How well do you know your men?

Tehelka has this occasional series on Indian men, which the magazine began with this hilarious look at the contradictions in the Malayali male by Nisha Susan, the magazine's assistant editor.

Here is an excerpt:

(Yet,) seeking the typical Malayali man is a slippery affair. Each one looks out moodily and introspectively at you from behind varying amounts of facial hair. He’s sure he’s not typical, sure he’s misunderstood by his community. Simultaneously, he likes being Malayali and sure he’s the distilled Malayali, and others crude abominations.

Then came the dissection of the UP, or Uttar Pradesh, man by Annie Zaidi, the Mumbai-based writer and author, who brings up the three broad categories into which she cast the UP man when she was growing up:

White chikan kurta-clad sons of former zamindars who continue to rear pigeons and fly kites as a full-time occupation and sometimes carried guns, almost like a liability; the lean, inscrutable rickshaw-pullers/stone-breakers/gardeners; and the westernised, English-speaking intellectual. There was a time when, if a Hindi filmmaker wanted to create the character of a provincial intellectual, he would place the character in Allahabad — once known as the Oxford of the East. By the time I grew up, UP had cast off any intellectual pretensions it had and settled firmly into a mould defined by politics, caste and religion.

Now, in the issue of May 1, Tehelka holds a magnifying glass over the Marwari man. "Don't show me the money, show me your mummy" is the headline to Tusha Mittal's insider piece on a world that is easily recognisable if you're a Marwari, like Tusha, one of the magazine's principal correspondents. Here is an excerpt:

At his core, the Marwari man is a staid, almost docile, apolitical creature. Independent thinking has never been a good value. Asking questions is taboo.

 

That is why a good Marwari mummy was horrified when her 16-year-old boy declared he wanted to be a journalist: “I have failed to bring you up”. Soon, the trauma took on entirely new proportions. “English honours? Isn’t that what girls do?” That was the first time the boy realised what it means to be a Marwari man. (Unless 3/50 in Math counts as the definitive moment of truth.)

What has been deemed sacred in the Marwari home is “respect for elders” — a master stroke, a classic euphemism to ensure the old patriarchal values remain unchallenged and unquestioned. In the Marwari world, the daughter is merely an impediment in the quest for a son. A child of privilege, the Marwari man has always been comfortable with this status quo. “If the first child is a daughter, there’s a fear of what the second will be,” says Reshma Jain, editor of Marwar. If the second is a girl, try a third. If that fails, the bride and her chromosomes have clearly not understood the good values that prevail in Marwari society.

All these pieces are laced with humour and written in good faith. Even so, there seem to be plenty of home truths for readers to absorb and think about.

Here Kirti Bhotika (Class of 2008) gives us her reaction to the analysis of the Marwari man after I had sent her the link by email with my question: Anyone you know? Or recognise?

Hahaha! Pretty much the whole clan!!! Why do you think I am marrying a guy who's NOT a Marwari :D

Most of the article is absolutely true, Sir. But yes, things are changing. I have cousins who are working, (and no, they are not interior designers or fashion designers running a small boutique out of that extra useless room in their big houses) who are serious about their careers AND with the consent of not just their husband but the whole family! And I really admire those families. But yes, it is true that these kind of families would only be a small percentage. Another change that I have noticed is that Marwaris are happy if a girl is born - I must mention here that my father was overjoyed when I was born and distributed pots of rasgullas to the family, extended family, neighborhood, etc etc etc. :) What can I say, I am blessed! It's no longer a taboo when a girl is born in the family... There have been innumerable incidents of a son/sons betraying the father so finally it's dawned upon them that girls prove to be better in the long term. Yes! Girls rock! 

And Sir, among all the cons, I love the pro that we still are so attached to our culture and traditions - I don't know where else would one follow all of it, with so much pride. It's a lot of fun and binds us together, I wouldn't want to let go of it.

Yes, the weddings are bit show-off, but that can't be helped - our fathers believe, you got it or not, you flaunt it. Am not particularly happy about this...

Would just like to end with this - every clan/caste/religion has its own set of pros and cons and we should strive to accept the pros and change the cons as much as we can, for the progress of our society.

All valid points, Kirti. What do others have to say?

• The July 10 issue of Tehelka has Pragya Tiwari's illuminating piece on the Bengali man. Read it here.