Actor-turned politician Vijayakant is 64 today. Once a hero who set the box-office ringing with his action sequences and punch dialogues, Vijayakant is currently a bit of a joke in Tamil Nadu and elsewhere.

‘Captain’, as he is popularly known, has become the king of social media memes, the darling of YouTube comedy seekers, and the decimated leader of his political party, the DMDK.

Ah well, they say only the "Chatriyan" who goes to battle can fall off his horse.

Vijayakant is an unlikely hero any which way you look at it. Dark-skinned, yellow-eyed and rapidly going from fit to not-so-fit, he’s a far cry from the chocolate boy types who can convincingly pull off a romance sequence with the blushing heroine.

And yet, watch the Captain sportingly give it all that he’s got in this number from “Narasimha” with Isha Koppikar:

That’s pizzazz for you. In the “Amul Baby” song from “Vanjinathan”, he’s as much the object of Ramya Krishnan’s lust as she is his.

Take that, six-pack obsessed Bollywood!

Vijayakant’s lengthy monologues on patriotism, terrorism, feudalism and many other –isms could make you wonder if he was a Greek orator in a previous birth.

His bizarre behaviour at public meetings and press meets, his tendency to make faces at solemn events, his increasingly ridiculous dialogues, and his incorrect English pronunciation have earned him public derision.

A more electrifying performance, you will not see.

However, there was a time when Vijayakant was a much sought-after actor who had a considerable fan following.

Truly, the Captain’s fate has gone spinning faster than any “pambaram” he has let loose. But whatever be it, here's wishing Tamil cinema's Captain Cool a very happy birthday! 

After years of  unregulation, the Cabinet cleared a draft Bill that bans commercial surrogacy in India. The Surrogacy (Regulation) bill  bars married couples with biological or adopted children, single people, live-in partners, homosexuals and foreigners including NRIs and PIOs from having babies through surrogacy. 

Read: One step forward, two steps back: How the surrogacy bill fails many aspiring parents

Journalist and author, Gita Aravamudan's "Baby Makers: A Story of Indian Surrogacy", published in 2014, examines how surrogacy got transformed into a multi-billion dollar industry. Published below is an extract from her book.  

*****

By Gita Aravamudan

Michael Bergen and Michael Aki are graphic designers from Massachusetts. After they got married in 2004, they tried unsuccessfully for three years to adopt a child in the US. Finally, they decided to hire a surrogate. They chose India because India had better infrastructure, more high-tech facilities and a healthier lifestyle in terms of fewer number of women indulging in smoking, drinking or doing drugs.

The journey of the two Mikes is documented in detail in their blog titled ‘Spawn of Mike+Mike’.

Bergen and Aki zeroed in on Rotunda, a Mumbai clinic that has been marketing its services to the overseas gay community. They had already chosen an anonymous Indian egg donor from the profiles provided by the clinic through email. Finally, they spent four days in India in July 2008. Since they both wanted to be genetic fathers, each gave a sperm sample.

In order to make sure that the agreement was watertight, they spent another $3000 as legal fees to have a US lawyer rewrite it. The process went smoothly. They used eggs from the same donor because they wanted the children to be genetically related to each other. The eggs were fertilized with the sperm of the two men and the embryos were implanted in two separate surrogates. Both women became pregnant almost simultaneously and on their first try. Rose, daughter of Mike Aki, was born on 24 March and Eva, daughter of Mike Bergen, was born on 12 April. With travel costs, the couple spent about $60,000 in all, including $10,000 as compensation for each surrogate. That’s roughly half of what the total cost would have been in the US.

One of the reasons they decided to go for two surrogates at the same time was because they had heard rumours that the Indian government might change its surrogacy law, making it difficult, or even impossible, for gay couples to hire an Indian surrogate.

Meanwhile, around the same time, the Law Commission of India submitted the 228th report in which it addressed the need for a legislation to regulate ART clinics. It also tried to address the needs and obligations of both the parties signing a surrogacy contract. According to the guidelines given in the report, the surrogacy contract should contain, among other things, the consent of the woman to bear the child and hand it over, and the intending parents to bear all the medical and other expenses. But, ironically, it said the arrangement shouldn’t be for commercial purposes.

The Law Commission suggested that the surrogacy arrangement should also provide for financial support for the surrogate child in the event of the death of the commissioning couple, or individual, before the delivery of the child, or in the event of a divorce between the intending parents. The contract should also take care of life insurance coverage for the surrogate.

According to the guidelines, one of the intending parents should be a donor as well, ‘because the bond of love and affection with a child primarily emanates from a biological relationship.’ Also, that the legislation should recognize the surrogate child to be the legitimate child of the commissioning parents, without there being any need for adoption or even declaration of guardianship. The birth certificate of the surrogate child should contain the name(s) of the commissioning parent(s) only.

Although most of these guidelines are being adhered to, the bottom line is that there is still no legislation several years later, and, even in 2014, surrogacy is stuck in limbo.

Surrogacy is not illegal in India. At the same time, there is no specific legal framework governing it. And that’s what makes it such an attractive destination for infertile couples who live in countries that have strict surrogacy laws.

By late 2012, the Indian Home Ministry circulated a memo which was welcomed by some and raised the hackles of others. According to this memo, which was circulated to all Indian missions abroad, gay couples, single men and women, unmarried couples and couples from countries where surrogacy was illegal, would be prohibited from hiring a commercial surrogate in India. Foreigners who wanted to hire a surrogate had to be a man and woman who had been married for at least two years.

At this point of time, there were about 1000 registered and unregistered fertility centres in India. Would these regulations, if they came into force, deliver a major blow to India’s $2.5 billion surrogacy industry? Each year, an estimated 25,000 foreign couples visited India for surrogacy services and more than 2000 babies were born. The cost of surrogacy in India was roughly a third of the price in the US, which was one of the few other medically advanced countries in the world offering commercial surrogacy. The ‘traditionally lax’ regulations surrounding the industry in India added to its attraction.

An Israel-based agency, which had been sending couples to India for surrogacy services since 2008, said the combination of excellent medical facilities and attractive costs brought couples from all over the world to India. Since India decriminalized homosexuality in 2011, the agency in Israel has sent over a 100 gay couples to India.

What was the impetus behind the new regulations? Homophobia? Right-wing posturing about the sanctity of marriage? Or just a practical attempt to avoid legal entanglements with other governments?

There were quite a few cases in which surrogate babies were caught in a legal battle and the government of India was probably anxious to avoid more such distressing situations.

The Baby Manji case was the most famous one, but there were many others. There was the case of a Norwegian woman who was stranded for over two years in India with twins born by an Indian surrogate. When the DNA tests showed that the children were not biologically related to her, the Norwegian embassy in India refused to issue her the travel papers for the twins. The case dragged on.

Sometimes, even when the babies were allowed to travel back to the parents’ country of origin, there were other complications. In 2010, a French gay man, who had twins through an Indian surrogate, was allowed to travel back to France. But surrogacy was illegal in France and, so, his twins were taken away from him and put in foster care. Two years later, he was still engaged in a court battle with the French government.

A German couple – Jan Balaz and Susan Anna Lohlad – had to fight a two-year legal battle before they were allowed to take their twin sons, Nikolas and Leonard, back home in 2008. The twins, born to an Indian surrogate in January 2008, became stateless citizens after Germany refused them visas because it doesn’t recognize children born through surrogacy.

The parents then appealed to the Gujarat High court, saying that since the children were born of an Indian surrogate, they were eligible for Indian citizenship. The Indian government refused to grant the twins Indian citizenship on the ground that they were born through a surrogate who had signed a contract relinquishing all rights over them. The case finally went to the Supreme Court.

Finally, Balaz and his wife had to adopt the children through the inter-country adoption process supervised by the Central Adoption Resources Agency (CARA). The Indian government heaved a huge sigh of relief, quickly arranged their exit permits and put them on their flight home to Germany.

Excerpted with the permission of Harper Collins India from “Baby Makers: A Story of Indian Surrogacy” by Gita Aravamudan

From demonising a significant percentage of the population to indulging in risky sex, there is no dearth of myths surrounding sexual activity. While these urban legends generate a good round of laughter among friends, for the sufferer of the myths, there can be significant distress to their individual and couple intimacy life.

1. An intact hymen is a sign of virginity

Contrary to popular belief, the hymen isn’t necessarily a barrier at the opening of the vagina. It is a membrane that only partially covers or surrounds the vaginal opening. Hymens differ and not everyone’s hymen can break during the first intercourse because it can be thin and stretchy or thick and rigid and in some cases, completely absent. The hymen can also tear for other reasons including engaging in sports, using a tampon or during masturbation when something is inserted in the vaginal opening.

2. All women can have multiple orgasms

While multiple orgasms are assumed to be the trump card of women when it comes to sexual intercourse, not all women can have (or wish to have) multiple orgasms. Some women may find their genitalia too sensitive to touch after achieving an orgasm and may not want to go for more.

3. Women who have a lot of sex have loose vaginas

The vagina, like many other parts of the body like the mouth and the anus, has the ability to expand and contract to optimize its function. When a woman is sexually aroused, the vaginal muscles expand to enable intercourse and contract again after sexual activity ends. While there may be slight loosening of the vaginal opening after child birth, engaging in a lot of sex has no effect on the tightness of the vagina. Women are encouraged to practise ‘Kegel’s exercise’ especially after childbirth if they wish to improve the tone of the vaginal muscles.

