So far, the done-to-death Bollywood plot has revolved around one four letter world – LOVE. The kind that makes the protagonists run around trees, The one that up until the late 90s, didn’t even acknowledge that emotional attraction resulting in physical intimacy was a perfectly natural, biological process. I, for one, am reminded of days when anything with a slight hint of carnal affection was substituted rather poorly by showing two flowers brushing against each other?
Flash forward to times today. Audiences have evolved. Even though mention of sex does raise eyebrows, we’ve moved past the flowers kissing phase, showing real people. In such a scenario, what happens when LUST, another four letter world, one that has so far been socially booed and shame-shamed, gets thrown at four stalwarts of contemporary Bollywood, and each one of them is given the opportunity to interpret this in their own manner?
Boy, do they come out fantastic results. Each one different, yet very relatable. Perhaps the only thing that’s uncannily common in all four of them is that in all four cases, the protagonist happens to be a woman.
Each tiny tale, takes a life and path of its own, not shaming carnal desire, but rather accepting a normal, human need.
A free-spirited schoolteacher, who openly experiments with her sexual adventures, breaking convention, stereotype and the stigma associated with open marriages.
A household help who gives in to her employers sexual advances, only to be reminded , of her status quo in society. Confronting the harsh truth that her employer will bed her, yet will wed only someone who belongs to his own strata – socially and educationally.
A middle-aged woman, who resorts to infidelity as her only solace, her escape route out of a loveless marriage, a career she ditched in favor of domestic bliss, and a husband who prides himself on the fact that he owns her.
And finally, my personal favorite of the lot, the dilemma of a newly-wed woman, who is coming to terms with the fact that her husband treats sex as an act of one-sided pleasure, not even being able to comprehend her hints about being unsatisfied.
As a millennial, urban Indian woman myself, the takeaway I get when I watch a series like this is that none of the situations seem unfamiliar. The multiple facets of love, sex, relationships presented on screen depict slices of the huge pie that is contemporary Indian society. One that’s realizing over time that sex and sexuality, are not physical privileges, they’re basic human needs. One that’s only still coming to accept that sexual pleasure is as much as a female prerogative as much as it is of a male. One that’s opening up the idea of sexual pleasure being prevalent in multiple colors, flavours and forms.
The feisty kind. The guilty pleasure kind. The unapologetic kind. The desirable kind.
And to each one of them, a woman has equal right as much as a man. While ironically, a land that produced the world’s encyclopedia to sex, the Kama Sutra, shouldn’t have to be emphasizing the fact that love making is a two way traffic, I’m glad we’re having that conversation. Or at least, beginning to.