One girl had come down from the third floor to see the film shoot. She was fair-skinned, tall and pretty, like a classical figurine. On hearing the story before the shooting began, the girl asked: Who's doing the elder brother's role in this film? The director asked: Who do you think would be good? The girl replied: One person could have done it – Uttam-da – but he's dead. The director asked: Can you think of anyone else? The girl mentioned the names of two middle-aged actors. The director asked: What if I did it? The girl pursed her lip, as if to say it wouldn't work. She watched the shooting for a long time. The karate scene, too. Later, after the shooting was over, the director asked the girl: How did you like it? The girl touched his feet in obeisance and said: Please don't use the formal 'you' with me. You are indeed like an elder brother.
After the shooting was over and the director was in a more relaxed frame of mind, he asked the madam: Can you please tell me how you people entered this profession? The madam pursed her lips. Certainly not the way you lot show it in films. Oh, dear husband's brother, is she her husband's brother's? Why doesn't your sister sleep with that husband of hers?Is there any ill-heath in your film? Do they have to take injections? Bad diseases are commonplace in a whorehouse. All the girls have to take penicillin. Once in a while every girl has trouble urinating. There's pus. The gift of decent folk like you. You call it VD or something like that. We don't talk of such things outside. If we did, the customers wouldn't come. Where deprivation is most acute, middlemen hover. The first vulture is this middleman. He entices you with the promise of employment in Calcutta. And then he deposits you here. A band of foxes and vultures descend to tear and devour the body. A feast session. Chew-suck-lick-drink. And thus begins the nose-ring ceremony, for entry into the oldest profession in the world. There is deprivation of every kind. Apart from the deprivation of food and clothing, there are other kinds of deprivation too. For instance, suddenly one finds the man of one's heart. There is an exchange of hearts. Unable to wait, they go and get married in Kalighat. And then he brings her to a house. After a few days he leaves, saying, I'll just be back – never to return. He takes whatever jewellery or money there was, all of it, everything. So now you die, you become a whore. Of course there's no shortage of people who drop into the profession. Do you know what 'putting on the nose-ring' means? Come here sometimes. Gradually you'll get to know. At first it's very difficult. Whatever one earns is taken away by the madam. Of course, one is provided with food and so on. If you are clever and intelligent, you find the right time and opportunity and ensnare some babu and grab all his money. After that, either you trip him, or else the babu himself becomes bankrupt while feeding his debauchery. Sometimes one has to say, don't try to act too smart or I'll tell the wife and then you'll be fucked. One does feel a bit bad, but it's the sons of these decent folk who brought us to the street in the name of marriage. I don't give a damn. At least one gets a room of one's own with the money. So many babus have come and gone. The sky's full of many kites. Cut them all, bo-katta!Make the string sharp – we learnt this at the very beginning in this profession. Feel sad for the babus? Rubbish! Wash and wipe yourself and wring the towel and hang it out to dry. Don't talk to me about morals! In shame I'm in the brothel and eat to still my stomach's woe, it's because I have shame that I choose to wear clothes and go.
Scratching his head, the director said: My heroine came to this quarter driven by poverty. She is a victim of our social system. She can do no wrong. That she filches a babu's money – such a so-called reality does not work in this country. It's Saratchandra's land, moshai! The audience won't tolerate such things. She became a prostitute because of poverty – that's our eternal theme, a burning problem, created by Sarat-babu with his own hands. Without that, how can the public accept the film? I've concocted a fine punch by adding a progressive outlook to it. Absolutely twenty-first century. The son does not hate his whore mother. He accepts her! Takes her home. Society recognizes her. Completely modern thinking! The latest! It's bound to be a hit! So you just lap it up and I'll rake it in!
_________________
Ei Somajbyabostar Nikhunt Chitro – Dwayi Ke?, 1987
Will You Preserve Your Chastity, Aparna?
[For Jean-Luc Godard, of First Name: Carmen]
While Ma was alive – until about a year into my marriage – whenever it rained she would phone me in my office to ask: Tell me, which dal would you like me to make you khichudi with? Nowadays, if it rains and I mention that I'd like to eat khichudi, she gets irritated. And we haven't even been married five years. Neither of us expects anything from the other now. Hold the PC muscle tight for two seconds. Hold it there.
After two seconds, let go. And then relax. Hold it tight again. Keep it that way for two seconds. Let go. Do this again and again. Hold it. Let it go. Hold it. Let it go. You'll find that your capacity, what is known as retention capacity, has increased greatly.
I hate my mother, the girl said exasperatedly, shaking her bobbed hair, responding to the remote assault. I don't call her Ma, I say Mrs Sanyal, Mrs Aparna Sanyal. I find it disgusting to call her Ma. She returns drunk every night– she flirts with every one of Dad's friends. I smoke, I drink, I push drugs, heroine, smack – everything. Who cares? Why does Mrs Sanyal poke her nose into my private life? A woman like that has no right to admonish or order me. I'll do whatever I want, I can share my bed with whoever I wish. I am seventeen years old. I'm old enough to know what's good for me and what's not. I will do whatever I feel like.