4. Douching after sex prevents pregnancy

Douching is the act of washing the vaginal cavity with water or other substances. Douching after sex will NOT prevent pregnancy. The sperms in the semen are extremely fast swimmers and can reach the uterus by the time a woman even begins to douche. Also, the pressure of the douching solution squirted into the vagina can actually push the sperm into the uterus. Additionally, douching can increase the chances of getting an STD.

5.You can't get STDs from oral sex

While the risk of STDs is comparatively lesser in oral sex than in genital sex, bacterial infections such as chlamydia, syphilis, or gonorrhoea in the mouth and/or throat – and in some rarer occasions – can lead to genital warts in the mouth.

6. If you start foreplay, you must end with intercourse

There is no rule that says a kiss must end with intercourse. Consent plays a key factor in anything two people are engaging in sexually. While foreplay can end with intercourse, it has to be the want of both parties involved.

7. The anus is an erogenous zone only for homosexual men

Anal sex is commonly associated with homosexual men as it plays a significant role in the possible sexual activities available to them. However, the anus is an erogenous zone for not just homosexual men, but men and women of all sexual orientations. It is definitely important though to emphasize that it is not an essential aspect and a couple may engage in activities surrounding the anus upon mutual consent and communication. Also, note there is no natural lubrication in this area unlike the vagina.

8. Condoms lessen sexual pleasure

This is the most common excuse for not using condoms as a method of birth control. Condoms, today, come in all kinds of shapes and sizes. They are specifically designed not only to prevent STDs but are carefully made so that they do not interfere with the sexual experience. It would definitely help for couples to experiment with different brands, sizes and types of condoms to find one that is most enjoyable. Sexual pleasure is not just at the local (penis) level but largely at the higher centres (brain).

9. Faking an orgasm is okay

Women sometimes fake orgasms to either draw closure to the sexual activity or to avoid letting their partner down. Unfortunately, this stunts the communication and doesn’t allow the partner to understand the need of the hour and improve it by trying other things.

10. The female orgasm is unnecessary

In certain cases, women are known to squirt on climaxing. While this is a controversial area of sexual medicine research, the male orgasm is deemed more important because of its obvious reproductive function. However, the female orgasm is just as necessary and sex does not end until both partners have been satisfied. Alternatively, the female orgasm can result in better lubrication making intercourse easier and more pleasurable.

11. You can tell the size of a man's penis by his shoe or nose size

Researchers do suspect that there may be some genetic connection between the development of the penis and the development of the limbs. However, there has been no conclusive scientific evidence to prove that there is any correlation between the size of the feet, nose or general size of the man and the size of his penis.

12. Sex should be natural, asking for it or planning it spoils it

The movies always portray sex as an activity that is spontaneous and passionate. While this can happen in real life, the first time can be confusing and the fiftieth time can be monotonous. Communicating needs or planning a night for sexual activity can not only address these issues but enhance the experience. Couples are discouraged to view sexual intimacy as something very special and blend it with their routine lifestyle.

As explained earlier, there are no specific gender roles for two people engaging in sexual activity. This applies to same sex couples as well. Same sex couples do not necessarily take on the role of either gender to enjoy sexual activity.

In today’s world, everything is online. Information is at our fingertips. Sex need not be as elusive as the Loch Ness or as blurry as the Yeti. Get the right facts and end the virus that myths and misconceptions are. For further reading please refer to our previous articles in this series.

This is a part of the Sexual Health series bought to you by The News Minute in association with Happy Relationships. Happy Relationships is an enterprise that works in the field of sexual health and relationship wellness.

Also read:

Friends, media and pornography: All the wrong sources of sexual literacy

The black and white of blue films: How porn addiction damages relationships

Your most powerful sexual organ is not down there, but between your ears

Of orgasms, hairy palms and blindness: Masturbation myths and why it is very good for you

Fraser McQueen, University of Stirling

Images of armed police confronting a woman in Nice, apparently forcing her to remove some of her clothing, have added fuel to the already combustible debate over the prohibition against women wearing burkinis on many beaches around France.

Since mayor of Cannes David Lisnard banned the full-body burkini from his town’s beaches, as many as 15 French resorts have followed suit.

Arguments defending the bans fall into three main categories. First, it is about defending the French state’s secularism (laïcité). Second, that the costume represents a misogynistic doctrine that sees female bodies as shameful. And finally, that the burkini is cited as a threat to public order.

None of these arguments satisfactorily refute the claims of civil rights activists that the bans are fundamentally Islamophobic.

The niceties of laïcité

The Cannes decree explicitly invokes secular values. It prohibits anyone “not dressed in a fashion respectful of laïcité” from accessing public beaches. However, the French state has only banned “ostentatious” religious symbols in schools and for government employees as part of laïcité (the strict separation between the state and religious society). And in public spaces, laïcité claims to respect religious plurality. Indeed, the Laïcité Commission has tweeted that the ban, therefore, “cannot be based upon the principle of laïcité”.

While veils covering the entire face such as the burqa or niqab are illegal, this is not to protect laïcité; it is a security matter. The legal justification is that these clothes make it impossible to identify the person underneath – which is not the case for the burkini.

By falling back on laïcité to police Muslim women in this way, the Cannes authorities are fuelling the argument that “fundamentalist secularism” has become a means of excluding Muslims from French society.

Colonial attitudes

Others, such as Laurence Rossignol, the minister for women’s rights, hold that the burkini represents a “profoundly archaic view of a woman’s place in society”, disregarding Muslim women who claim to wear their burkini voluntarily.

A burkini on sale.Landahlauts, CC BY-NC-SA

This typifies an enduring colonial attitude among many non-Muslim French politicians, who feel entitled to dictate to Muslim women what is in their best interests. Rossignol has in the past compared women who wear headscarves through choice to American “negroes” who supported slavery.

Far from supporting women’s rights, banning the burkini will only leave the women who wear it feeling persecuted. Even those with no choice in the matter are not helped by the ban. This legal measure does nothing to challenge patriarchal authority over female bodies in the home. Instead, it further restricts the lives of veiled women by replacing it with state authority in public.

Open Islamophobia

Supporters of the ban have also claimed that, with racial tensions high after recent terrorist attacks, it is provocative to wear this form of Muslim clothing. Such an argument was made by Pierre-Ange Vivoni, mayor of Sisco in Corsica, when he banned the burkini in his commune. Early reports suggested a violent clash between local residents and non-locals of Moroccan origin was triggered when strangers photographed a burkini-wearing woman in the latter group, which angered her male companions. Vivoni claimed that banning the costume protected the security of local people, including those of North African descent.

Those reports have transpired to be false: none of the women in question were even wearing a burkini at the time of the incident. Nonetheless, the ban has stood in Sisco and elsewhere.

To be “provoked” by the burkini is to be provoked by the visibility of Muslims. Banning it on this basis punishes Muslim women for other people’s prejudice. It also disregards the burkini’s potential to promote social cohesion by giving veiled women access to the same spaces as their non-Muslim compatriots.

Appeals to public order have, occasionally, been openly Islamophobic. Thierry Migoule, head of municipal services in Cannes, claimed that the burkini “refers to an allegiance to terrorist movements”, conveniently ignoring the Muslim victims of recent attacks. Barely a month after Muslims paying their respects to friends and family killed in Nice were racially abused, such comments are both distasteful and irresponsible.

Increased divisions

Feiza Ben Mohammed, spokesperson for the Federation of Southern Muslims, fears that stigmatising Muslims in this way will play into the hands of IS recruiters. That fear seems well-founded: researchers cite a sense of exclusion as a factor behind the radicalisation of a minority of French Muslims. Measures like this can only exacerbate that problem. Indeed, provoking repressive measures against European Muslims to cultivate such a sentiment is part of the IS strategy.

Meanwhile, the day after the incident in Sisco, riot police were needed in nearby Bastia to prevent a 200-strong crowd chanting “this is our home” from entering a neighbourhood with many residents of North African descent. Given the recent warning from France’s head of internal security of the risk of a confrontation between “the extreme right and the Muslim world”, such scenes are equally concerning.

Now more than ever, France needs unity. Yet more legislation against veiled women can only further divide an already divided nation.

Fraser McQueen, PhD Candidate, University of Stirling

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.

By Vikas Datta

Title: The Devils' Alliance - Hitler's Pact with Stalin, 1939-1941; Author: Roger Moorhouse; Publisher: Vintage/Random House India; Pages: 400; Price: Rs 599

Two major powers changed sides - into the Allied camp - during World War II: Italy, midway through the conflict after becoming a battleground, and Soviet Russia, which earlier found itself attacked by the country it had signed an unprecedented treaty for advantage and territorial gain. But while the first defection's impact remained to the country concerned, the second had much wider ramifications but has never been fully explored. 

And with good reason, as it is an episode that the Soviet Union and even its successor state, Russia - for obvious reasons - and even the Western Allies - for their own opaque reasons - have never much dwelt on much or sought to ignore altogether. And the defeated opponent's attempts to highlight it were suppressed.

Author of the first full-length work on this "forgotten" aspect of the war - the nearly two-year-long association between Hitler's Germany and Stalin's Russia that also helped start the war in September 1939, historian Moorhouse notes that, during research, telling his non-historian friends and others about what he was working on, only led to “blank looks and furrowed brows".

For the pact between the two dictatorships, is - apart from those affected, especially Poland and the three Baltic nations, though its remit extended from Finland down to Turkey - "not part of our collective narrative of the Second World War", says Moorhouse, adding it is his “firm conviction" that it should be. 

