(Un)happy hours

The world’s largest democracy was dealt a disgraceful slap, when just two days before its 60th Republic Day, a self-appointed moral brigade roughed up some patrons at a popular watering hole in Mangalore.

The audacity of the attack! Only women patrons were targeted.

So, besides henna, kohl, and bindis, Indian women were ‘blessed’ with another ornamental piece – the black-eye.

The group of 40 attackers, who claim affiliation to a fundamentalist, right-wing Hindu group, Sri Ram Sena, asserted that they had received complaints from the public, and were only protecting their ‘mothers and daughters,’ insisting that those beaten up, richly deserved so, indulging as they were in depraved activities, and going against our ‘rich heritage and culture.’

I belong to the same culture, and I’d like to know which of the Holy Scriptures instructs these so-called ‘God-men’ to mishandle woman and outrage their modesty.

Calling themselves keepers of religion and culture, these hooligans took the law into their hands, punching and pulling the hair of the unfortunate women. Emboldened by the fear that surrounds the victims, some of whom have received threatening calls, and playing upon the psyche of thousands others, they have also issued ultimatums for the approaching Valentine’s Day.

Quite a few glowing testimonials, you'd agree, won't you?

Misbehaviour is not unfamiliar with the Sena, which, last year, vandalised an exhibition of M.F. Husain’s paintings in New Delhi, besides targeting fashion shows, and ransacking and damaging the central office of a political party.

All the while, religion becomes a politicised issue, yet again. And politicians, they of the glib tongues, folded hands and handcrafted clothes, shake their heads in mock-disbelief, promising that the perpetrators would be seriously dealt with.

However, the next day will dawn bright and clear, and the very same politicos will fold their hands yet again, ascending the steps to another jet that will fly them into the welcome, beckoning arms of an alluring, foreign nation – one where they can ‘afford’ (at our expense) to forget all these trifling troubles.

My blood is boiling.