A lot of us loved Love Sex Aur Dhoka. A part of me did too; however, a part of me was disgusted, stirred and shocked beyond my fragile competence.
To paint a picture: I saw this movie at the behest of Oyster Seeker. I was with one of the safest, coolest dudes I know. But I was still insecure, by the midst of the second story (SEX). Usually all chatty and funny, I had my hands and feet tightly crossed; as if I was holding liters of urine or grabbing tight my sense of self.
The only question reeling in my head was ‘how could someone do such a thing?’ The very next thought was that ‘only a man could do such a thing’. My general opinion of men is very low, women is even lower. Men disgust me; they are filthy and juvenile – in their minds, their bodies, their languages, their attitudes, their habits… the term Lech was invented for their forever hungry eyes. What scares me the most is their ability to turn something beautiful into something so disgusting, that it’d stay in your system and give you shivers. LSD gave me shivers. I ached for some sanity, and Oyster Seeker’s ‘it’s just a film, k’ did not help. For him, I was overreacting, I was not being sporty, I was being a pain in the wrong place by condemning his penile species.
But I do hate men. Anyway, there is very little about them to like.
Fortnight later, {when I got over the film; and my nightmares of all the men in my life doing horrifying things to my image had finally stopped,} I consciously pondered on what this three part film was all about.
I concluded that it was about a person within that we seemed to entertain once in a while. Like Oyster Seeker’s indulgent ‘shopaholic’, Chameleon’s ‘sleaze ball’, Loud mouth’s ‘cruel tyrant’… We all have a liar, a cheat, a thief, a slave and a voyeur within us. Just as we have a savior, a friend, a shoulder, and a saint within us. Problem is that the voyeur feeds on titillation, and our minds are great at creating carrots for donkeys. The media lusts over violence, patriotic movies vicariously make you dream of bombing your neighboring country. Inventors make you yearn to pick up that ‘up-on-the-market-only-for- you-piece’; you ogle and ogle at the mannequins on the window sill or sneak a peek at the latest gadget on the net.
However Sexual titillation is everyone’s all time favorite. Be it imagining a bikini clad woman in a burqua or guessing some passer-by’s bra size or watching porn or someone’s intimate act of love making/kissing.
My problem is that we never say ‘no’ to this titillation, we never refuse to have the dirt of nude pictures, clips or genital jokes. My bigger problem is that (as men are the fore runners of this filth) I am yet to find a man who takes offence to all or any of the above in the privacy of this back slapping, bluetoothed friend circle.
