Why am I grumpy?.

  

There was an advertisement of Saffola cooking oil which used to be screened a year or so back. It had a hero worshipping son and doting wife cheer an obviously overweight father/husband during a parent’s event at the child’s school sports day. The overweight gentleman obviously cannot make it and a pious voice in the background addresses the wife (who herself looks fit enough to run a marathon) – “Now you must choose Saffola.”

What does this ad say to you? It says to me, as it must to any sane, thinking person;

1.       Women stay fit on  their own. Men don’t.

2.      

       2.  Even if women are unfit, Saffola should be brought in only when the men are unwell. It is alright for women to live with cholesterol, pop a heart attack. It is not alright for the men. Why not, I want to ask, since it is the men who cannot take care of themselves.  Survival of the fittest, I say.

3.   3    Men are incapable of controlling their cholesterol and other things that make them drop out of races at their children’s schools. Hence the pious voice addresses the wife, not the husband. Has anyone realized what this means for us – much of our money, our health, our government is in the hands of men. Now if he cannot be trusted to buy the correct cooking  oil, is he fit enough to deal with my hard earned money?

For those of you reading this and thinking that I am a grumpy, cynical pessimist and the wife’s concern is one of pure love, how about you showing me one advertisement where, as soon as a wife gets her premenstrual cramps, a pious voice advises the concerned looking husband, “Now you must buy food with lots of iron.”

Show me. And I might believe. I still want to.

And now, since I have claimed that this blog would be based on my experiences as a woman, a confession is due. I must admit that my angst on the Saffola advertisement above is not fuelled purely by an upright anger over a woman’s secondary place in society. Part of the angst also stems from my secondary place at the lunch table at work. This secondary place is also shared by some of my other female colleagues.

At this lunch table as I and some of the aforementioned female colleagues take out our tiffin cases or bring in a usual ‘thali’ from the canteen, many, if not all of our male colleagues are unpacking elaborate tiffin boxes. The gentleman in front of me takes out a Tupperware box. Large size. This box yields lovingly folded and packed rotis, a little dollop of rice. Some fish, some dal, a little vegetable. A chilli and a lemon wedge. Oh. And even a sweet. And there is a napkin – clean and fresh. And some lassi to wash this down with. I look at my healthy but practical box of sabu dana khichdi. Which is all I have time for making. And it’s healthy, isn’t it?

 My male colleague catches us staring stonily at his lunch box. He has the courtesy to look a little embarrassed, and says, ”Actually you see, I have very high cholesterol, so Meenu is very particular about what I eat,” The Saffola ad comes flooding back.

My female colleague, whose tiffin resembles mine responds grumpily, “I tell you, Malini – there’s not much point in marrying a husband. I think I want to marry a wife now. I also want a tiffin like his.” I agree completely and plod grimly through my sabu dana khichdi. And hold society responsible seating me at the lunch table without allowing me a partner who looks after my cholesterol and lunch box.   

There are So Many Things to be grumpy about.