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Modern Family: With Anand Philip

amrita_rajan — Mon, 16 Apr 2012 03:30:21 +0000

This month’s brand new 15-minute episode of the Modern Family podcast features Dr. Anand Philip a.k.a. @uberschizo.

Podcast by Amrita Rajan

Although his interests are varied, Dr. Philip is one of the rare male bloggers to write about feminism and gender violence at the aptly named Cerebral Salad. In a free-ranging conversation, we covered:

Gender Violence

- What made him first pay attention?

- Why don’t more people think it’s a problem? Is it because people are disinclined to believe survivors?

- Abuse survivors who’re looking for any sliver of an opening to end their silence

- The impact of a recent article by feminist author Meena Kandasamy, detailing her abuse

Men and Gender Violence

- Why don’t more men discuss the subject?

- The paucity of academic research into domestic violence as inflicted by men, but especially as inflicted upon men

- The need to reclaim the men’s rights movement from misogynists

The Modern Indian Man

- The emotional availability of the Indian male

- Marriage as a social contract to which you’re automatically committed

- The changing ideal of the perfect mate

21^st Century Marriage

- The option to walk out – a necessary part of marriage and its biggest challenge

- Increasing expectations

- “Love is not a feeling, it’s an act of your will.”

Click to play or use the download button to listen at your leisure!

Modern Family: With Unmana

admin — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 03:30:18 +0000

On a brand new 20-min episode of Modern Family, we are joined by marketing professional Unmana of the blog Unmana’s Words.

The hardest part of any marriage can be money. Who earns it, how to manage it, where to spend it – it can create strong differences in the best of couples. And if it was hard back in the days of single-income families, then things have only become more complicated since it’s become acceptable for women to join the workforce.

Unmana discusses:

- The importance of communication in a relationship

- Why women need a “runaway fund”

- Maintaining separate finances – pros and cons

- The financial challenges of marrying young and

- The freedom of your own bank account

Click to play or click on the download button to listen at your leisure. Join us next month for a brand new episode of Modern Family!

Modern Family: With Broom

amrita_rajan — Mon, 20 Feb 2012 03:20:42 +0000

In a brand new 17-minute episode this month, the Modern Family podcast returns with Broom from the popular blog, Confessions from the Closet.

Podcast by Amrita Rajan

Broom is also the Co-founder of GaysiFamily – one of the first desi LGBT-oriented websites to give equal voice to the Indian lesbian experience. She talks about the modern Indian marriage as someone who was once in a conservative marriage with a man and is now in a deeply committed relationship with a woman.

We discuss:

- The difficulties of growing up, embracing our identities, and learning to vocalize our emotions

- The changing face of India as it slowly begins to accept the LGBT community

- Coming out as queer to friends and family, online and offline

- Interracial relationships and same-gender relationships

- The importance of equality in marriage

- Expecting better from our spouses vs. “learning to adjust”

Click to play or use the download button to listen at your leisure!

Modern Family: With Orange Jammies

amrita_rajan — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 07:25:29 +0000

In our new series of podcasts, ‘Modern Family’, we explore the state of the modern Indian marriage with people from various walks of life.

First up on this 15-minute episode is Orange Jammies, a feminist blogger and (almost) newlywed, talking about her own marriage and how she has seen gender roles changing in our daily lives.

In this podcast we discuss:

- Housework – who does it and why?

- Nature vs. Nurture – what drives men and women toward an equal partnership?

- Role Models – the importance of role models from the opposite gender.

- Generation – the meaning of marriage for the younger set.

(The podcast begins with a discussion of a recent ad for a breakfast product – if you haven’t seen the ad in question, check it out here).

Click to play or click on the download button and listen at your leisure!

Celeb Baby Culture: An Indian Awakening?

amrita_rajan — Tue, 27 Dec 2011 08:01:04 +0000

Is celebrity baby culture here to stay in India? Do celebrities like Lara Dutta and Aamir Khan have some lessons for us? Listen to the first Women’s Web podcast!

By Amrita Rajan

Everything the Bachchans do makes the news – even if it’s just being born. This is the lesson we learned from the arrival of “Beti B”, the daughter of Aishwarya Rai Bachchan and Abhishek Bachchan. It was such a hotly anticipated event, even in these troubled times, that the I&B Ministry actually sent out guidelines for news crews to follow.

