|
Some years ago, I was struck by
the contrast between the beauty of Hindi film heroines and
the ugliness of Hindi film heroes. After researching the
matter, I concluded that the explanation was straightforward:
leading men in Hindi films were ugly because they were Indian
men, and Indian men were measurably uglier than Indian women.
You don’t have to take my word for it: cursory surveys of
marriages, morchas, classrooms, offices and homes
will bear out this observation.
While my observation was accurate
and the data I had gathered reliable, I made the mistake
of attributing the ugliness of the Indian male to nature.
I know now that Indian men aren’t born ugly: they achieve
ugliness through practice. It is their habits and routines
that make them ugly. If I was to be schematic, I’d argue
that Indian men are ugly on account of the three Hs: hygiene,
hair and horrible habits.
Let’s start with their extremities.
Examine the nails of any Indian man: the cuticles will be
yellow with haldi and the underside of the bitten-off
tip will be spotty with accumulated dirt. When you think
of where they put those nails, this is not surprising. I’ve
seen respectable men conducting conversations with their
index fingers two-digits deep in their nostrils, digging
with industrial enthusiasm. If you ever see a desi
man delicately rubbing the tip of his index finger over
the pad of his thumb, beware. Don’t go near him: he’s rolling
the bogies he’s mined into little balls.
He uses those same fingers to
adjust himself in public. All Indian men do this, without
exception. The refined ones do it furtively, but the majority
do it openly without shame or embarrassment. A famous Indian
batsman does this regularly with the butt end of his bat
handle under the gaze of thousands of spectators. You can’t
do this and be good-looking, you really can’t. You could
be John Abraham (an exception to our ugly rule) and your
looks wouldn’t survive this particular habit. And if it
isn’t the thumb and forefinger, it’s the pinkie inserted
into the ear and vibrated with manic vigour. This generally
comes with eye-rolling and little oinks of pleasure. You’ll
never see women doing this, only men. It’s an important
route to ugliness.
The sounds they make are crucial
to the unattractiveness of Indian men. For example, an Indian
man with a cold will, in company, try to snort up the congestion
and swallow it. He’ll do it over and over again, completely
unaware of the revulsion it causes. When he eats, there’s
another repertoire of sounds born of the fact that sub-continental
men don’t keep their lips together while chewing. If you
think this doesn’t apply to you because you do keep your
mouth shut while processing food, you’re wrong. A second
before swallowing, you part your lips and swipe your tongue
over your palate, to juice the last taste out of the morsel,
and you make a sucking noise. If you want to test this out,
use grapes: they generate the slurpiest sounds.
But hair habits do even more to
intensify the ugliness of Indian men than the sounds they
involuntarily make. Statistically, some ninety per cent
of all south Asian men wear moustaches, their masculinity
seems to be critically dependent on this growth. I don’t
mean the beard-cum-moustaches style which is respectable,
but the standalone moustache. Even here, a bushy, Zapata-style
moustache has something going for it, but the styles Indian
men favour are a) the twirled moustache and b) the little
trimmed one. The first makes its host ridiculous, the second
makes him look like a harried clerk or, if the hair has
been trimmed into a thin line, like a sexual predator.
Middle-aged men improve on this
by dyeing their hair a radiant black then letting their
roots show. Or, like General Musharraf, they will dye the
hair on top of their heads but leave their side-burns grey
because they think they’ve read somewhere that this makes
them look distinguished. It doesn’t: it makes them look
like unreliable car-dealers.
Indian men wear badly because
they look into magic mirrors that hide the changes middle-age
brings. For example, they don’t notice the hair growing
out of their nostrils in little tufts and, consequently,
don’t trim it. Even worse, the hair bristling out of their
ears in great wiry jets is invisible to them because their
narcissism is so complete, so proofed against reality, that
what they see in the mirror is not their reflection but
a favourite photograph taken twenty years and twenty kilos
ago.
But speaking for myself, the oddest
aspect of the Indian man is the things he’s willing to wear,
and I’m not talking about his dress sense because that would
need a book. I’m talking, for example, about the thick bands
of rotting pink threads that north Indian men wear around
their wrists. I’m sure there’s some respectable ritual reason
for this that requires them to keep these threads on till
they discolour and fall off, but why would you change your
clothes every day if you’re willing to wear something that
you sweat into for weeks?
Then there’s their keenness on
necklaces. Not one, but as many as they can wear. Not content
with doing this, they leave the top buttons of their shirts
unbuttoned so you can see that tangled jumble of amulets
and gold chains and lockets. Sreesanth and Ganguly wear
so many that they look like shady trinket vendors.
Any inventory of the ways in which
Indian men achieve ugliness has to include their relationship
with rings. We’re not talking about nice rings, say a discreet
wedding band, but cheap rings with coloured stones in tarnished
silver settings worn on every finger of both hands, not
excluding thumbs. Since the average Indian man’s fingers
aren’t long and slender, the net effect is one of sausages
banded with metal.
Why are Indian men like this?
How do they achieve the bullet-proof unselfconsciousness
that allows them to be so abandonedly ugly? I think it comes
from a sense of entitlement that’s hard-wired into every
male child that grows up in an Indian household. That, and
the not unimportant fact that, despite the way they look,
they’re always paired off with good-looking women.
|