Parliamentary matters: Sarees and facials? Why not?
Supriya Sule found herself in a bit of a spot this week when a great deal of faltu fuss was made over her casual “sarees and facials’’ remarks to students. She’d candidly told the youngsters that along with other weighty matters, our women parliamentarians also indulge in some nonweighty girl talk. They discuss sarees and facials, swap shopping notes and generally behave like normal human beings.
Not a big deal, I’d say. Right? Apparently, not! Even after Sule clarified that a tiny clip – no more than a few seconds – was being projected as the main topic of her speech (in which she had extensively covered other, far more serious issues ), the debate raged on. That’s politics. Critics and rivals pounce on anything and everything to run opponents down. But in this case, her saree/facial comments were turned into a fake feminist discourse on how women representatives of the people waste time and public money on idle chitter chatter, blah blah blah.
Ummmm... wait a minute... so, it’s okay for senior party leaders ( worthy men of a certain standing and girth) to be caught snoring on camera, scratching body parts, digging their noses, haranguing colleagues, when they aren’t disrupting house proceedings? And what do these amazing chaps talk about when we see them gup-shupping with male party mates? How do we know they aren’t discussing the colour of each other’s well -coordinated outfits? Or talking hair transplants? Dental implants?
That’s when I switch gears and try valiantly to keep their restless minds engaged. Sometimes, the questions asked are so annoyingly dumb, I find myself responding with an even dumber reply. Big mistake. God help you if there are a couple of reporters in the audience. That’s all they’ll pick up – a careless aside, a quip, a joke. And to hell with the rest of your painstakingly put together presentation.
For the longest time, I used to trot out astandard line while responding to a question that was unfailingly asked at the end of any session – even one dealing with child abuse, rape, social injustice. At some point, a hand would go up and a person would ask earnestly, “Madam, we all want to know how you preserve yourself?” I would quip, “In vinegar, of course.” This joke started to back fire when ladies started to take it seriously by asking an alarming follow up question: “Do you also splash vinegar on your face?” Initially, I would dead pan, “Of course. Thrice a day!” Finally, a wellmeaning friend warned me to stop the ‘running joke’ because a few ladies were likely to take it at face value (!) and experiment with the vinegar routine themselves. That’s when I stopped kidding about it. I still get asked this brilliant question. These days, my answer is less provocative.
Come on... when women meet, they definitely want to unwind and indulge in harmless ‘guppa’. I love discussing sarees. Facials, I know nothing about, so I skip that part. I am certain Supriya Sule was merely trying to lighten up a dead boring student interaction session and inject a bit of light-hearted banter into the proceedings. The stereotyping of women politicians is so damn tedious. It’s easy to dismiss their social/ political contribution by pointing out how they fritter away their time gossiping in Parliament when they should be solving the problems of the world.
Get real! Most of those dreadful Parliamentary debates are like potent sleeping pills.... they instantly put listeners into a coma. Imagine the tedium of sitting through these dull debates without a breather. It’s really pretty silly to pick on Supriya for that throwaway remark. Catch her for something else. Ask her relevant questions about promises made but not kept. Hold her responsible for schemes announced but not completed. Give her a hard time by all means. As citizens it is our duty to ensure Parliamentarians work responsibly for us. Make your elected representatives responsible.... accountable. But hey – leave our sarees, manicures, facials, hair extensions, botox, coloured lenses, fancy accessories alone.
P.S. I definitely want to know where Kanimozhi gets her one of a kind Kanjeevarams from. I need the contact deets for Sushma Swaraj’s tailor. And I quite like Smriti Irani’s shawls, Hema Malini’s shades and Sonia Gandhi’s winter jackets. Wonder if Maneka Gandhi gets regular facials? But she definitely colours her hair. As for Madam Rekha, everyone wants to know her beauty secrets and flawless tvacha ka raaz.... trouble is, she never attends Parliament!
