While flipping channels, I came across a hair dyed (probably Black Rose Kaali Mehndi), 61 years old Rajnikant romancing Aishwarya Rai. Now imagine Aishwarya at the age of 61, wearing a gorgeous black wig and kilos of makeup, romancing Hrithik Roshan’s son in a movie. Imagine the jolt it will send through the Indian citizens who will then talk about umar ka lihaz (respect for one’s age) and about the effect this sinful on-screen romance will have on Ash’s family and our Nirma white society.
Of course, it isn’t going to happen because this is not America and we have high moral and cultural standards before 6 pm when there is still sunlight.
Of course, Rajnikant has a daughter too but isn’t it simulating to watch old balding, dyed heroes with younger, virgin (or virgin looking) actresses? It gives a lot of men what they truly desire. Dreams, hope and erections. Not in that particular order.
The point being that the only asset that an Indian actress should possess to arouse the Indian male and the box-office is that she should be a Kacchi Kali (Raw Bloom).
Let me share a secret with you. We men love to put up posters of actresses (recently replaced by wallpapers on desktops for middle class onwards) in our bedroom and kiss them goodbye every night, sometimes very passionately. We do a lot of Hiiiii-uffffff-taubaaaa staring at those wallpapers. We also have seductive and gyratory pictures of actresses tucked away under our bed to pass our lonely times. Their parted red lips, hint of bosoms and legs, the hourglass figure at display are our true companions in nights of despair. The rule of thumb (unless we have a fetish for married women) is that we do this only with actresses who are still untouched by any other man. Any actress who gets married is like a Paraya Maal (someone else’s goods) to us. We are very cultured and we do not look at someone else’s women with galat nigaah (wrong eyes), unless we are in a group, completely drunk, have a car at our disposal and know of a desolate place nearby.
We like our actresses to be virgins and unmarried because without that, feel nahi aati (feel doesn’t come). What is the point of imagining yourself hugging an actress like a snake hugging Chandan ka tree if she is committed to someone else? In Om Shanti Om, the villain kills his wife (who is a popular actress) after she threatens to reveal the dirty secret of their marriage and her pregnancy to the world. This should have shattered the villain’s plan of featuring the (supposedly) virgin actress in a big budget movie. He then burns her up with the sets. He commits this sacrifice to earn money by providing what the Indian male wants – an unchui kaatil jawani (untouched killer youth).
No wonder that the moment an actress gets married, she is not hot anymore. Getting married is the last thing on the minds of our virgin raatoon ki raanis (queens of nights) too because that would be the end of their career. We will throw them out. We will shed a few tears and label them someone’s ghar ki laaj (house’s honour). Imagine Katreena Kaif, married and having a year old kid in real life and dancing to Chikni Chameli. Ufff, what horror, no? Imagine Kareena dancing to ‘Halkat jawani’ after she gets married. Just like thanda (cold) tea! It’s not as if actresses have not tried it. Post marriage and two sons, Madhuri moved her torso in Aaja Nachle like a building in an 8.3 magnitude earthquake. Somehow the audience could not get the point. They were too confused to react.
And remember Rekha rolling in mud with Akshay Kumar and hanging from the hair on his chest and singing ‘In the night, no control’? The audience lapped it up with a faint hope of her unblemished everlasting virginity.
Kajol was an exception but somehow we believe she a) did not do enough item numbers to titillate the Indian male b) had a square jaw c) had the gait of Marlon Brando.
Our legendary directors have banked so heavily on this obsession of us men that ever since we attained independence, they have churned out hit movies and songs glorifying the kamsin (God knows what this bloody word means), nadaan (naive), nazuk (soft) leading ladies who shudder at every touch of our hero, who dare not commit a bhool (sex sin) amidst heavy rain and lightning and even if they did, they would repent it for the rest of their kati patang-ish (cut kite-ish) life. This has been petrol on the fires that burn in the hearts of us men. We have also picked up details from our movies like eve-teasers always get the girls in the end but let’s not go there.
We, the Indian the men, know that we are never going to meet the virginal females who appear on a two-dimensional screen but they ignite enough desires in us to manifest our fantasies in real life. Stop any guy on the road and ask him whether he wants a wife who is a virgin and pat comes the reply – Of course! What a ridiculous question! My heart has always burnt in virginal oils.
What about your sir? Are you a virgin?
No, I had sex with a poster once.
Errr, that doesn’t count.
Ok. I went to a hill-station with friends once. We paid a call girl to go with us.
So, you are not a virgin yourself?
How does that matter?
Well, that is how it has been in our culture-vulture.
That is why all our heroes are married and have kids but an actress waits till her last egg to get married.
That is why female fans are very adjusting. They are fine drooling over balding, middle-aged, father-of-two heroes. They are not seasoned to attach virginity to men. It will be like attaching a sari to Poonam Pandey or an underwear to dirty Harry.
That is why we make sure that the bride is a virgin no matter that the groom has slept with every woman and animal in town.
Yes, we like our virgins. Sunny side up.
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