There are women who are unwilling to wait. Even while the party's on, she takes her companion where no one can see and pulls at his shirt buttons, kisses his neck, rubs her head on his chest, and when she is at the peak of excitement, begins to open his zipper with trembling fingers. Tchaikovsky begins to play behind the scenes, and sometimes Rachmaninoff. Twenty minutes are spent in this manner.
The girl began lying for no particular reason. She spends most of her time at home standing in the verandah. She speaks rudely, whether there's any justification or not. From her accumulated grievances I understood that the girl was simply coming of age. She had a kind of complex in her mind about me. She would get very happy if she saw me ill at ease. As if my discredit was to her credit. And she got annoyed if she discerned the slightest intimacy between her father and me.
One afternoon, her father and I were lying on the same bed. My daughter was in the next room. Thinking she was asleep, my husband got intimate with me. But my daughter had witnessed the whole thing. What fury thereafter! She wouldn't speak with me or her father. When I found out, I explained to her that this was the way of the animal world. If she wished, she too could do all this with whoever she liked. With her father, too. After that day, if my daughter had any questions regarding sex, she would ask me straightaway.
The face should not be too dry or too moist. Many believe that for such things nymphomaniacs are more suitable. Open your lips a little, but not too much. When a man and a woman stand together, their heights should be about the same. If you have to do it by bending or craning your neck, often the neck, back and spine ache. To find out if your height is all right, measure yourself so you don't have to strain your neck too much.
When I look back about ten years ago, to the time I reached adolescence, I realize I had felt a kind of jealousy within me regarding Ma. I felt that my mother was my rival. If someone called Ma beautiful – if they said, Aparna, you're looking great today – I felt it was a slight on my own appearance. I got angry when I heard anyone praise Ma, then again, I couldn't tolerate any denigration, either. I suffered from a narcissus complex. I would stand for hours in front of the mirror, and think I was far more beautiful than my mother. So why did Uncle Robi praise my mother and not me? I would find a reason to pick a quarrel and create an uproar.
It is girls who must accord chastity the greatest value. When it comes to boys, no one opens their mouths. On behalf of those of us who work outside the home, I speak openly – chastity and suchlike are a joke. Nowada
ys good contraceptives are available even in paan shops, they are sold openly. By giving men our company for an hour or an hour-and-a-half, we get lots of opportunities and benefits that we can use for building our own careers. Is it wrong to build one's career?
For any girl, her mother is her ideal. It is from her mother that she intuits what her role in life will be in future, as a woman. Consequently, there is always an intensity here – either a tendency to oppose or a desire to emulate. Whatever it may be, the mother's influence will always be there on the daughter. He had lost his virginity in a bizarre way. It happened in Bombay, with an elderly woman. The woman had a twenty-four or twenty-five-year-old daughter who studied at university. He was only fifteen then, and inexperienced. So it was the woman who had to be active. She asked him to undo the hook of her blouse, and it took him a very long time. He just couldn't do it. He didn't know anything at all then. You're an idiot, the woman said with a laugh. While removing her clothes in this way, he felt like he was peeling the whorls of an onion. As he removed her clothes, one by one, he was startled, and at the same time despondent. He could still remember, quite clearly, how awkwardly and erroneously he had lost his virginity.
Exactly opposite the writing, an exhibition of porn films ran all night long.
Long queues of people. Of the third world. Hungry and angry. Parallel to this,
the writer wants to test the patience of the readers, to read something perverted. … I love him with my heart and soul and
he wants my body. What shall I do – what shall I do, Aparna – tell me, what shall I do?
The female character in this story thinks her daughter should not have any inhibitions regarding sex. And translating this idea into practice was the most important thing for her. In the Victorian era, men used to get terribly excited if they saw a woman's ankles or a bit of lace on her tummy. Whether there's blazing heat or freezing cold or a night of pouring rain, entertain your loved one while wearing a silky nightie – and if there's some artistic naughtiness in it, just a little, there's nothing more to add. Yes, plainclothesmen keep watch everywhere. There are people from the security forces every few yards. And in the middle of this, two heroines, mother and daughter, naked, bathing next to each other, oh, splashing and frolicking around in the water! For most of the time, the camera gazes at the splashing water. Behind the camera, at first a hard-core film was played, and then two soft ones, one after another, and finally another hard-core. Sex-starved masses. Of the third world. They were head over heels. The camera catches them too. Does the camera alter even the reality of realism? At first, some kind of lubricant has to be applied inside yourself, and the rubber applicator attached to the vibrator also needs to be lubricated. The pain is reduced thereby, and the intensity of feeling is enhanced. But the whole thing is made of transparent plastic. Its length and thickness can be increased or decreased according to your preference. It is fitted with an electric motor. At the peak moment, or for that matter even midway, the velocity of the thrust can be increased. It is reported that the speedy rotation of the vibrator can bring about supreme ecstasy in a minute or less. A photographer from a local daily went to click a picture. His camera was snatched away.
