The Kinky Mahatma and the prickly Indians

We Indians are a rather prickly lot when it comes any writings on the private lives of our national icons – especially if it is by foreign authors. It is telling that, Indian writers generally steer clear of such “taboo” topics (barring a few like Sudhir Kakar) preferring not to court controversy and brick-bats. Western societies are far less touchy on such matters. You may call it chauvinistic hypocrisy or traits of a schizophrenic national character. It is common knowledge that many of our politicians lead rather colourful (nay,sleazy) lives, but our journos maintain a complicit silence over such stories – which you get to hear in the media cocktail circuit (with the rare exception of some toothless octogenerians like N. D. Tiwari and that too because the matter came into public domain due to a paternity suit filed by an alleged off-spring and his romps at the Hyderabad Raj Bhavan). JFK to Berlusconi

Yet, when it comes to salacious gossip about the sex lives of politicians of other countries – be it a Sarkozy, Berlusconi or serial scandals of British parliamentarians – we gleefully lap it all up and give them prime column space in our newspapers. Stories abound about the numerous love affairs of JFK but we get uptight at the mention of the Nehru-Edwina affair. A biography of Ambdkar that, is given a quiet burial because it mentioned his girl-friends.We fill our pages with pictures and stories of Prince William and his Kate - but never talk about our own Prince-in-waiting's Spanish girl-friend. Curiously, we apply different standards even for our neighbours in the sub-continent. After Shahbaz Bhatti – the liberal Governor of Pakistan’s Punjab province – was assassinated recently, a leading magazine carried a story about his playboy past – including details of his love child with a yesteryear diva of Indian media – now a significant other of a well-know industrialist. Perhaps, there was some professional envy at play there. So – every once in a few years when there is a new book on Gandhi that contains some references to his sexuality (something Gandhi had himself dwelt at some length in his Autobiography – My Experiments with Truth ) there is predictable public outrage followed by demand for banning of the book that finally whittles down to cynical dismissal as a cheap ‘publicity stunt’. The latest being the biography written by the Pulitzer winning former editor of New York Times – Joseph Lelyveld (Great Soul: Mahatma Gandhi and His Struggle with India). In what is by all accounts a very well researched biography – what has made head-lines are some passing quotations from letters written by Gandhi to his proclaimed “soulmate” Hermann Kallenbach, which has strong hints of his homosexual tendencies. “Your portrait (the only one) stands on my mantelpiece in my bedroom. The mantelpiece is opposite my bed…..how completely you have taken possession of my body. This is slavery with vengeance”, he wrote to Kallenbach, a wealthy bachelor of who later donated large parts of his considerable fortunes to Gandhi and remained his “follower” for life. Such is the extent of our blind worship that – we unquestioningly accept Gandhi’s somewhat specious explanation of why he chose to sleep naked with nubile young female companions. Boudi Boudoir

We are equally reticent about the love lives of our celebrities in the world of arts, film and literature. Stories abound about of the scores of muses (read, lovers) Tagore had in his long lifetime starting at a very young age with his sister-in-law (legitimizing the “boudi boudoir” tradition among Bongs) - but none of that is documented. Satyajit Ray’s affair with the heroine of some of his early masterpieces came to light after his death – when the lady in question decided to speak up. But, it was allowed to die down and we were happy to believe his wife’s version that apart from that one instance of straying (which she magnanimously condones as an error of judgement) he never looked outside of his marriage – though, some knowledgeable persons have their own casting couch theories. Sudhir Kakar, Jeffrey Kripal and some other psychologists have espoused controversial theories about Sri Ramakrishna’s sexuality, which have met with rightful condemnation from the “believers” (including yours truly).

Sex(uality) maketh a man

All this is not about vicarious voyeurism. What we fail to recognize is that, a person’s sexuality is a very important part in his evolution. You cannot fathom a great person in totality without understanding his sexuality. Though I wouldn’t go as far as saying ‘sex maketh a man’ (in more senses than one) – it certainly forms the essence of his personality. Even as Lelyveld himself argues "it is an effort of imagination that we should at least attempt" in our trying to understand what Gandhi aspired through his 'experiments'(he calls it a form of 'sexlessness' rather than bi-sexualism - or what is referred to as 'flexi-sexualism nowadays). We tend to easily deify our heroes and like to see them only in white. But, it is the shades of black and grey that truly defines them. Certainly – a Nityananda is no Gandhi – but I wonder what would have been the public reaction to similar “experiments” conducted – be it within the confines of a commune – in the this day and age - with our spycams and 'sting' operations.