In the first episode of the Spotlight podcast, Sunayana Roy of the blog Sunny Days joins me to discuss:

- Has celebrity baby culture officially arrived in India?

- Is the Bachchan family’s obvious joy at welcoming a granddaughter a positive sign for society at large?

- Can celebrities really influence other people’s child raising choices?

- Lara Dutta and maternity wear against the backdrop of Indian pregnancy superstitions

- The phenomenon of “too posh to push” – a convenient cover for doctors who like to push costly C-sections on their patients?

- The generational gap: will we turn into our mothers?

- Aamir Khan and Kiran Rao’s surrogacy boosting morale

Celeb Baby Culture: Here to stay? by Women’s Web

For all this and more, click on the podcast above to play!

If there is a topic you’d like to see covered on this show or have other suggestions for us, we’d love to hear from you in the comment section.

Pic credit: Boris

Kids Take Over Television Channels

amrita_rajan — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 05:35:23 +0000

Even as reality shows on Indian television channels showcase the talent of gifted children, what do they tell children about Winning?

By Amrita Rajan

The great reality show juggernaut that established Zee TV as a ratings superstar in the Wild West days of 1990s cable television was Antakshari. Based on a popular parlour game usually played by children, it featured adult contestants, a live band, and a host who was palpably passionate about music. Five years after it aired its last episode, however, things are very different – now children on Indian television channels take part in reality show competitions originally designed for adults, with lackluster celebrity judges who often bring nothing to the table other than their ego.

Indian television discovered the power of cute child actors when Balika Vadhu – the story of a child bride who must balance her dreams of a bright, independent future with her untimely marriage in a conservative, rural society – became an unlikely ratings phenomenon. In the years since, the number of fiction programs featuring little children has increased exponentially: Aap ki Antara (Zee), Uttaran (Colors), and Phulwa (Colors) all adapted the Balika Vadhu formula of marrying an ostensibly social message with extremely familiar melodrama to tremendous profit. Even historical epics like Jhansi ki Rani (Zee), Chandragupta Maurya (Imagine), and Veer Sivaji (Colors) begin with the lead characters as brave children who live startlingly adult lives. No normal childhood for these kids, not when they have to grow up into national icons. These children are martial arts experts, waging war and playing politics, exhibiting a strong sense of patriotic duty, completely dedicated to serving the mother nation.

Personally, I find the whole trend to be more than a little creepy; a negation of humanity in our leaders. Sure the Ramayana and the Mahabharata had extensive tales of the characters as children, but they weren’t righteous robots. They were kids having adventures on a grand scale unlike the child actors of Indian TV who’re engaged in grim battles with fate and occupying powers. But the ratings do not lie: India loves it when little kids battle it out.

…the Ramayana and the Mahabharatahad extensive tales of the characters as children, but they weren’t righteous robots.

Not just on fiction programs, but especially on reality shows. Every Indian language that boasts a television channel has kids performing their little hearts out. They sing old Bollywood standards composed decades before their parents were born – and I wonder if they even understand what they’re singing about. They dance to the latest chartbuster – and I cringe as they ape the thumkas and jhatkas of their favorite star.

But it’s not just the spectacle that puts me off. No, contrarian as it sounds, what bothers me is what these shows actually get right: When these shows are at their best, they feature some gifted children who’ve truly struggled against tremendous odds to make it on to the national stage. And they clearly do take pride in what they do and put in long hours of practice. The sheer amount of physical, emotional and mental effort is visible.

And it’s the knowledge that these children probably work harder than most adults I know, juggling huge amounts of stress and pressure as they compete for reasons they’re too young to completely comprehend, that I find difficult to digest. I’m sure they love what they do and really enjoy being in the spotlight. But what does fame and a recording contract really mean to a 10-year-old? These kids are seeking approval from authority figures, from parents to judges to audience members, and I can only imagine how they feel when they’re voted out.

Competition is such an integral part of childhood. From sibling rivalry to running races with your friends and getting good grades to being popular, the socialization of children is often focused around the importance of winning. We might tell children that it’s the effort that counts, not the result, but kids are smart enough to evaluate and figure it out for themselves – he who comes first, gets the life-changing multi-lakh contract that makes their parents happy; he who comes second, gets a perfunctory pat on the back. Having it play out on national television only underscores the message.