"Our ignorance of the subject is surprising" and even "scandalous" when "every other curiosity, campaign and catastrophe" of the conflict has been explored, given "the pact's obvious significance and magnitude".

"Under its auspices, Hitler and Stalin - the two most infamous dictators of twentieth-century Europe - found common cause. Their two regimes, whose later confrontation would be the defining clash of the Second World War in Europe, stood side by side for twenty-two months, almost a third of the conflict's entire time span."

It also "led directly to the outbreak of war, isolating Poland between its two malevolent neighbours and scuppering the rather desultory efforts of the Western Powers to thwart Hitler".

As history books tell us that Germany attacked Poland on September 3, 1939 and made rapid progress but what is not often mentioned that the Soviet Union followed suit on September 17. Poland was soon overrun and partitioned between the two, and it is with a joint parade, presided over by Wehrmacht's Gen Heinz Guderian and Red Army's Brig Gen Semyon Krivoshein in then Brest-Litovsk (today's Brest in Belarus) as the Germans handed it over to the Soviets that Moorhouse begins his account.

As footage of this spectacle was shown across the world, "contemporary observers were bewildered" (one memorably noting that all our 'isms' had become 'wasms'), communists "baulked at the ideological gymnastics that they were suddenly obliged to perform, while many Nazis harboured deep-seated misgivings about the country's new bedfellow and collaborator".

How this came about, what followed and what the consequences were is what Moorhouse engagingly narrates - with all the twists and turns, including an Allied plan to bomb Russian oil wells. 

The story, which formally begins on August 23, 1939 from when Nazi German Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop and his team landed in Moscow to sign the pact, doesn't, as expected, end on June 22, 1941 when German troops crossed over into Soviet territory, throwing the Soviet leadership into near-paralysis, but over a month later, when Soviet Russia resumed diplomatic ties with Poland.

But why should what happened long and far away interest any of us (apart from those in east Europe, where bitter memories still linger), when the Soviet Union has joined Nazi Germany in the pages of history? 

For one, its effect was wide both in time and space (explaining why in Central and East Europe, a powerful Russia is distrusted) but more importantly, shows how regimes with diametrically-opposed ideologies, who may have spent years in mutual villification, can cooperate for mutual benefit. Realpolitik must trump ideology for success, and ignoring this can be lethal - as many apart from Hitler learnt, or are learning.

The horrific story of nine-year-old Noufal who was brutalized by his mother, Saleena, in Idukki district, Kerala, has sent shockwaves in the area. The boy was beaten, viciously attacked, locked up and starved by his mother.

Doctors who examined the child say that the torture must have gone on for at least a few weeks, if not months. Noufal’s father had been picked up by excise officials earlier for possession of ganja. Saleena also has a three month old baby.

Extreme cases such as these are exceptions. The abuse in Noufal’s case was sustained, over a period of time, and not inflicted in the heat of the moment because of a sudden ‘provocation’.

Sudden ‘provocation’ is why most parents say they indulge in corporal punishment – a form of punishment that is still fairly common in India when it comes to parents as the inflictors.

KS Selvakumar, a 56-year-old who works in a senior management position in a government society, admits that he has hit his two sons during their childhood as a “last resort”. He says, “It usually happened out of frustration. Once I slapped my college-going son, for not being sensitive to a situation. After every instance of beating them, I've felt guilt and remorse.”

In earlier times, parents had greater license when it came to corporal punishment. Selvakumar says, “During my father's childhood, my grandfather used to lift him by his hair - beating used to be the norm.  However, I was never beaten by my parents. I was a single child. My aunt, mother of three boys, routinely resorted to beating my cousins to make them behave.”

Though Selvakumar and his wife do not remember more than a few occasions when they have hit their sons, he says that his children, who are now adults, recall being beaten often.

Vandana*, a 34 year old who works in the IT industry, has a son who has been clinically diagnosed with hyperactivity. She says, “When he was around three years old, he’d just leave my hands and start running on the road in spite of my warnings. He would only stop after being spanked. I felt bad but I was gladder that he was safe.”

It took her quite an effort to stop hitting her child and the impetus for this came from a particular incident that she regrets to this date.

Vandana says, “Once, I took him out for my team outing. He misbehaved, threw tantrums, grabbed people's food - which was totally unexpected and I hit him after we came back home. I was frustrated and felt ashamed before my team mates. Even kids who were younger to him behaved very well. So the punishment was more out of my frustration than for disciplining him .I felt very bad after this incident and took an oath not to hit him anymore.”

Dr Tara Srinivasan, a Chennai-based psychologist, says that repeated corporal punishment only makes children indifferent. “They learn to tolerate the pain and either become withdrawn or imitate the behaviour and turn aggressive,” she explains.

Dr Tara feels that corporal punishment is more accepted and common in the lower classes, where there is already so much violence as part of one’s everyday surroundings.

However, not all children who come to the hospital with bad injuries and even fractures inflicted by their parents are from such homes.

Speaking of the battered baby syndrome, where medical findings reveal injuries – including head trauma – caused by violent shaking of the child, Dr Tara points out that such cases happen when there are unresolved anger issues on the side of the parent.

Postpartum depression, often undiagnosed, can also make a new mother violent towards the child. Saleena, Noufal’s mother, has a three month old baby and a husband who was taken away for illegal activity – was it the frustration that made her turn against her elder son? Not that it justifies her behaviour but could it be a contributing cause? One can only speculate.

 When asked about their views on corporal punishment on a Facebook group for mothers, most admitted that they have hit their young child – too young to understand that what it was doing was wrong – because they felt intensely frustrated. While some said that they felt guilty for indulging in corporal punishments, others say that a “whack once in a while” was acceptable. A few, however, were steadfast in their view that no form of corporal punishment was acceptable to them.

The child is usually the person with the least power in a family. Physically and emotionally, s/he is vulnerable. Noufal was willing to defend his mother to the police, claiming that a monkey had attacked him, because she had promised him a biryani if he’d do so. That is how naïve and dependent a child is on his/her parents.

 While parents generally do have their child’s best interests in mind, they should pause before taking the violent route to drill a point home. Dr Tara says, “Sitting down and talking to your child is the best way to instil discipline. If that does not work, withhold your love or affection for a while. Take away a few treats. Beating doesn’t solve the problem…it only confuses the child.”

Vandana sums it up: “We grew up hearing proverbs like ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’. I think it’s time we threw these out of the window.”

*Name changed to protect privacy

As millions across the country celebrated Janmashtami, the birth anniversary of Lord Krishna, on Thursday, Chennai-based artist Keshav Venkataraghavan's paintings from his "Krishna For Today" series touched a chord with many on social media. 

Keshav, who has been posting pictures from his series on his social media accounts for quite some time now, has been illustrating several aspects of Krishna's life through his paintings.

Bala Leela. #watercolour#krishnafortoday#friendpic.twitter.com/PRMDGc2vyd

— Keshav (@keshav61) August 26, 2016

Krishna looks at Yashoda, and beholds the universe. #watercolour#krishnafortodaypic.twitter.com/FXshTjICvs

— Keshav (@keshav61) August 25, 2016

'Adhbhuta Balakam...'#watercolour#krishnafortodaypic.twitter.com/qfap5hO0Q6

— Keshav (@keshav61) August 24, 2016

GarudavAhana. #watercolour#krishnafortodaypic.twitter.com/eNz3WPfazU

— Keshav (@keshav61) August 23, 2016

Ragamala. #watercolor#krishnafortodaypic.twitter.com/Vg5coFOOuJ

— Keshav (@keshav61) August 22, 2016

Connecting with Krishna. #watercolor#krishnafortodaypic.twitter.com/UCClfAAOIt

— Keshav (@keshav61) August 21, 2016

Happy feet. #watercolor#krishnafortodaypic.twitter.com/1eSti5iQ5e

— Keshav (@keshav61) August 20, 2016

Arjuna experiences Krishna as Kripalu. #krishnafortoday#watercolourpic.twitter.com/2fGDXSulu0

— Keshav (@keshav61) August 17, 2016

Yashoda. #watercolor#krishnafortodaypic.twitter.com/KTKXGWjEvG

— Keshav (@keshav61) August 13, 2016

Vatsalya. #watercolor#krishnafortodaypic.twitter.com/X2R1iEoa3c

— Keshav (@keshav61) August 15, 2016

The News Minute's Chitra Subramaniam, who spoke to the artist earlier this year, writes, "Keshav’s Krishna is beyond religion and dogma, beyond nations and nationalities. It is free of human frailties and prejudices even as they are understood and dealt with. He has Chinese Krishna and a Greek one and according to him if Krishna were walking on the streets today, he would most probably be wearing jeans and a T."

His paintings have been garnering rave reviews and appreciation on the internet. 

I would hardly call myself religious, but something about @keshav61’s Krishna paintings that always puts my mind in a spiritual zone.

— Nandita Iyer (@saffrontrail) August 25, 2016

@keshav61 What lovely expressions!! Stunningly amazing 

— Dr. Sahiba (@espiritz_) August 25, 2016

@keshav61 This is so soothing :)

— Vaishali (@NestaDreams) August 25, 2016

@keshav61 enchanting. Just as Krishna himself:)

— mayura (@redearthz) August 25, 2016

@keshav61 Wonderful. But then all your Krishna illustrations are.

