On sex

                       

Isn’t ‘sex’ a taboo word? A strict ‘no-no’? The “forbidden fruit”? A “besharam”, sinful, “chhi-chhi” word that, when uttered in the company of genteel people, evokes a shocked, hushed, hand-over-mouth collective cry of “Hai Ram!” and “Hai Toba!”? Quite naturally therefore, a shudder passes over me even before I begin to summon my muses to say my bit on this hush hush subject... Daunted also because of the flip side to it when with our perverted mindsets we abuse and uglify sex by heinous, unspeakable, bloodcurdling violence: but on that some other time perhaps.

Well: like it; or not.  Curse it. Flick it off your prudish mind as you would a disgusting, pesky insect. Chuck it out from the glassful of your milk of sanctimony as you would a house fly. Twist or turn your priestly, puritanical nose out of sheer shame and disgust… But sex, astride on the high horse of desire, has, and will continue to rule and reign supreme in the hearts and minds of all sentient beings perhaps like no other behavioural trait ever since life began. It is the presiding deity lurking in our consciousness. A guiding, propelling force determining most of our actions and attitudes. Being the most potent stressbuster, it adds spice, spark, thrill and excitement in our otherwise mundane, routine-bound, trouble-torn existence. It makes and breaks marriages. Animals fight deadly duels. Birds woo with song and dance, their artful nests, and ornate apparel. Humans employ a diverse arsenal of ploys, strategies and stratagems to woo and win a mate.

Poets, writers, philosophers, saints, gurus and godmen have meditated on it to shine a light on its reach and sweep, magic and wonder, power and prowess. The centuries-old temples like Khajuraho and Konark have celebrated, eulogised and immortalized sex. In fact, their mesmerising, evocative ‘poetry-carved-in-stone’ depicts sex in all its uninhibited and myriad manifestations thereby elevating it to celestial heights by investing it with a patina of the divine. Vatsyayana, a brahmin philosopher, wrote a treatise, ‘Kamasutra’, to expound on sex, sexuality and eroticism making even the otherwise liberal West sit up and take notice with surprised wonder. Osho, in his silken-tongued voice and with a sly chuckle, has waxed eloquent on it.  Busting several dogmas and myths, he has prised open the hard rind of sin and guilt that our fanatical pandits, padris and mullahs have brick-walled it with. Even more, he has lived it out as a practical philosophy in his much-in-news ‘communes’ to achieve ‘nirvana’. The great French philosopher Sartre and his equally iconoclastic mate Simone have thumbed their defiant noses at the Church-imposed Victorian morality by propounding “casual sex” and living it out themselves. The great literary genius Balzac who nearly touched Shakespearean heights, had two raging passions in life that he could (and did indeed) even die for: Weaving words into stunning masterpieces and wooing the best and the most beautiful of women that catwalked on the sensuous bosom of France. Antony staked his great Roman empire for a few hours of bliss with the Egyptian seductress, Cleopatra.

Speaking of mythology, even our gods and goddesses have succumbed to its spell. Sage Vishwamitra couldn’t resist Indra-sent Maneka’s seductive charms. He had had to break his meditation for this heavenly beauty- their sexual tango eventually giving birth to Shakuntala. Lord Indra himself had no qualms about committing adultery. He seduced sage Gautama Maharishi’s beautiful wife Ahalya who too eventually yielded to his amorous desires.  Pandavas’ polyandry with Draupadi is known to us all. So is Bhima’s dalliance with Hadimbi. And what about the-god-of-fire Agni’s (though married to Svaha) multiple same-sex encounters? Or lord Shiva being captivated by Mohini and birthing Ayappa? And lord Kama’s myriad extramarital exploits? Lord Krishna’s eight wives, collectively called “Ashta bharya”, and his countless consorts? All these, and many others, shine a glittering light of revelation on our mythological past, and our centuries-old culturally rich, liberal, vibrant, open society once. And, equally, they also look askance at our conservative, contorted, constipated mores extant now, that hold sway over our ‘saffronised’ minds and hearts cobwebbed by dogma, bigotry and orthodoxy.

Suffice it to say therefore that try as you might. Chain it. Tie or tether it. Impale it. Hang it. Shame it. Whip it. Lathi charge it. Saffronise it. Banish it. Ostracise it. Guillotine it: The moral Hitlers and Mussolinis wearing piety and chastity on their hypocritical sleeves may impose and inflict whatever they like. But there will always be Antonys and Cleopatras, Bill Clintons and Lewinskys, (the much-married) Rupert Murdocks, likes of an 80-year-old UK woman bedding a 30-year-old Egyptian (in the news recently), and even our own N D Tiwaris, to defy their diktats and hog the headlines. For, no Tihars, no Guantanamos, no Gulags, no Auschwitzes can ever muzzle, destroy or annihilate it. It will always rise from the ashes, as it were, and piggybacked on the white horse of desire - like a knight errant with a naughty and a defiant chuckle - cock a snook at the self-styled thekedars of morality: to the cheers of the free-spirited, and chagrin of the shame-nosed!

What, then, is your take on sex, my dear reader-friend?                                  

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