Earnest little kids trying to copy the adults they admire are frequently adorable, no doubt, but the flip side of that equation is that they’re absolutely heartbreaking when they fail. Some of them, you can actually watch crumble mentally on stage as they realize they forgot a specific instruction or missed a note or otherwise messed up. And of course, this is the emotional core of competing on reality television – pain is the magical sweet spot that keeps the audience at home interested week after week.

We might tell children that it’s the effort that counts, not the result, but kids are smart enough to evaluate and figure it out for themselves…

Once upon a time, you had shows like the Javed Jaffrey-hosted Boogie Woogie. And it remains, till date, in my memory as one of the best examples of its kind because it never felt exploitative. You got the feeling that the judges were actively rooting for the contestants, child or adult, to have fun and express themselves. The point wasn’t to make money, it was to be the best you could be. When kids came on the show, the hosts treated them like the children they were instead of embryonic stars-in-the-making. But these days they won’t even let you on Kaun Banega Crorepati without an affecting sob story.

October sees the launch of a new show called Haar Jeet (Imagine). It’s the story of child actors who’re relentlessly overworked by their greedy parents. I wonder where they got that idea.

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Nice Girls Don’t Do Adventures

admin — Mon, 19 Sep 2011 06:42:01 +0000

Female bonding seems to take a backseat in cinema, be it women-centric or otherwise.

By Amrita Rajan

The first thing my brother did upon getting his driver’s license was to set off on a short road trip to visit the extended family. He simply woke up at the crack of dawn, dragged a cousin out of bed for company, left word for all concerned parents with a passing servant, and drove off in his pajamas. I thought it was an excellent demonstration of the fact that we didn’t live in a gender equal world, no matter what our parents told us or how comfortable I got in my little oasis of privilege.

Had the genders been reversed, for instance, there was no way my female cousin and I could have gotten away with pulling a stunt like that. First, the old family servant who’d taken my brother’s offhand message with a conspiratorial grin would have chained himself to us if necessary rather than let us out of the house without so much as a word to our mothers. Nor would the aunt and uncle who received my brother later that day with big smiles for his little lark have been half as happy or impressed to see me under similar circumstances. And never in a million years would I have taken the recommendation of one of the family drivers and stopped at a toddy shop along the way for lunch, no matter how excellent their down-home cooking, least of all when dressed in my pajamas.

Girl-fun and Boy-fun are frequently two entirely different beasts, but a lot of Girl-fun in India isn’t merely predicated on personal preference but on whether she’s likely to end up raped and murdered at the end of it.

A recent New York Times article about the increasing success of female directors in Bollywood notes:

Critics… remarked that a woman directed the best Bollywood bromance of the last 10 years. “Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara” was also written by women: the story and screenplay were by Ms. Akhtar and Reema Kagti … Interestingly, unlike earlier female filmmakers, this new generation isn’t making women-centric cinema. Ms. Akhtar said that she never considered turning the friends in “Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara” into women because that “would have been a very different journey.”

I’ll say! A movie in which a trio of upper class Indian men take a significant amount of time off from their real lives to travel, get drunk, hook up with random women and flirt with danger while renewing their friendship could possibly be held up as aspirational or even inspirational; the same movie with women in the lead would bring out every outraged moralist within yelling distance. For that matter, even male-centric movies like ZNMB and its predecessor-in-soul Dil Chahta Hai are careful to suggest that the non-traditional women in them are either damaged in some way or white/half-white. At all events, they are somehow Other – they’re not your sister or your daughter, don’t worry and please don’t ban our film.

…even male-centric movies like ZNMB and its predecessor-in-soul Dil Chahta Hai are careful to suggest that the non-traditional women in them are either damaged in some way or white/half-white.

Perhaps this is by design, maybe it’s not. But the fact remains there simply aren’t a lot of Indian movies where a bunch of girlfriends get together for an adventure. Outliers like Gurinder Chaddha’s Bhaji on the Beach and Kabir Khan’s Chak De India are exactly that – exceptional experiments. There are a few movies in which singular women get to do exciting things – Geet in Imtiaz Ali’s Jab We Met is on a highly individualistic quest to find romance in her tradition-bound life, and Shruti in Maneesh Sharma’s Band Baaja Baaraat is determined to become a self-made business woman through doing something she loves. But as romcoms directed by men, I guess they’re merely women-positive cinema, not women’s cinema or women-centric cinema as per the popular definition.