Not a big deal, I’d say. Right? Apparently, not! Even after Sule clarified that a tiny clip – no more than a few seconds – was being projected as the main topic of her speech (in which she had extensively covered other, far more serious issues ), the debate raged on. That’s politics. Critics and rivals pounce on anything and everything to run opponents down. But in this case, her saree/facial comments were turned into a fake feminist discourse on how women representatives of the people waste time and public money on idle chitter chatter, blah blah blah.
Ummmm... wait a minute... so, it’s okay for senior party leaders ( worthy men of a certain standing and girth) to be caught snoring on camera, scratching body parts, digging their noses, haranguing colleagues, when they aren’t disrupting house proceedings? And what do these amazing chaps talk about when we see them gup-shupping with male party mates? How do we know they aren’t discussing the colour of each other’s well -coordinated outfits? Or talking hair transplants? Dental implants?
The moral of the story is for political figures to watch every word uttered in the public space. Especially when addressing students. I have been caught on the wrong foot several times myself. It’s tempting to drop one’s guard at the sight of eager, young faces in the audience, most suffering from a severe case of attention deficit syndrome. Two minutes into an issue-driven speech and I notice their eyes glazing over. Their smart phones get whipped out, and I know in a flash I’m on the verge of losing them.
That’s when I switch gears and try valiantly to keep their restless minds engaged. Sometimes, the questions asked are so annoyingly dumb, I find myself responding with an even dumber reply. Big mistake. God help you if there are a couple of reporters in the audience. That’s all they’ll pick up – a careless aside, a quip, a joke. And to hell with the rest of your painstakingly put together presentation.
For the longest time, I used to trot out astandard line while responding to a question that was unfailingly asked at the end of any session – even one dealing with child abuse, rape, social injustice. At some point, a hand would go up and a person would ask earnestly, “Madam, we all want to know how you preserve yourself?” I would quip, “In vinegar, of course.” This joke started to back fire when ladies started to take it seriously by asking an alarming follow up question: “Do you also splash vinegar on your face?” Initially, I would dead pan, “Of course. Thrice a day!” Finally, a wellmeaning friend warned me to stop the ‘running joke’ because a few ladies were likely to take it at face value (!) and experiment with the vinegar routine themselves. That’s when I stopped kidding about it. I still get asked this brilliant question. These days, my answer is less provocative.
Come on... when women meet, they definitely want to unwind and indulge in harmless ‘guppa’. I love discussing sarees. Facials, I know nothing about, so I skip that part. I am certain Supriya Sule was merely trying to lighten up a dead boring student interaction session and inject a bit of light-hearted banter into the proceedings. The stereotyping of women politicians is so damn tedious. It’s easy to dismiss their social/ political contribution by pointing out how they fritter away their time gossiping in Parliament when they should be solving the problems of the world.
Get real! Most of those dreadful Parliamentary debates are like potent sleeping pills.... they instantly put listeners into a coma. Imagine the tedium of sitting through these dull debates without a breather. It’s really pretty silly to pick on Supriya for that throwaway remark. Catch her for something else. Ask her relevant questions about promises made but not kept. Hold her responsible for schemes announced but not completed. Give her a hard time by all means. As citizens it is our duty to ensure Parliamentarians work responsibly for us. Make your elected representatives responsible.... accountable. But hey – leave our sarees, manicures, facials, hair extensions, botox, coloured lenses, fancy accessories alone.
P.S. I definitely want to know where Kanimozhi gets her one of a kind Kanjeevarams from. I need the contact deets for Sushma Swaraj’s tailor. And I quite like Smriti Irani’s shawls, Hema Malini’s shades and Sonia Gandhi’s winter jackets. Wonder if Maneka Gandhi gets regular facials? But she definitely colours her hair. As for Madam Rekha, everyone wants to know her beauty secrets and flawless tvacha ka raaz.... trouble is, she never attends Parliament!
Disclaimer: The views expressed here are the author's own. The opinions and facts expressed here do not reflect the views of Mirror and Mirror does not assume any responsibility or liability for the same.