— seema chishti (@seemay) August 25, 2016

The artists's displayed works include the Experiments with Krishna series, New Forever Series, Single line series (eka-rekha), Dialogues with Arjuna series, the Kaliamardhana series, the Govardhana series, Krishnapremi series and the Vatsalyam series.

Read the full piece here: A work of art is never complete for an artist: Keshav Venkataraghavan

Slamming the controversy surrounding the leak of lovemaking scenes from her movie "Parched", actor Radhika Apte has said that such incidents do not affect her anymore. 

Opening up on NDTV's The Buck Stops Here, Apte spoke to Barkha Dutt about the video that went viral and her opinions about the misogynistic attitude of the society. 

The leak from "Parched" was the second time something like this was happening to her, she said. The first was when a similar scene was leaked from "Clean Shaven", a film for which she won the best actress award at the Tribeca Film Festival. 

What took her aback even more was the way the behaviour of the media. Apte was hounded for four days by journalists who asked her "pointless" questions. 

"I was really shocked and I couldn't believe that people were making it bigger and bigger and they had no sensitivity of any sorts," she told Dutt. 

However, this time, a producer informed her about the scenes from "Parched" having been leaked. 

"And he (the producer) sent me the clip with smiley faces, laughing faces. So I pitied him and this time to my surprise I was just not affected at all," she said. 

Apte added that she felt no reason to be angry because she is very comfortable with her body and "the more it happens to me I realise that it is making me more and more comfortable in my skin."

She also said that nude scenes were very much a part of the creative process and she was comfortable doing them when the script genuinely required it. 

Her co-star from the film, actor Adil Hussain, who was also present on the show pointed out the irony of the scenes going viral stating that the film exactly highlighted such mindset. 

Pointing out the sexism, Hussain had earlier told The Indian Express, "The most interesting aspect is that the leaked videos is titled as Radhika Apte sex scene and not as Adil Hussain sex scene. That’s because a man doing it is just another matter, whereas when a woman does it, it does matter. It is only then when it becomes a sex scene. It also shows the patriarchal society that we live in. In the West, such scenes are normally shown in their films."

Watch the full interview here.

Two intimate scenes from "Parched"- one featuring Adil and Radhika and the other featuring Radhika and Tannishtha Chatterjee- were leaked and went viral online. 

The internationally acclaimed movie has been produced by Ajay Devgn and Aseem Bajaj, and directed by Leena Yadav. The movie revolves around the lives of four ordinary women Rani, Lajjo, Bijli and Janaki in rural Gujarat and had its world premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival.

How does one risk making films in a language that is spoken by a few lakh people, and in a district which barely has any theatres? Both factors are crucial to the survival of a film. “It’s an adventure,” says filmmaker Gopi Peenya, with a laugh.

Despite these odds, Gopi embarked on a venture to make “Talang Neer” (meaning Fresh Water) in Kodava. “I’ve been trekking in the district for the past 25 years, so I’m familiar with every hill and mountain in the district. The place and the people appeal to me a lot,” says Gopi.

But the degradation of forests and explosion of homestays in Kodagu in the past two decades prompted him to make the film along with his co-director Belliyappa Cherumandanda.

“Initially I wasn’t even thinking of making it in Kodava. But when Belliyappa and I began writing the script in Kannada, we realised that the film would lose its nativity,” Gopi says.

Making a film in Kodava is something no director or producer would venture into because finding a market is a challenge. But they went ahead nonetheless. A US-based friend invested in it and they drew up a budget. “We believed that people will definitely watch a film if its good.” But it was more than this conviction that drove the pair to make “Talang Neer”.

Many ethnic Kodavas – mainly a land-owning community – have a tradition of being in the armed forces, first during the British era and now in the Indian military. Although the community’s history is contested and much research is required, the community is considered as a martial community. “When men return home after putting in 18-20 years in service, they have to start from zero,” says Gopi. This is in fact, a line spoken by the protagonist of the film through whose eyes Gopi tells the story of the community. Watch the trailer of the film:

“Many people join up with the armed forces at a young age, sometimes as early as 18, and don’t really have a connect with the community. When they experience the corruption and the cultural disconnect on their return, they often feel ‘Is this what I gave so many years of my life for?’,” Gopi says.

Coupled with this are the insecurities that arise out of migration – both inward and outward – in the district. Many members of the community have stopped cultivating the land, rendering it fallow. “There is a sense that the community is losing its culture (which is tied to the land).”

For this reason, he and Belliyappa want take the film to the people across the district. They plan to organize a special screening for influential members of the community in the state capital through the Bengaluru Kodava Samaja, a community organization. “If they like it, the word will spread. We will then organize screenings in schools and colleges in every panchayat. Forget the awards, we want to take the film to the people.”

Belliyappa and Gopi began shooting in September 2015, and by December the film was completed. “Talang Neer” won the Karnataka State Best Film Award in the regional language category for 2015.

Besides “Talang Neer”, Chiriyapanda Suresh Nanjappa’s 2011 film “Na Puttna Mann” (The Land I was Born In) is probably the only other film to have been so widely appreciated since the first Kodava film “Naada Mann Naada Kool” (My Land, My Rice) in 1972. But “Na Puttna Mann” has achieved something that is rare for Kodava cinema: commercial success.

Suresh told The News Minute that making Kodava films is not viable. “No director or producer would venture into making a Kodava film, except maybe for an award. But there’s no guarantee that you will get an award. And making films and selling them on CDs is not viable,” he says dryly.

He says that financial returns on investment are secondary. “In order to make financial returns, you need to have the space to screen it first.” When Suresh made the film, a couple of more theatres were still functioning. Once, the district had about 25 cinema halls.

This situation affects not just Kodagu, but the whole state, says Sa.Ra. Govindu, President of the Karnataka Film Chamber of Commerce. Before the advent of television in the 1990s, Karnataka had 1,200 theatres. Today, the number has halved: 650.

Kodava is one of 50 languages spoken in Karnataka, mainly in Kodagu district in the Malnad region of southern Karnataka. The language is primarily spoken by the ethnic Kodava community, Kodava takk and its dialects are also spoken by several smaller communities in the district. At present, Kodagu has just two theatres, one in the district headquarters of Madikeri and the other in Kushalnagar town. “Na Puttna Mann” ran for about 35 days in Madikeri’s sole theatre, enabling the film to make money.  

Although Bengaluru has a sizeable Kodava-speaking community, they cannot really ensure commercial success. Neither can speakers of other languages be counted on to watch a Kodava film. For different reasons, both Suresh and Gopi think that the situation with Kodava films cannot be compared with Marathi film “Sairat”, which has been appreciated across the country.

“Sairat had the whole of Maharashtra (11.24 crore population), where it was screened. Karnataka has just about 6 crore people. Of that, the Kodava community numbers 1.5 lakh people, and has a total of about 2.5 lakh speakers. The situations aren’t comparable,” says Suresh, who is himself a Kodava. (These numbers roughly correspond with Census 2001 data)

Gopi says that there was a country-wide awareness about “Sairat”, whereas Kodava was hardly known. He also said that perhaps if at least the Kannada-speaking population watched Kodava films, it would make a difference.

But he has another interesting observation with regard to Kodava audiences. He drew a comparison with another regional language Tulu, whose speakers, spread in Udupi and Dakshina Kannada districts, are an estimated 4 million.

“There is a peculiarity about Kodavas. There is no culture of watching plays and films unlike among Tulu-speakers,” Gopi says. Coastal Karnataka, where Tulu is primarily spoken, has a long tradition of story-telling, both through Yakshagana (folk-theatre) and bhootaradhane (spirit-worship). But even in modern times, Tulu comedies are wildly popular. “For Kodava films, we have to wait for word of mouth,” Gopi says. Hence, the plan to approach community leaders.

Gopi is currently away from Bengaluru. Next week, he and Belliyappa plan to initiate these meetings and hope to organize the screening in September. When they screen it in the villages of Kodagu, they will probably charge a fee.

“If we make money, then we’ll pay our team. Right now, most of them have agreed to work because they’re friends. They said they’ll take remuneration if the film makes money.” 

Raghavendra Prasad’s directorial debut “54321” is a revenge thriller that begins on a high note, hits a few bumps and then totters its way to a somewhat tame end.

Prasad credits a host of films for having inspired him, but James Wan’s “Saw” is not among them. “54321”, though, has a certain striking resemblance to the “Saw” series where a psychopath captures people and gives them a repulsive choice that they must make if they are to save their lives.

 In “54321”, Vinoth (Aarvin GR) has to do the same if he’s to save his wife Anjali’s (Pavithra Gowda) life. The man playing mind-games here is Vikram (Shabeer), a blast from Vinoth’s past. Vikram’s twisted motives are revealed through a flashback sequence that is let down by some amateur scripting and weak performances. All the well-meaning adults in Vikram’s life appear to be thick-headed and insensitive to the young boy’s feelings leading him to commit acts of desperate violence.

The film also reminds one of Kamal’s “Aalavandhan”, which was about two sparring siblings, one who succeeds in life and another who is condemned to breathe and come alive only in darkness.

Shabeer as Vikram is convincing in some portions but is unable to bring the kind of menace that a script like this demands. After a while, his count-downs to commit further acts of brutality appear repetitive and aren’t as chilling as the first time around.

The film would have benefitted from stronger performances from the cast. With the exception of Jayakumar who plays a thief caught in the muddle, the other performances come across as one-note for the most part.

The romance between Vinoth and Anjali is sketchy and poorly written. The chemistry between them simply does not work and this lets the film down because the tension in the story depends on how far Vinoth will go to save Anjali. The oddly calm child who sits through all the gore in the room does not help matters.