To paraphrase Farah Khan, “women-centric cinema” has become shorthand for that which is the opposite of fun and positive. The very term evokes images of fragile, depressed women caught in a sorrowful cycle of unceasing violence and degradation until they either die or become shatteringly violent themselves. Indian television loves this theme – the rural/small-town dramas have an almost pornographic quality to them as they wallow in all the ways women, especially conservative women brought up to revere the patriarchy, can be physically, mentally, verbally or sexually assaulted. Criticism is sidelined by a small banner that scrolls past to announce that said lovingly detailed depiction of abuse is meant to protest violence against women.

…the rural/small-town dramas have an almost pornographic quality to them as they wallow in all the ways women can be assaulted.

This is not the way it was supposed to be. Male screenwriters and directors regularly mine the psyches of men in search of drama and label it mainstream; women-centric cinema was supposed to even the playing field, introduce female voices into the larger picture. In our national context, it is but natural that violence in all its forms would be the first port of call for a storyteller seeking to portray the true female Indian experience – domestic violence, street harassment, dowry deaths, etc.

The problem is, women already know it and so do the men likely to care. The reason why the famous McDonald’s scene in Chak De was such a hit with women across India was because it featured young women standing up for each other and themselves in a manner that every woman I know has wished to do. And it was placed inside a story that treated women as human beings with actual ambitions, flaws, and determination, while acknowledging how difficult it was for them to be recognized as such.

That’s the kind of cinema I can get behind.

I’ll Be Barbie When I Grow Up

amrita_rajan — Tue, 23 Aug 2011 05:56:50 +0000

A growing celebrity culture and 24×7 connectivity means that ‘role models’ today exist only as long as their 15 minutes of fame.

By Amrita Rajan

I’ve yet to sit through an entire episode of Simi Garewal’s India’s Most Desirable without cringing so terribly in second-hand embarrassment for everyone involved that I had to change the channel. But watching the youthful, enthusiastic audience on it makes me wonder if she knows something I don’t. Maybe these painfully young celebrities, trying to act more worldly than their years, who have nothing interesting to say other than the fact that they’re rich and good-looking, are the role models of today.

Even the term “role model” seems charmingly old-fashioned these days, more suited to beauty pageants and earnest 10-year olds in need of an essay topic. It used to be that a role model was someone you selected because their achievements held personal meaning for you – now they and their fabulous lives come pre-packaged and ready for consumption via a host of media, all of them focused on what sells.

Not surprisingly, therefore, the most celebrated role models tend to date from before the internet – or at least before people started carrying it with them on their phones. In the time before we were all connected to each other 24×7, it was easy to confuse an actor with the roles he played or admire a sportsman without knowing how he conducted himself off-field. Now you know Priyanka Chopra’s plans for the weekend, the state of Aishwarya Rai Bachchan’s uterus, Shane Warne’s embarrassing transformation into Liz Hurley’s Ken doll, and Shahrukh Khan invites you into his home for a personal tour.

Women, of course, have their own added burdens. Their personal lives are always somehow more suspect, their achievements less valid, their causes and concerns a mere passing phase that’s easily fixed by marriage and a couple of kids. Strong women are only palatable if they derive their strength from a higher power like Mother Teresa; otherwise they are “manly” and “aggressive”. And if all else fails, just hide their accomplishments under a mountain of glitz.

Consider Katrina Kaif, a hardworking young woman who has spent years in a foreign country (i.e. India), learning its language, adapting to its culture, working in an extremely demanding masculine environment, and living on her own. From Boom to Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara, she has managed to make it to the top of her chosen career. As a working woman, she’s a hell of a role model. But according to her press, Katrina Kaif’s greatest accomplishment is who she’s dating and the fact that she’s the living embodiment of Bollywood Barbie. And you too can be like her if you buy this fairness cream.

This is not a phenomenon restricted to actors who, after all, make their living based on their looks and thus might be expected to deal with this kind of scrutiny. Hundreds of trees died so people could read about the length of Sania Mirza’s skirt and the details of her wedding party. The Gandhi women – Sonia, Maneka, and Priyanka – still inspire fan fiction related to everything from the men in their lives to their clothes.