Celebrity chatter

I have never made a secret of my partiality towards pretty co-passengers on a flight. They are the ultimate objects of fantasy in mid-air and I find their company immensely energizing especially on a long-haul. I enjoy talking to interesting fellow travellers of either sex. I don’t mind even a crass politician next to me. But, somehow, I am not one of those who get starry eyed with a tinsel town celebrity on the plane. You may call it some kind of an inverse snobbery. But the truth is, I find most of them (and, I have met a few) – intellectually challenged, outright boring and suffocating. A majority can’t even make decent conversation and I am usually overcome by pity at their strained attempt to behave ‘normal’ in an acutely synthetic and self-conscious way. Only a few can really drop their airs. But, why should they? After all, they have worked hard to reach where they have and it all comes as a part of the accoutrement of stardom.

Part offended, part be-friended

So once – while flying back from Bangalore to Mumbai, I part surprised and part offended Sharmila Tagore by moving over to a free set across the aisle. She was flummoxed. I had to think of an excuse on the fly and told her, I didn’t wish to disturb her with my snoring, which she acknowledged with an understanding smile – looking somewhat re-assured. On another occasion – about which my boss can’t stop teasing me – I had a nubile Bollywood starlet seated next to me. Her Mom - a “has been” Bengali Bombshell (in more ways than one) and herself the daughter of a legendary Bengali actress was on the row behind us. When I gallantly offered her my seat (which I declared was an act of "supreme sacrifice" on my part only to allow mother daughter bonding in the skies) she looked at me with utter disbelief and said with a knowing smile – “you must be a married man and afraid of your wife – otherwise how could you give up such an opportunity ?”. "No !!", I retorted, " it's just that I am travelling with my Boss (who was a few seats away)".


Kafka on the plane

Occasionally one is surprised tho’ .. like on a recent trip to Calcutta on one of the budget airlines, I met this very sharp-looking young girl – reading Murakami’s Kafka on the Shore. I initially mistook her as a college kid going home for her vacation and tried to strike a conversation about her taste in literature. But, she turned out to be one of the latest imports of “Tollywood”. Daughter of a Bihari IAS officer and a Punjabi mother – who’s acts in Hindi TV serials, she wants to take up acting as a career and was cutting her teeth in Bengali films.

But, most of them make a sad spectacle. For example, very often on the Saturday morning Kingfisher flight from Calcutta to Mumbai, I travel with a faded and aged matinee idol of the 70s and 80s. Though he has done some very meaningful roles lately (both in art films and main-stream cinema) – nowadays, he now appears frequently as judge on TV "reality shows". I am bemused to see him desperately seeking attention – in his black denim jacket and jeans with ankle high suede boots and Ray-ban shades. And, how his shriveled up skin picks up a faint glow of delight - every time someone walks up to him for an autograph or a request to pose before a mobile-phone camera for a photograph with their accompanying son or daughter.

Then there are the mousy looking "item girls" and emaciated models. But, the good part is – since they mostly lead nocturnal lives – on flights they immediately curl-up under blankets and go to sleep putting on their eye-pads.

Even they are barely tolerable… but now we have a new crop of celebrities taking over the front section of the aircraft. They are the TV anchors – who fancy themselves as being the ‘thinking men’s stars’. Instant recognition and intellectual pretensions make a heady combination – as one of them recently wrote in her own blog (Click here to read)


Testosterone Heroes

Cricketers are a different lot altogether. Frankly, even they leave me a trifle cold – not that I have met too many of them. Some come across as supremely arrogant – though I am told, the best of them are unmistakably cerebral and decidedly modest. I believe, Sourav Ganguly – who was labeled as Bengal’s only testosterone hero after Subhash Bose –falls somewhere in-between. But, last evening – on an official call of duty - I got to spend quite some time with Mahi ( M S Dhoni) and was completely bowled over by his disarming candour and genuine warmth. With his feet and head exactly where they ought to be (firmly on the ground and the shoulder - respectively), I feel confident that the Indian team is safe in his keeper’s hands – notwithstanding the controversies cooked up by the media and fuelled by the machiavellian shenanigans of the BCCI politicos.