Joshua Sridhar’s background score works well, setting the mood and building tension adequately. Despite the “medical miracle” ending, “54321” is a fairly gripping watch that doesn’t reach the standard set by “Pizza” (Raghavendra Prasad pays a tribute to his guru’s film along the way) but is worth a watch nevertheless.  It does not quite take off like a rocket but doesn’t fall to a zero either. 

For a film starring newcomers and directed by a newbie director, “Lifu Super” had managed to create a fair amount of buzz for itself on social media, particularly with the release of an interesting trailer. But viewers who go in to watch the film with the expectations generated by the trailer are likely to be disappointed.

At the most basic level, “Lifu Super” is a heist film. Two down-on-their-luck young men (an aspiring actor and a journalist with a small-time Kannada tabloid) hatch a daring plan to steal crores of rupees of black money being transported from Bellary to Bengaluru to be distributed as cash for votes in upcoming elections.

The journalist (Likhit Surya) is tired of working for a pittance of Rs 4,000 per month. The aspiring actor (Niranth) finds out he can’t get his break unless he’s willing to put some money into the industry. And since it’s all black money, they reason, they would be in the clear if their plan went smoothly because their “victims” (powerful politicians and industrialists) would not dare complain to the police.

But director Vinod Kumar can’t decide just what his film is about. And so he packs in everything from romance to comedy to family drama, making the film quite confused and episodic. In particular, the sequences featuring the two women leads Meghana Appaiah and Anu Chinappa, are completely superfluous, since the women disappear from the screen soon after the interval.

And even before that, the sequences with them are too brief and perfunctory to add anything to the story. So too is a backstory about the aspiring actor wanting to become star because it was his film-crazy mother’s dream for him.

All these sequences take up too much of the film, drawing out the first half of the film for far too long. And because they’re all so briefly outlined, they each take the most predictable track, adding nothing new and interesting to the story.

The second half of the film shows a little more promise, as the film finally focuses on the heist itself. But here too the film lurches between comedy and action, diffusing the energy and pace of the second half. This could be because the actual heist itself is too simplistic to receive a proper build-up, even if it involves a heist within a heist.

What does work in the film is the music, with a fairly fun set of songs in the first half of the film, and some visually appealing sequences to go with them. While Niranth is somewhat awkward on-screen, Likhit Surya manages to hold attention to a fair extent.

24-year-old Anusha Raichur studied journalism but always knew that she was an artist at heart. When she quit her job last March and looked around, she found too many people being forced into being who they weren’t.

“I have many friends who belong to the LGBT community. So many of them are hurt by the baseless prejudices people nurse against them. I had to do something about it,” Anusha says.

So on August 10 this year, the Bengaluru-based freelance graphic designer began a project – ‘LGBT – An Illustrated Blueprint’ – which features spunky and colourful illustrations around the theme to get people talking about the issues that people in the community face. The artwork is available on her Instagram page.

Image: LGBT - An Illustrated Blueprint

The inspiration for the project was around Anusha all along. “My best friend is gay and I’ve seen her suffer because she was so afraid of coming out. Another male friend of mine identifies as a woman. People just don’t understand what that’s like,” she says.

Image: 'Lesbian' 

But within the LGBTQ spectrum, Anusha is most drawn to the plight of the transgender community. Her interactions with them when she studied journalism in Chennai were an eye-opening experience.

Image: 'Transgender'

According to Anusha, the most pertinent problem that transgender individuals face is finding employment. “Many of them are interested in grooming and make-up and are so talented. But no one is willing to employ them. So they take to the streets. They touch people the way they do because they know they will get money. This is what we’ve done to them,” observes Anusha.

Apart from employment, the transgender community also has trouble finding housing and healthcare services Anusha notes.

Image: 'Transgender'

But from the LGBT spectrum, Anusha opines that it is the bisexual community which is one of the least understood. “I have two friends who are attracted to both men and women. People actually ask them how it’s possible and assume that they are only interested in threesomes - with a man and a woman at the same time,” she says.

Images: 'Bisexual' 

In Anusha’s experience, women are more open to alternate sexualities, especially compared to how heterosexual men behave around gay men. She recounts how one of her straight male friends freaked out when a gay friend complimented him on his attire. “He forgot that they (homosexual people) are also human beings, and that they could be nice - genuinely paying you a compliment without hitting on you,” she points out.

Image: 'Gay'

With her project, Anusha hopes to remove the stigma and misconceptions associated with the LGBT community. And while she doesn’t have expertise or qualifications in the field, she relies completely on her personal drive to take her project forward. “We need to have a more fluid understanding of gender and sexuality rather than trying to fit people into structures,” she insists.

She intends to do a Part 2 and 3 as well. While the second leg will be a more in-depth, real-life photography-cum-illustration project, she is yet to fix a theme for the third. However, Anusha is sure that she doesn’t want to limit her work on the issues to this project alone. This is why Anusha is also looking for opportunities to create merchandise along the same theme.

“I want to make this bigger, so that it grabs more attention and more people talk about it. Hopefully, one day, there will be no such thing as ‘coming out’,” Anusha says.

On a humid Madras afternoon, a light drizzle dots the path to two pristine white columns, blades of grass giving way as the drops tease the lawn. Ripples of granite shyly peek through the portico. “They’re called coping stones,” says Abhimanyu Prakashrao, a fifth generation proprietor of the Luz House. In a sense, it’s what the charming bungalow has done for over 250 years – coped. And how.

The lane leading into the regal structure in Mylapore is littered with cars and suburban apartments, nothing like the 100 acres of lush forest that faced the house 250 years ago. Luz, or the original Lutz, is said to have got its name when Portuguese priests were floundering in a storm and prayed to Mother Mary. The light that guided them was the place where the Luz Church was built. Portuguese barracks were stationed at the bungalow that was the Luz House.

First floor corridor

What was once barracks had then passed on to Moddaverapu Dera Venkataswami Naidu, the patriarch, who was a translator, then known as a dubash, to Parry & Co. The story goes that he became enormously wealthy from his business dealings as primary translator for the British and acquired twenty acres in Luz where the Luz House already existed.

In 1868, Venkata Mahipathi Naidu, more famously known as Buchi Babu, grew a fondness for cricket as a young boy. “Cricket then was seen as the white man’s, not the black man’s game, as they called us,” recounts Abhimanyu. His nannies took him to Chepauk, and he began playing between the two mango trees in front of its large portico. Taking on the British in a match after he outraged over not being able to use the MCC pavilion, he was part of the first all-Indian team to win against an all-British team in the South. Thus goes the story of the Father of South Indian Cricket.  He went on to found the Madras United Cricket Club. 

West wing

The Luz House itself has always remained within the family. 

“In the old days, wealthy patrons would invite artists to come and perform. They had bigwigs, like the governor of Madras, coming together to witness these events. It feels like we’ve come back to that past and we revisit it with every event," Abhimanyu says. But for all the openness, the bungalow emanates a reserved air. It's an exclusive space that still bears the weight of undeniable privilege and elitism in Madras society. 

But Buchi Babu as a character himself was one for open spaces and challenging the status quo. Cricket in Madras till he came along was an Englishman’s game. His dream of having a ground open to everyone for play was the start of the process through which the Chepauk grounds were freed of the MCC monopoly and, eventually, were leased by the Tamil Nadu Cricket Association. Naidu also challenged the social norms embodied in Madras cricket, such as the rule that forbade non-Europeans from enjoying the comforts of the pavilion during lunch and instead being left sitting under the shade of trees to eat lunch.

First Floor Hall

The house thereby became home to an illustrious family of sportspersons - Buchi Babu was proficient in riding, tennis and cricket, while his younger brother, Chitti Babu, was a tennis champion and a cricketer. Buchi Babu's three sons went on to play test cricket, and subsequent generations have played at the Ranji Trophy matches. 

Abhimanyu’s grandfather presented a fascinating contrast in terms of defining space –  he lived in a “room” at the back of his house that was a corrugated tin roof held together by four thin columns with a tiny fan and no walls. It was a minimalist idea of a breezy open space that carried no ostentation unlike the bungalow, but was extremely private. 

Stairway

Chequered tiles across the patio are creased with age, alternating across the house with red oxide flooring. Every room has its own whiff and warmth. The cream walls carry the weight of history – faded photographs of the family’s boastful past hang. 

Commercialisation hovers over the spaces, and has crept in by way of the doors, which have transformed from creaky shutters to studio glass. Knobs have been ordered from Jaipur to keep to the antiquity. Any wood is largely new and winding staircases have corroded over time.

 "Once, the foundation was shaky when a column had shifted in the process. And Kalpana Amit, the architect responsible for restoration, got to work re-laying the roof. She saw a crack, and swiftly called the engineer, spending 3-4 days trying to figure out what to do with it," Abhimanyu recalls.  A long green mat with a plastic cover that screams orange hangs over the treated pillar, and the plaster hardly shows.

Portico

A picture of five men positioned around a ginormous trophy pops from the walls. "At the hilt of the British empire, the Raja of Kolanka was an amateur polo player who felt insulted that he wasn’t recognized enough to be one of the greats. So what did he do? He satiated himself by making one of the largest trophies in the world that could fill 10 bottles of champagne," he laughs. 