Maybe we should take heart from the fact that the press has now experienced a similar nervous breakdown over MS Dhoni’s style statements and poor Ratan Tata is drawing unwanted attention to his singleton status on the cusp of retirement. But it begs the question: what constitutes a role model in this day and age? Someone who wins a poll run by a news channel or the steroid-crazed action hero your toddler loves to imitate?

A study about women in Indian politics (PDF) notes that female role models are important for women because they help create a roadmap for dealing with common challenges. I’d argue that what women need today are mentors. As times change and more women enter the work force, the number one challenge facing women is that they are denied access to something that men take for granted every day – other people who’ve been in the exact same position they are in today.

There is a reason why so many young women automatically declare their mothers when asked to name a role model – the things you admire about your mother have little to do with how the world perceives her and everything to do with her contribution to your life. And she’s the one person who once stood in your shoes and perhaps took a different turn.

Selling Lipstick, Talking Empowerment

admin — Mon, 18 Jul 2011 01:55:04 +0000

Are women’s magazines in India interested in the reality and wider experiences of today’s women?

By Amrita Rajan

Regardless of gender, age or interest, at some point or the other, most of us have read a woman’s magazine. Our mothers subscribed to it, some auntie was always using you as a guinea pig for an exotic recipe she discovered in one, girl friends smuggled it into school to giggle over the sex column, guy friends borrowed it to find out more about women, you’ve leafed through it at the beauty parlour. Nominally, they target a niche audience, but when the aforesaid niche is half the population, it’s no wonder that the ladymags are shaping the national consciousness in subtle ways.

Neither is it surprising that in a country like India, with its several languages and varying socio-economic realities, women’s magazines cater to a variety of tastes. And over the years, the difference between the so-called vernacular publications and the English magazines, whether it’s homegrown or the Indian edition of an international brand, has grown vast.

With few exceptions, Indian women’s magazines in English are following the mainstream trend by increasingly pitching their content towards a more urbanized, Westernized, youthful market. They carry ads for handbags that cost thousands of rupees, show models wearing labels that usually retail in dollar amounts and feature dream holidays that run into lakhs of rupees. The articles are about sex toys and multiple partners; the recipes need ingredients only available at specialty shops.

The pictorials – like pictorials everywhere, I suppose – showcase women who’re three sizes thinner, one foot taller and several shades fairer than anyone you know in real life.

The pictorials – like pictorials everywhere, I suppose – showcase women who’re three sizes thinner, one foot taller and several shades fairer than anyone you know in real life. And the poster women are the new Bollywood It Girls: bold, fashion forward, and loving it all. I’m sure your mother is still welcome to subscribe but this is the dream as sold to young professional women with disposable incomes.

Theoretically, this is cause for cheer. As India transforms economically, Indian women are changing too. They have their own concerns, many of them new to India, which include – dating: online, in the office, friends of friends; housing: living alone, with roommates, as a paying guest; commuting: long distances, in a city, traveling for work; dressing: corporate wear, casual Fridays, while socializing. What is appropriate behavior, codes of conduct in unfamiliar situations and alien spaces, dealing with the emotional fallout of the single life… these young women are the pioneers of our time and your modern woman’s magazine is well-poised to become their Bible, replicating a kind of success that has long since faded in the West.

But thanks to a combination of international editions that retain certain portions of their original British or American content (Cosmopolitan, Marie Claire, etc) and Indian magazines that seek to compete (Femina, Women’s Era, etc), reading a glossy ladymag in India can be a fairly schizophrenic experience. Inside the expensive, high quality pages are two Indias – one is upper class, the other is middle class. And sometimes it seems like the magazine’s entire focus lies in giving tips to the latter on how to act like the former.

Apart from the obligatory article or two on sexual harassment and healthy living, few seem interested in exploring the wider experience of the young Indian woman. Perhaps this is what lipstick feminism boils down to in countries like India: a focus on selling actual, overpriced lipstick rather than debating what it represents.

…despite all the clever advertising slogans, there isn’t a brand in the world, luxury or otherwise, that can help you buy better self esteem or magically transform you into Aishwarya Rai.

