Bodies in custody

A seventh-century woman poet-saint in south India and an imaginary queen from a 16th-century epic poem in north India have both roused the 21st-century Indian man to medieval levels of wrath, as the self-appointed guardians of their name and honour.

As disturbing developments in many parts of Rajasthan and other places in north India, as also in Tamil Nadu have shown this year, the concept of female honour, their cultural and religious iconography are measured even today in terms of their bodies and sexuality. And, parallelly, the reputation of the respective communities rests on the honour of their female icons and their sexual purity.

Take the men from the Karni Sena and their fold in north India, for instance. Their threats included physical violence and social disruption to avenge the perceived slights to their community and honour in the depiction of Rani Padmavati in a commercial film. The anger over a suspected “dream sequence” — an absurd Bollywood euphemism for a romantic encounter — between a Muslim king and Hindu queen, roused them to call for murder.

“The problem arises as these Indian men have no identity of their own in today’s world. Why does the male seek his honour in a female’s vagina?” asks writer Anuja Chauhan.

In Tamil Nadu, BJP leaders and elderly brahmin members of religious bodies tussled with male rationalists over the issue of safeguarding the female honour and reputation of the Vaishnava poet-saint Andal. They chose to use slander on public forums and curses and abuses on social media to vent their fury. They have sought legal recourse for the hurt caused to religious and community sentiments.

In all this cacophony, the sane voices are those of artists, including many from the Isai Vellalar community, who pointed out that devadasi is not a slur to be traded by men. The Indian woman, fictional, mythological or real, has her own agency.

“In a country where even rape victims are offered dignity by protecting their identity, this incident has shown how an entire community has been victimised and slurs cast on the women of the dasi tradition and this valuable heritage of artists,” says Nrithya Pillai, a Bharatanatyam dancer in the Isai Vellalar tradition.

The patriarchs of both regions believe that their code of female deification, myth-making and history rested on her sexual probity. The goddess trope was the easiest and most comforting — infusing her status with reverence and earthly unattainability. Any suggestion of desire or fantasy on her part elicited affront from them.

A little perspective would go a long way in showing how man-hours (not sorry about the bad pun) have been used up in debates and angry calls for apologies and threats against modern reinterpretations of female cult figures.

Padmaavat the film is problematic in its representation of female honour associated with jauhar and the historical distortion of a Muslim emperor as a barbarian.

“Men should seek individuality and an identity of their own and stop defining themselves and seeking glory through caste, community and their masculinity and control of women,” says Chauhan.

Fire and fury A “dream sequence” between a Muslim king and a Hindu queen in Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Padmaavat incensed vigilante groups in several parts of north India

In Tamil Nadu, poet-lyricist R Vairamuthu presented an article in a public forum on the saint Andal. Extolling her beautiful hymns and verses, Vairamuthu said Andal was a true devadasi who entered the temple and shrine of Vishnu for her mystical union.

Devadasis were a community of artistes affiliated to the temple performing arts in ancient times. And just around the dawn of the 20th century, with the dissolution of monarchy and colonialism, their economic and social status fell. The Madras Devadasi Act of 1947 was enacted to put an end to the community’s primary artistic vocations, and the word dasi reduced to a colloquial slur.

“India has democratic ideals and upholds equality under law. However, in the matter of community honour, women are easily made the first casualty if they don’t fit the male moral supremacy. A man can be polygamous and it uplifts his status, while a woman cannot,” says Pillai, who found the social media platforms rife with vicious comments from trolls in the wake of the controversy.

Local BJP and AIADMK leaders, and the Vaishnava leaders were outraged. The videos on social media were full of abuses for Vairamuthu and called for him to “fall at the altar of Andal’s shrine and beg for forgiveness”. While many pointed out that Vairamuthu’s theory was clumsily researched, the abuses included calling him “black” and “a mediocre writer masquerading as a poet”. Vairamuthu’s apologies and the support of some secular and Dravidian party leaders were shouted down.

The latest news that has washed around is that the Sarva Brahman Mahasabha has mounted protests against the forthcoming Kangana Ranaut-starrer Manikarnika for an alleged depiction of romance between the Rani of Jhansi and an Englishman.

It is time Indian men stop deciding what’s honourable for the mythological or historical female icons and revisit their vocabulary and attitudes that have passed their sell date.

Sudha G Tilak is a Delhi-based journalist

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