Yes! I am a Woman. I have breasts AND a cleavage! You got a problem!!??” tweeted Deepika Padukone (@deepikapadukone) on September 14 in response to a video grab of her posted online.

The Bollywood star — a shero of the t2 girl gang — followed it up on September 19 with a longer response on her Facebook page, where one of the things she said was, “A character may demand that I be clothed from head to toe or be completely naked, and it will be my choice as an actor whether or not I take either. Understand that this is a ROLE and not REAL, and it is my job to portray whatever character I choose to play convincingly”

She goes on to say... “I have no issue celebrating my body and I have never shied away from anything on-screen to portray a character. In fact my next character portrayed is a bar dancer (sorry Farah for the spoiler!) who titillates men as a means to support her livelihood. My issue is you propagating the objectification of a REAL person, and not a character being played.... All I am asking for is respect as a woman off-screen....”

I may be the great divide but I unite all women. Who am I?

My name is cleavage.

Don’t want to blow my hooters (intentional ridiculous choice of words here) but I’m a rather popular asset. The girls wish they had more of me and the boys wish they could see more of me.

Some are proud to show me off, some hide me like an ugly scar. It all depends on who I belong to.

The other day Deepika Padukone made me a star. I peeped out to see the world and was sent scurrying back to my darkness in disgrace. So the famous Indian Bollywood actress tweeted in my defence. A few days later, she ranted on Facebook too. It’s not often that someone stands up for me. I salute Deepika. At least someone isn’t finding it fanny.

So far the only support extended to an underdog like me has been the underwire. So I thought this would be the best time to speak out on the great divide. Because, you guessed it, the nation wants to know.

The beach (and the bedroom) are my favourite places to be. On Sunday, I returned from a splendid vacation in Thailand. On the white sands of Ko Chang, a skimpy bikini played out my best features as I soaked in a good dose of Vitamin D. I saw a pretty young thing show off cleavage like it was the normal thing to do. She wasn’t labelled “suggestive”. The difference between us was not just our skin colour but that her freedom was forever and mine only as lasting as chewing gum. A pampering portion of sunscreen (anything above SPF 40, please) later, I let the matter breast in peace.

But where there’s a dil, there’s a way. Eager to get my share of freedom and fun, at night I let my wink of flesh surface above sea level.

In public, though, I tread carefully. In a crowded bus or rush-hour Metro, elbows are my BFF. When push comes to shove, they can pack in quite a punch to protect my dignity. In dingy lanes with roving eyes, the handbag or book is pressed close to me. I can barely breathe but I believe it’s all for a cause. And just when I think it’s sight-seeing day, a stole is wrapped around blocking my view. In so many other countries I’m not judged for showing up (unless it gets to Nipplegate) but in India, there’s a gap of generations not just the gap that’s gaped at. Let me add here that I speak for breasts too because I am but a thin line between the two.

Okay, that was deep. So were the cuts of the restoration costumes in the 1700s. And when The Wicked Lady, set in those times, was released in England in 1945, a ravishing Margaret Lockwood and her astounding cleavage made it sell more tickets than the Harry Potters and Lord of Rings of today. But don’t confuse reel with real. As a celebrity asset, I need to convincingly play the role. Think Vidya Balan in The Dirty Picture. As a common Indian woman, I’m usually covered with a stifling top button or a stuffy stole.

Admire me but respect me, is all I ask. I want to wear a push-up bra without being judged. Because right behind (actually, left of) every cleavage there is a heart and the only letters I want you dropping into my letterbox are not size A, B and C but L for Love, D for Dignity and T for Thank (you) Deepika.

I support Deepika’s statement because... Tell t2@abp.in

in 50 words

I only have one request to men — discard your primitive mentality. Be sensitive and be human. A woman is not provoking you when she wears a cleavage-revealing outfit. It is her birthright to choose what she wants to wear. I wear revealing outfits most of the time in films or to social functions. Though my colleagues respect me and my profession, I have often heard derogatory comments from the male members in my family. One even said he would never allow his daughter to become a heroine because he cannot stand the sight of her in a mini- skirt! There’s more to a woman than her boobs and cleavage. I might have to show skin on screen but I am also a National Award winner.

—       Rituparna Sengupta, actress

 

Why only cleavage, even when I wear a backless choli I am ogled by men. In fact men stare at and pass lewd comments on a woman covered from head to toe!

As an actress, I think the first thing about shedding one’s inhibition is wearing clothes that show skin. That’s the demand of our profession. One might argue that Rekha, for instance, has mostly worn air-hostess blouses with a sari. But has she been spared the ogling? Women have their assets, whether they flaunt or hide is up to them. As for me, I am very comfortable in cleavage-revealing dresses and backless cholis and I don’t care if men are ogling. I’m very comfortable with my body.

—       Swastika Mukherjee, actress

 

I have never felt uncomfortable or being ogled. See, if I choose to wear a cleavage-revealing top to a party or an event and if I notice men staring at my cleavage, why should that make me feel bad? I mean I have chosen to wear that particular top, right? And if men stare at me I take that as a compliment. But if somebody passes a nasty comment on my face, yes, then I will feel bad. But so far nothing nasty has happened to me. As far as men ogling is concerned, well, everyone stares and ogles beautiful things!

—       Paoli Dam, actress

 

 

 

On the ramp, I don’t want to look cheap, but if there is a hint or something, then, of course, why not?! When a garment is made just to titillate, then I have a problem with it, but if it is a beautiful garment with a hint of cleavage, I don’t even think about it. I am conscious because men are like this and it is getting worse. Ten years back I was much freer with my clothing. Now I am not and don’t let my daughter (Nayantara) be either, because times are changing. I don’t let her wear shorts in Delhi unless we are going to a mall… though she is only 11. Even in a humid country like ours women are restricted to clothes that cover everything because men are unevolved.

—       Nayanika Chatterjee, model

 

In my play Khatti Imli... Meethe Ber, there was one dialogue that said, ‘Each and every skin show should be allowed. A female body should be respected, not molested.’ And it was a very important statement because that is how it should be. A lot of my writer friends questioned me about how I could say each and every skin show should be allowed. I think a woman is grown up enough and intelligent enough to know what is vulgar and what is modest for her. No one has the right to dictate that to her.

—       Ramanjit Kaur, theatre personality

 

What a woman wears should depend entirely on her choice. If you don’t like what she is wearing, just don’t look! That is also the message of My Short Skirt, one of the pieces in Eve Ensler’s play Emotional Creature that we are currently performing. One of the most fabulous lines here says, ‘My short skirt, believe it or not, has nothing to do with you’. And the piece ends with, ‘My short skirt and everything under it, is mine, mine, mine!’

When men wear those tight, crotch-hugging low-waist jeans that leave little to the imagination, we don’t objectify them, so why should a woman’s clothes and body be subjected to such scrutiny?

— Mahabanoo Mody-Kotwal, theatre personality