Shirley Tomcuse, of the women's liberation movement
Men want us to wear lace and silk because apparently these arouse them tremendously.
Ms Gloria Steinem, editor of New York's Ms magazine
We don't want to show men our breasts. That's why we don't wear a brassiere, because it flagrantly increases the sex appeal. … In the next century, boys and girls will first establish sound physical relations, and marriages will be made according to their individual needs. What's actually needed in marriage is physical compatibility. All talk of meeting of minds and so on is rubbish, a sham. And remember, it's because of sexuality that human progress will never cease.
Subhas Roy, age thirty-two, married, college teacher
Only married men and women have a right to sex. Men and women are biologically very different. The male's desire for sex is much greater than the female's, this is why men can enjoy unhindered sex before marriage. But women should not do that. Because if a woman has a sexual experience before marriage, the experience after marriage might seem terribly monotonous to her. The man himself wants unrestrained sexual intercourse, but from the woman he demands virginity, because our social heritage has taught us to think this way. That is absolutely correct.
Shailendra Goyal, age twenty-six, film director
Most men love to boast about their sexual experiences before marriage. And women boast about their virginity. If that's so, where did all these men get their sexual experiences? Either most of what men say is false, or else most of the girls are actually not virgins, however much they may boast about it.
Tripurari Ghosh, age thirty, married, stage artist
I wholeheartedly support the notion and existence of chastity. Because it strengthens the basis of mutual trust and understanding between husband and wife. Besides, if this remains intact, a woman would never get the opportunity to compare her husband with other men. And that's what's best for everyone. Women agree to premarital sex only to blackmail men.
Ambika Patel, age twenty-five, unmarried, reporter
The notion of chastity has not become as extinct as we think. The women who decry this loudly, especially unmarried women, actually accord this a lot of significance inwardly. Sometimes for fear that this might come in the way of a good marriage, and sometimes for fear of dishonour. After all, everyone wishes to get married into a respectable, aristocratic family. The more aristocratic they are, whatever they may profess outwardly, inwardly they are just as conservative.
Aparna
I value trustworthiness much more than chastity.
You're a writer, aren't you? No, just like that … that's what I thought as well. If that were not the case, no one would waste their time like this. The way she sat, with one leg lifted high, even the lace on her panties was visible. However much of a writer he might be, he belonged to the male species after all. He did not want to poke his nose into other people's affairs. He gazed in that direction every once in a while as he breathed in the fragrance of French perfume. Even though she knew I was looking at her, she didn't lower her leg. In the end she stated her views on chastity. I think the girl was Goan, it happened at night, on the train from Bombay to Goa.
A slender, doe-like body which should emit fire like Vesuvius when it gets down to business. She had to be extremely artful in bed – otherwise men, that is, the male species, could not be held onto. There is a class of women who, whether they are beautiful or not, are very self-assured. They quickly take off their clothes, without the slightest hesitation, get into bed, and call you.
Measure the depth of your love
(1) Tell me, do your husband's fondles and caresses still give you a tingling sensation, or is it just the opposite? (2) Do you think the sexual act is an expression of deep love or is it a duty of marital life? (3) When any other man lavishes praise on you, do you try to draw your husband's attention to the man's compliments? (4) When your husband jokes about you with his friends, or relates some intimate story about you, do you enjoy it or do you turn grave? (5) Did a situation ever arise when some matter or subject was disclosed to your husband that you didn't want him to know about, and you became terribly angry?
She wants to establish a sexual relation with the masses
The massacre has to take place as the night comes to a close, when dawn is breaking. All night long, the youth dithered. The character emerges from a closely guarded train. Actually it's a story about the physical relationship between man and woman. He wants to make myth and modern militarism stand face-to-face. He selects a woman from among the masses, one who wishes to establish a sexual relation with the masses … If you don't obey your dad, he'll give you such a bleeding fuck that – the mother says to her daughter, giggling as they frolic in the water.
Slip in the two blades together and sprea
d the handles on the two sides. The two blades find place on the sides of the walls. With practice, you'll get a clear view, right up to the mouth of the distant womb. With a speculum – which looks a lot like kitchen tongs – you can see yourself well, on your own. You must try it out. At the time of insertion, the body should be as still as possible. It's a good idea to keep a mirror opposite, and direct the light from a table-lamp at the mirror – then you can see your insides in the mirror. Insert it slowly, gently, keep inserting it, the way a tampon is inserted, keeping the two blades of the speculum pressed together, very slowly. Never hurry in your excitement. If you like, you can also apply some lubricant. After insertion, if you move the two handles apart and lock them in that position, the two blades move to the two sides, giving you a good view of the inside. Now look, at the very end of the passage, the neck of the uterus, clearly visible. Dome-like, smooth, a brownish colour, engorged – you'll be thrilled to see it, you will be astounded. And it's so near that simply by stretching your hand you can see the mouth of the uterus – the womb-hole.
Wild Animals Prohibited Page 16
