta sips on her strong drink, half a plastic cup of rum diluted with a splash of water. After taking a gulp she tells me, curling up her button nose, that she doesn’t like the taste of alcohol, but likes the high that it gives her.

  Some marijuana is brought out, and a young man expertly rolls a joint and passes it expeditiously around the small group. Everyone takes a drag. Soon Prayag is drunk. I recall that Prayag never drank in college.

  He tells me with a certain drug- and rum-infused swagger: ‘I never thought I would be a chick-magnet, but I am now. I was always the dorky boy in school, but working hard has got me places. Ira, life is just ammmazzzing.’ (He’d stopped calling me ma’am once he graduated.)

  At 3 a.m., the party is still whirling on. I have just woken up from a short nap induced by second-hand pot smoke. I take in my surroundings. What had seemed like a fairly innocuous party now seems a rubbish pit. Prayag, my ride home, is passed out on the floor. Samyukta is sitting in a corner smoking a cigarette and giggling with a nondescript young man. I doubt I will find taxis at this time in the morning so I decide to go back to sleep until daybreak when I can make my way home.

  As daylight streams into the apartment, I wake up. In the morning, the apartment looks even more squalid, and all the remnants of the debauchery are evident. Snoring men are passed out on the booze- and food-stained floor. The long empty bottle of alcohol lies abandoned in a graveyard of cigarette butts. Samyukta must have found a ride home because I’m the only girl left. I chastise myself; old habits die hard, and despite being much too old for these sorts of situations, at a college-like party like this, be it Boston or Chennai, I am still the last woman to leave.

  I shake Prayag awake. His breath smells rancid, and he rubs his bloodshot eyes. He wears contact lenses now, and one has fallen out, so his vision is blurred. We try looking for the missing lens on the floor, but given the mess in the apartment and our less than ideal physical condition, it is an impossible task. Prayag comes out to help me find an auto to get me home and we fall into a rather bizarre conversation about his relationship with Samyukta.

  ‘I won’t marry Samyukta because she had sex with me. If she had sex with me, then that means that she can have sex with anyone.’

  ‘Prayag! That’s ridiculous. She had sex because you wanted to!’ I say indignantly.

  ‘But if she had sex with me, then she will have sex with other guys also. Her mentality
is like that only,’ he says sheepishly.

  ‘What is her mentality like?’ I ask.

  ‘She has a cheap mentality. She roams around with fast girls, so she may be fast too.’

  ‘Are you saying that Samyukta is a “bad girl”?’ I ask.

  He looks at me blankly.

  ‘Remember our bad girl, good girl classification?’

  ‘Huh?’ he says, confused.

  It seems that the ‘good girl, bad girl’ formula that Prayag had used for many years has been forgotten. With the change in his personality, he has also changed his vocabulary. However, while speaking with him, I discover that in essence things have remained the same. Now girls either have a ‘cheap mentality’ or a ‘healthy mentality’. Girls who have a cheap mentality tended to be ‘fast’ which basically meant ‘fast’ to have sex and therefore not worth marrying.

  I say to Prayag, ‘Samyukta is a fast girl so you don’t consider her worth marrying? But you also claim to love her, how does that work?’

  A hung-over Prayag is strained by this conversation. ‘It’s all confusing for me. I don’t know about all this stuff. Better to focus on career than to think of love-shove and all,’ he says wearily.

  ♦

  No people in the world are more confused in their attitude toward sex than we Indians. Our cherished ideals bear little resemblance with our patterns of sexual behaviour; our fantasies, heavily influenced by our mythology, impinge on our subconscious and add to our confusion because they contradict each other. A land of phallus-yoni worshippers laud the virtues of virginal chastity, renunciation of sex and brahmacharya. — Khushwant Singh