Cracks run across the floor brazenly flashing the wear of the house like proud scars instead of shameful bruises.  Abhimanyu believes it goes with the weathered look. He shares a whimsical moment of the past. "Once, my grandfather hosted a few people and they were wary of old houses because they were hubs for ghosts, or so they believed. My father and grandfather cut up two white sheets to scare the living daylights out of them," he says with a grin. 

South wing

The rear end of the house is a revelation of what it was, with moist patches from the rain crowding around the mud walls. Windows and bricks are neatly stacked around the backyard that was once used by Hindustan Motors. The blue paint on the mud walls is peeling away with touches of moss scrawling across the space. “This is the part of the house that’s most worn down and needs a lot of work, but it’s also the one that has the most character,” Abhimanyu observes. 

The house is precariously sunken by at least three inches, forcing the roots to burst and creep along the walls. “To preserve the walls without uprooting the trees remains the biggest challenge,” Abhimanyu says. A large house sinking is usually attributed to the urbanizing of a space and better draining system - streets and sidewalks are built at a level above the prevailing grade so the sewers could drain by gravity. But no heritage, judiciously treated with love and affection, can sink under its own weight. 

All pictures by The Luz House.

The format of the action-packed Hollywood superhero movies from DC and Marvel, seemed to have made its way across the world, as a Russian movie using the same formula has just released its trailer.

Called 'The Guardians' or 'Zashchitniki' in Russian, the plot revolves around a team of four Soviet Union-era superheroes who were reportedly created during the Cold War. 

Screenrant reported:

Directed by the Armenian filmmaker Sarik Andreasyan, Guardians is a Russian superhero movie that looks to be an off-brand capitalization on some of the same elements that make Hollywood releases such as The Avengers and the upcoming Justice League substantial box office draws.

IBTimes reported that the movie was basically 'Avengers Assemble meets Iron Sky meets Watchmen, and you can imagine what The Guardians is all about.'

The report adds:

Regardless of whether you believe the film to be a bit of a rip-off or not, it actually looks like it could give Marvel outings a run for its money, especially when looking at their vast differences in budget and the not so vast differences in production quality evidenced in the trailer. The Guardians reportedly spent 330m rubles, which equates to around $5m. 

Watch the trailer here.

Be it lack of education, economic disempowerment, gender bias or issues such as female foeticide, child marriage and sexual violence, girls and women in many countries continue to be a vulnerable section.

An Indian artist based in Singapore, however, has been using the "healing touch of art" to share positive stories of fathers and daughters through her illustrations to bring about a positive social change. 

Debasmita Dasgupta, the creator of the “My Father illustrations”, feels there is an urgent need to include fathers in the mainstream dialogue around the girl child’s rights. 

"Often patriarchy is blamed and punishments are meted out to men violating girls’ rights," Debasmita points out. "These men are systematically excluded from the dialogues and interventions addressing these problems. Unfortunately such exclusion only worsens the problem. Therefore, I see the urgent need to bring men to the forefront of dialogue.”

“By bringing the positive stories of men - being the agent of success in the lives of their daughters – to the forefront, I am breaking the chain of hatred and blame. My stand is positive since the world needs positive stories to bring down the negative bias,” Debasmita explains. 

It was in 2013 that Debasmita, who is also a children’s book illustrator, began her project after watching the TED talk of Shabana Basij, an Afghan human rights and education activist.  

Though Shabana grew up in Afghanistan during the Taliban regime, her father always worked towards providing her access to education. Debasmita says that Shabana spoke warmly of her father, telling the audience that he used to say, “People can take away everything from you except your knowledge.”

Shabana’s story became the first illustration in the “My Father illustrations” project.

Over the years, Debasmita kept looking for father-daughter stories from around the world. “Some I found, some found me,” she smiles.

All her illustrations are based on real life stories that she collects from different sources - the field, media reports and even fathers and daughters writing to her and sharing their stories.

“I have shared around 200 stories from 46 countries,” Debasmita says.

Debasmita, who grew up in Kolkata, shares a very close bond with her parents, especially her father who is a theatre actor and director. It was watching him at work that helped her find her “purpose” as an artist.

“My father is my ideal. He is a self-made man of strong principles,” Debasmita says.

Her evocative illustrations have touched a chord with many across the globe.

She has received hundreds of messages from the followers of “My Father illustrations” expressing “awe, inspiration, pleasure, happiness and myriad other emotions.” She adds that many subjects of her stories have expressed gratitude and love.

The positivity that emerges from the project is what keeps her going.

While all her illustrations are close to her heart, Debasmita describes one of her latest drawings - inspired by the life of an acid-attack survivor from India – to have created a deep impact on her.

Monica Singh was just 19 when the life-altering attack took place. Debasmita says, “However, neither she nor her father, Mahendra Singh, lost hope. They kept walking until the end of the tunnel and finally the darkness was over.”

Monica is now a fashion design student at the prestigious Parsons School of Fashion in New York. And she has set up The Mahendra Singh Foundation to train other survivors with skills to become self-sufficient. 

In 2015, Debasmita started Doodle with Dad (DwD), an initiative that facilitates community art camps in order to provide a space for dialogue between fathers and daughters and help strengthen their bond.

Debasmita says, “‘Art’ as a medium of communication for these camps helps to initiate discussions on sensitive topics including female foeticide, child marriage, and violence against girls.”

For more illustrations, check the My Father illustrations Facebook page here. 

Even as media across the globe hotly debates on how much women should cover up - or should not - our own history has a disturbing and dark story of how those in power had at one point in time, taken it upon themselves to decide on how women should dress.

Over three hundred years ago, the southern state of Kerala had a system of taxation, whereby women belonging to backward castes and Dalits had to pay a tax, if they wanted to cover their breasts. Standing bare chested was taken as a sign of respect towards those castes supposedly "superior" to them - for both men and women.

The tax however, was levied only on Avarna (lower caste) women who wanted to cover their chest. It goes without saying that some of these "superiors" would have also got their voyeuristic kicks out of this system as well.

Royal officials would travel door to door, collecting this heinous "Mulakkaram" - literally Breast Tax- from Avarna women who had passed puberty. Sickeningly, the amount would depend on the size of the breasts.

Legend has it that a young Ezhava woman from Cherthala in Alappuzha, humiliated and frustrated by this indignity, decided she had enough of being insulted. Nangeli was said to have been attractive and feisty.

(Do not reproduce pictures without permission)

When the pravarthiyar, or village collector came asking for her share, she lit a lamp and laid down a plantain leaf as per the custom, but instead of money, she cut off her breasts and placed them on the leaf, shocking the officials.

Nangeli bled to death, but her defiance has now come to be a symbol of the resistance against this practice. Her husband, who was away at the time, came home to find his wife being cremated, and is said to have jumped into the pyre himself - either heartbroken, or mortified at what the authorities may do to him.

The area where she sacrificed herself was dismissively called "Mulachiparambu" (the breast woman's plot). Her kith and kin are said to have been forced to leave the area.

History has no official record of her, though this story is well known across Kerala. Academia is largely conflicted about the incident, and today Nangeli has become just another local legend.

Chitrakaran T Murali, who painted a whole series based on her tale, went in search of her family in Cherthala. "They say she had no children. There are relatives in Cherthala who are the descendants of her siblings, but they know just as much as the next person about their heroic ancestor," he says.

"In those days she was just another poor woman who protested and died. There is no record of her at all. Sadly, even today, she is not given due credit for what she did," he adds.

Nangeli wasn't the first one to protest against this barbaric social norm.  Between 1813 and 1859, women belonging to the Panayeri (Palm-climber) Nadar community fought tooth and nail to be able to cover their breasts like Savarana women, in what came to be known as the Channar revolt.

(Nangeli's great great grand niece Leela, with her family).

In 1813, the Travancore court Dewan Colonel John Munro threw them a carrot and issued an order saying Nadar women who converted to Christianity could cover their chests with an "upper cloth". The royal court opposed this and the women were only allowed to wear a long blouse that the Muslims and Syrian Christians of the time wore.

The Nadar women were not satisfied demanding that they be treated on par with the Nair women. In the ensuing civil unrest, countless women were manhandled and molested.

Missionaries of the time got involved in the issue and many Nadars converted into Christianity. The Raja issued a proclamation again in 1859 reiterating that Nadar women could not dress like their Savarana counterparts. 

"This issue went on well into the 20th century," explains Dr K Gopalankutty, president of the South Indian History Congress. "Clothing is a marker of one's social identity, and the blouse took on a symbolic role."

Breast tax was just one of the abhorrent measures in Kerala used to fill up the royal coffers. Many strange and repressive taxes, such as "meniponnu" or cess on ornaments worn, and "meesha  kazhcha" or cess to grow a moustache were levied, especially on the backward and Dalit communities.

"Taxes and cess of extortionary nature ran into more than 120…of which 110 were levied exclusively on poor communities," notes Dr S N Sadasivan, in his book, "A Social History of India".

It must be noted however that despite what history tells us, the situation wasn't all that peachy for the so-called upper caste women either. Namboothiri women- antharjanam (women who lived indoors) were allowed to cover their chest, but could move only within the inner rooms of their own homes.

They were allowed speak only to their husband, immediate family and the "thozhi" assigned to them. They had to cover their face with an "olakkuda" or palm umbrella on the rare occasion when their husbands gave them permission to go outside the home. 

Nair women were allowed to cover their chest - unless they were in the presence of Brahmins, royalty or in a temple. "The proper salutations from a female to persons of rank was to uncover the bosom. On one occasion, a Nair woman appeared before the Zamorin of Calicut's lady (sic); with her breasts concealed, and they were cut off, as wearing of a bodice before one belonging to such a higher group was considered immodesty," explains R Raman Nair and L Sulochana Devi, in their work "Chattambi Swami: An Intellectual Biography".

The irony is that traditionally, being bare-chested was neither a mark of shame nor a forced show of respect, for men and women staying in the west coast of South India. They wore sparse lower body garments because of the weather conditions - such attire would aid evaporation of sweat, and prevent overheating in sultry humid climates. Hygiene and common sense dictated what they wore, not social norms.

(Supriya Unni Nair is an independent writer with over 15 years of experience in print media and television. She can be followed on Twitter @SupriyaUnniNair)

What's in a queue, most Indians ask as they invent innovative ways of queue-jumping, says a new book on the most striking characteristic that literally binds the diverse nation.

"People of every caste, creed, language, state, religion, province and street differ on virtually every other issue, but we all converge on this one ethos: the ethos of queue-jumping," says V Raghunathan in his book “The Good Indian's Guide To Queue Jumping”, published by HarperCollins.

According to him, Westerners and Indians are as different as chalk and cheese when it comes to queuing with Western queues mostly a "lifeless, boring and linear assortment of people standing somberly as if struck by life s most extreme tragedy".

But not so with Indians.

"Our average queues are full of verve and vitality, each brain in overdrive, actively evaluating all strategies to jump the queue," he writes.

"What is more, in our queues we stand really tight, unlike the Westerners, who stand apart as if the next person may be suffering from some unmentionable contagion. That is why our queues, when they exist at all, are a solid, albeit uneven, line of people with all senses on alert, rather than the relaxed and limp lines seen in the West," he goes on to add.

"In a nation of a billion people, there is no escaping queues. We find ourselves in one every day - whether to board the flight or if we are less fortunate to fetch water from a municipal tap. We no longer wait for years for a Fiat car or a rotary-dial phone but there are still queues that may last days, like those for school admissions. And then, there are the virtual ones at call centres in which there's no knowing when we will make contact with a human," the book says.

Raghunathan says that no wonder the disregard for queues has also found its way into the very folklore of the nation via Bollywood when "Amitabh Bachchan growled in his bass voice in 'Kaalia' (1981), 'Hum jahan khade ho jaate hain, line wahin se shuru hoti hai', saying in effect I will always jump to the head of the queue: stop me if you dare."

From playing the baby-faced collector who sent a shiver down our spines with his charged rendition of 'Achcham achcham illai' in "Thalapathy" to lounging on a couch and passing sarcastic comments as the charming Abhimanyu in "Thani Oruvan", Arvind Swamy has had an interesting journey in Kollywood. 

An introvert by nature, Arvind Swamy recently took up the challenge of hosting "Neengalum Vellalam Oru Kodi", a game show on Vijay TV. It is perhaps this drive to reinvent himself that has kept him alive in the minds of his fans despite the long break that he took from films.

The News Minute catches up with Arjun, Abhimanyu and a host of other faces that Arvind Swamy has donned and the battles that he has quietly fought to get where he is. 

Did the time away from the spotlight, between now and his first decade in cinema, affect him? Arvind says, “As we grow and experience more, it enriches your life in a sense. People go through various experiences that test you and define you as a person today. More of life has passed by me.”

He points out that he was in his 20s when he did “Thalapathi.” A young man who did not have much of life experience. But growing older and experiencing more have given him different approaches and choices that he can make as an actor.

Thalapathi (1991)

Time away, Arvind feels, has tempered him. It was director Mani Ratnam who persuaded the reluctant actor to make a come-back in his film “Kadal”. “I asked for two months to prepare myself for the character,” Arvind recalls. “I’m a little bit of a strange guy. If something scares me, I want to do it. That’s my drive.”

And now that he’s back, he’s more involved in the films that he does, getting into scripting and preproduction work. “Lots of interesting things are being done in Tamil cinema and there are a lot more projects I can relate to,” he observes.  “Be it “Thani Oruvan” or “Kadal”, I have put in a lot of work in the screenplay and scripts.”

Speaking on how the industry has changed across the years, Arvind says, “Newcomers are coming up with new ideas. The younger people want to see something new. Lots of material from different parts of the world are influencing the way film is today. Everything from aesthetics to stories has changed. It’s a new generation of moviegoers. Your standards are much higher… I like this time better than the 90s.”

As an actor who consciously looks for roles that are “new and challenging” and doesn’t want to do ones that he can “sleepwalk through”, the Hindi-English film, “Dear Dad”, where he plays a gay man coming out to his son, proved to be exciting.

Arvind says, “It was great of them to come up with a script like that. It was a challenge really, but you decide you’re an actor and the more different you are as a person from the role, the more interesting it is for you as an actor. I don’t want to be in a comfort zone.”

Tamil Nadu enjoys a certain infamy for its worship of movie stars. How does Arvind Swamy feel about all the praise that he gets? He admits, “I couldn’t handle it in my ‘20s. The adulation was daunting. One of the big reasons I decided to stop was because I wasn’t prepared at all. But you need to learn to ignore it. Today, I look at it as love and affection.”

What he loves the most, he says, is to be an observer. That was taken away from him when films like “Roja” and “Bombay” became successful all over the country and he was recognized everywhere.

Roja (1992)

Arvind doesn’t endorse any fan clubs. “I believe that you should not be obligated to see my film and like it. If you like the film, you should watch it, and if you don’t, you don’ watch it. If you didn’t like the film, you should be free to say it. I don’t want loyalty to come in the way of judgement,” he states candidly.

His views are not surprising, considering how fond he is of breaking the mould. “Let’s say if I get a film that comes up with similar things like last time around, I don’t go with it. I look for something that’s harder and tougher. The pressure was to disprove, it’s the other way around,” Arvind smiles.

“When someone says “How can you play a negative role?” I won’t play it with the standard cliches. The bad guy, the anti-hero is stereotypically smoking, drinking or associated with bad people, that’s what is to be expected. You need to be dramatic, you need to lose your cool. “Thani Oruvan” was one movie that broke all those stereotypes,” explains Arvind, who consciously decided not to use those qualities as crutches in his hugely popular role in the blockbuster. 

Kadal (2014)

Not too many know that Arvind Swamy suffered from an injury and was even paralyzed for a while in the period that he’d disappeared from cinema. How were those years of recovery? He says, “I didn’t go into a depression or anything, to be honest. I just embrace life as it happens. We all have our highs and lows. It happens, and you just need to know how to deal with.”

He’d recovered by the time Mani Ratnam approached him. “But I was scared,” Arvind confesses. “You go through so much of pain and you never know when your body will give in. Your mind is stopping you from stressing your body out, you worry about relapsing. Physically I was certified as healthy, but you tend to hesitate. It was one of those things that pushed me to see where it goes.”

What made him choose “Neengalum Vellalam Oru Kodi”?  Arvind smiles, “One, I love quizzing, and two, I didn’t want to do fiction on TV. In “Neengalum Vellalam Oru Kodi”, I have to interact with people, there’s a lot of listening. It’s quite taxing emotionally, but it appealed to me. It was right out of my comfort zone.”
 

Neengalum Vellalam Oru Kodi (2016)

 Every time he walks onto the set, he sees new contestants and it’s a new experience. Arvind says, “I understand their issues and challenges. Every other host has been prepared. But I had no preparation time. Prep time was 2 hours before I went live, and I didn’t have a clue as to how to prepare. I met Siddhartha Basu when the training happened, and he said, “I don’t know how you’re going to do this, hosts have trained for two months or three months.” I was thrown into the deep end, which is what made it more interesting.”

Unwilling to fit into a template, Arvind pushed himself to experiment with the format and says that by the 6th or 7th episode, he knew what he wanted to be. The show has enabled Arvind to meet people from all walks of life. He recalls a heart-warming episode: “A woman from the fishing community had played on the show and she was the first one to be educated in the family, and she played really well and went on to win a lot of money.”

 Arvind remembers another contestant, Muthuramalingam, a very smart man. He says, “He came on the show, but it’s after all a show. He got stuck on a question that was easier for a certain class of people, and he couldn’t answer it. He couldn’t meet the minimum guaranteed money. I chose to decide to give him the money personally from my end.  Not that I did a great thing, but it took me a good amount of shooting time to get over it. He really fought through life to educate himself against all odds and I wanted to honour that.”

How did parenting and work change him as a person? Arvind ruminates, “I was single for 10-12 years until I married again in 2012, so for me it was how I handled it. I thought, everyone has choices to make. And my choices began to revolve around how to spend my time between kids and work. I learned to prioritise. My kids have grown up now, so I’ve gone back to work. As for work, I come from a family of business. After I left the film industry, it was just the idea that you’ve got to do something for a living. Nothing else, really.”

Arvind feels that the primary purpose of a film is to just entertain people. “It depends on what you take away from it,” he says. “I can’t lecture you for two hours and call it a film. When you walk out of the theatre, you’re thinking about what could have been done, how a character could have been better. That’s still occupying your mind, so it’s continuing to entertain you. Whether it’s a film or a TV show, as long as it lingers in your mind, it’s entertainment. “

Arvind Swamy will soon be seen in the Telugu version of “Thani Oruvan” and he’s starting two more projects in November.

Union Culture and Tourism Minister Mahesh Sharma recently stirred controversy by saying that foreign women tourists should avoid wearing short dresses, skirts and skimpy clothing in the night, especially in India’s temple towns.

While India’s love-hate relationship with the skirt and mini-skirt (and us telling women they are asking for it) is not new, is the mini skirt as western or un-Indian as we think?

Historically, skirts have always been a part of Indian culture, dating as far back as the Indus Valley civilization. Illustrations of men and women from the era portray scantily clad women, with bare waists and a piece of cloth barely covering their hips and buttocks; but the length of this ‘skirt’ could go down to their knees.

Women continued to wear a variation of skirts– like the ghaghra, lehnga with a choli (blouse) and a dupatta, which evolved from the sari that came around the Vedic period. Even then, wrapping a cloth around the midriff, paired with a blouse having strings at the back or the front, was quite popular.

So then why exactly is the modern skirt so problematic in India? Before we go into that, here’s a brief history of how the mini-skirt was more of a political piece of clothing in the west before it became commonly accepted.

The Western history of the miniskirt

Like the Indus Valley civilization in the Indian subcontinent, the mini-skirt-like attire can be traced back to 5000 BC, where illustrations of the hunter-gatherers depict men, women in such garments. According to a CBS News feature from 2006, the skirt is the second oldest garment in history, says Valerie Steel, the then director of the museum at New York’s Fashion Institute of Technology.

Image source: University of Calgary library, Wikimedia Commons

And while miniskirts were worn by actresses in science-fiction shows (and there wasn’t a big fuss about it), it was only in the 1960s when the miniskirt underwent a “feminist revolution”, according to this Mic’s ‘feminist history of the miniskirt’. This coincided with an awareness about gender inequality and the second wave of feminism, with women reclaiming their right to wear what they pleased.

But the term “mini-skirt” is credited to Mary Quant - designer and owner of the iconic ‘Bazaar’ boutique in London - who raised the hemline of the skirt in 1964, and named it after her favourite car, ‘Mini’. “They (mini-skirts) celebrated youth and life and tremendous opportunity. They had a kind of ‘Look at me’ quality. They said, ‘Life is great.’” Quant told Vogue in the 1995 interview.

Through the ‘70s, ‘80s and ‘90s, women embraced the mini, albeit with some tongue-wagging from others calling it ‘indecent’ (obviously). It became a symbol of women taking ownership of their bodies, femininity as well as sexiness, without a woman’s worth being reduced. By the 2000s however, it became less of a big deal and more of the fashion must-have.

The (modern?) Indian context

While it’s tough to find a comprehensive history of the modern skirt in India, the more obvious connection that turns up is the one with films as they often end up being trendsetters. While accounts vary, it appears that the skirt came into films in late 1960s and early 1970s where women ditched the saree and lehanga, for the mini.

One of the most iconic images from Bollywood is that of Dimple Kapadia in her polka-dotted knotted crop top, paired with a black short skirt in ‘Bobby’, which instantly catapulted her to the status of a sex siren at the time. However, for the most part, women in sarees and suits were the ‘heroines’ whereas jeans and skirt donning women would be the overtly seductive vamps through the ‘70s and ‘80s.

Contrary to this trend, film critic Baradwaj Rangan told madaboutmoviez (a digital native movie website) that till the 1960s, there was no bikini or boa in Tamil cinema and the films were “family dramas with strong family-oriented cores”. Here too, the heroine was “sari-clad, demure and sexy in a girl-next-door way”.

So it was when the heroine began wearing skirts that it became accessible to the masses. In Kollywood, actress Jayanthi became the first woman to wear a skirt and a swimsuit in 1960s. “What’s wrong in wearing a swimsuit, if it is required for the film story? It's not the dress which you wear that counts, but your character and attitude,” she told Ronald Anil Fernandes of Deccan Herald in 2003.

What’s more, Tamil Nadu Chief Minister Jayalalithaa is said to be the first Tamil actress to wear skirts.

Post liberalization in 1991 though, Indian heroines’ attire began to change more towards dresses, skirts and even trousers. Now of course, actresses wearing skirts and ‘western’ clothing has become common to a large extent, but outside the reel world, the war on the ‘immodest’ skirt is still quite real.  

The war on the ‘un-Indian’ skirt

There is no dearth of politicians’ statements condemning western clothing, especially skirts and shorts. Referred to by some as “coloured clothing”, the miniskirt was almost banned in Chandigarh in April this year for the fear of it being “seditious” and being likely to incite “political discontent”. And while the logic is that girls showing skin is against Indian sensibilities, our “traditional” clothing has always been revealing too.

Take the saree for example, which exposes the midriff and a part of the back. The lehenga choli – which does the same. Working women from rural areas often lift up their sarees over their legs for convenience. But somehow, these transgressions do not matter to self-proclaimed guardians of Indian ‘culture’.

This is not to say that revealing clothes – whether Indian or western – determine a woman’s “purity” or worth. But the hypocrisy is a little too obvious, though often ignored.

Prime Minister Narendra Modi had said in June that skirts have been a part of Indian culture, referring to sculptures at Konark Sun Temple from the 13th century, which depicted the “modern fashionable girl” who carried a purse.

But he was factually incorrect, and this reaction from a Twitter user, just about sums it up.

Hmm, matlab women in India are safe in a skirt only if they are engraved in stone. K. @ANI_news

— Malay Desai (@MalayD) June 7, 2016

Thank you, Raju Murugan, for giving us a heroine who is human and needs to use the toilet.

Put like that, it might sound like a frivolous statement. After all, “Joker” isn’t just about the toilet that Malliga (Ramya Pandian) wants built in her marital home. It’s a sharply critical commentary on the failure of the government to provide basic needs to large sections of the population and the apathy with which the citizenry puts up with it.

But it is Malliga’s desire to have a toilet in her own home that forms the nucleus of the film – it’s from this ambition that her husband’s activism explodes. The urban crowd with whom I watched the film in the theatre initially burst into laughter when Malliga tells Mannar Mannan (Guru Somasundaram) her lone condition for marrying him.

But soon, the laughter died down as the reality of the situation hit home. It’s not as if the Malligas of the world are a figment of imagination. Earlier this year, a bride in Kanpur called off her wedding because the groom did not have a toilet in his house. He’d promised to construct one but did not do so in time for the wedding. She chose, instead, to marry another man who already had a toilet at home.

As this Indian Express report puts it, there are numerous difficulties that women face when it comes to sanitation facilities in the country. Either there are no toilets at all where they live or there are so few public toilets that the space tends to be extremely unclean (thereby exposing them to infections) or crowded. The women are pushed to defecate in the open rather than wait for long hours in the queue.

There is a direct correlation between girl students dropping out of school, especially after puberty, and the lack of toilet facilities in educational institutions. And then there are the horror stories of sexual violence that women are subjected to when they seek out lonely places that will offer them a semblance of privacy to perform a basic biological need.  

As with most issues that are particular to women, the toilet problem has rarely found its way to film. There are plenty of movies where we’ve seen the hero pee on the road or use the men’s toilet. We've even had films show streams of urine when it's a man who is peeing. These scenes are casually constructed, without anyone raising questions about “vulgarity” or disgust.

There are comedy tracks and action sequences that are located in the men’s toilet. But the ladies? Nope. Unless they’ve run into the toilet to hide from a villain, the heroines never seem to have the biological need to go.

It’s not that we’ve ONLY had films where heroines live in mansions with fancy bathtubs - at one point, the bathroom scene with the heroine covered in lather, was the zenith of titillation - we’ve had plenty of Tamil films set in rural areas that have shown the heroine going to the river to take a bath. Waterfalls, too.

But if she didn’t have a bathroom in her house, where did she pee or poop? We were never told and neither did we ask because it seems to be a mildly indecent question to ask about a lady, especially one who is shown to us as an object of desire.

The “chivalry”, however, appears laughable when confronted with women’s realities.

I recall very few films where a heroine’s biological need to use the toilet has ever been represented. The Marathi film “Sairat” had Archie discovering that life after elopement is not so easy when she has to use the public toilet in a slum. At first, she cannot bring herself to use the smelly, unhygienic place, but when she’s out of options, she somehow accomplishes the task.

In the first half of "NH10", Meera (Anushka Sharma) uses a toilet and wipes away the "randi" graffiti she sees there with determination. The act is a portent of what's to come.

In “Arangetra Velai”, the Tamil remake of the Malayalam super-hit, “Ramji Rao Speaking”, the two tenants, a spirited Asha (Revathi) and Sivaraman (Prabhu) fight over who gets to use the common toilet first in the morning.

Mostly though, this is not an aspect that we’re willing to show in association with the heroine. It turns off the audience. The smooth-skinned, glowing, hairless woman is elevated to the level of an apsara; she is not a mortal woman with mortal needs.

The hero’s toilet humour, on the other hand, is entertaining because his primary role is not to titillate – he is not an object and he’s permitted to have his human urges. From peeing to masturbating, all kinds of representations are acceptable.

In “Harold and Kumar go to Whitecastle”, the American adult comedy, there is an epic scene popularly called “the battleshits” that has two women competing with each other on who can make the louder noise while defecating. The scene achieved its notoriety because women are barely shown in such sequences – using the ladies’ room simply means you need to powder your nose, not empty your bowels.

Portrayals of heroines as human beings are so rare that Malliga and her toilet "fixation" didn’t make me hold my breath; she took my breath away.

“Joker” has won critical acclaim and is enjoying a good run at the box office. Its success goes to show that you don’t always need a big star-cast or a populist theme for a film to do well. Sometimes, all you need is content. Minus the gas.