I’m reminded of a scene from Sanjeev Bhaskar’s [The Kumars at No. 42] travel documentary in which he briefly signed on as a guest judge alongside Maureen Wadia for what I assume was one of the preliminary rounds of the Gladrags Mrs. India contest. He would later dub it “the world’s strangest beauty pageant”. Hopeful young women appeared before the panel to be asked such zingers as, “What do you think of the mile high club?” only to look completely mystified and subsequently mortified by the fact that they were ignorant of a highly public, uncomfortable and completely unsanitary sex act.

That is the power of the dream. It is largely an empty one – despite all the clever advertising slogans, there isn’t a brand in the world, luxury or otherwise, that can help you buy better self esteem or magically transform you into Aishwarya Rai. But as reality television and movies like Bunty aur Babli have taught us so well over the past few years, it is a dream fuelled by ambition. The desire to become one of the glittering throng is deep. People want to be part of the It crowd, be it ever so foreign, and they’ll go to any lengths to achieve it.

Indian women’s magazines have gone through many changes over the years – they’ve spoken for empowerment, encouraged literary voices, and created a space where women could frankly discuss issues of importance to them without judgment, be it in the early 20th century or much more recently. If only they could continue that fine example.

Reel Fathers, You Can Do Better!

admin — Sun, 26 Jun 2011 10:29:03 +0000

If there’s one thing Bollywood can teach parents, it’s what NOT to do. Take a look at the 5 Worst Bollywood Daddies ever!

By Amrita Rajan

Since the general conceit of a movie requires some kind of conflict for the characters to solve, nobody should be surprised that Bollywood isn’t exactly brimming over with great father figures. After all, the introduction of good parenting immediately removes several tried-and-tested plots from our beloved family blockbusters. For example, they say Indian storytelling will always be indebted to the Ramayana and the Mahabharata. Two epics brimming over with bad parenting decisions.

This month, with Father’s Day just having gone by, let’s look at some of the worst decisions a father can make… Bollywood-style.

Green Says Go – The friendliest and nicest of Bollywood fathers all have one fatal flaw: they’ve never learned to say No. You know the type – Anupam Kher has played almost every possible example of this variety. They buy their kids out of every situation, building a consequence-free lifestyle that passes as a symbol of their love for their progeny. Eventually, the child turns up with a conman for boyfriend or the family’s greatest enemy for a fiance and all hell breaks loose.

Now, I’m not saying indulging your kid in some retail therapy will eventually land him or her in rehab, but sometimes, the best gift you can get your kid is to take back the credit card. She might not like you very much for a while, but being intensely disliked at some point is a pretty significant part of being a responsible parent.

Tough love might build character but not tyranny of the sort where the child isn’t allowed to retain a single idea in his head unless it was expressly placed there by the father.

Forbidden Fruit – At the other extreme we have the father who can never say Yes to anything. If he had his way, the kid would be a well-trained robot, stored safely in a closet and brought out for special occasions. Tough love might build character but not tyranny of the sort where the child isn’t allowed to retain a single idea in his head unless it was expressly placed there by the father. No child should be reduced to a voiceless puppet in the name of parental authority. Sadly, in real life, fathers like Amrish Puri in Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge and Rishi Kapoor in Patiala House don’t magically learn the error of their ways. They end up dividing families and supporting honour-killings instead.

Do-Nothing Philosopher - Of all the Bollywood stereotypes, this is the gold standard of Most Annoying as far as I’m concerned. Here is a father, often with a dictatorial wife, who stands by and watches sadly as his sons grow greedy, his daughters promiscuous, and his daughters-in-law more tortured. Without doing a single thing to either stop or rectify the situation. Unless you count the numerous times he puts on an owlish expression and mouths little bits of rhyme or proverbs or something similar to express his discontent with the state of his family. Argh! What is wrong with this man? Kader Khan was a top favorite in this genre, usually in the 1980s’ South remakes. Dear Fathers-of-the-World, there is a time to quote poetry; when your family is going to the dogs is not it.

Manipulator Generator - Everyone from Prithviraj Kapoor in Mughal-e-Azam to Paresh Rawal in long-forgotten middling 90s hits has played this one. It’s the classic bait-and-switch where you promise and convince your kid that you’re totally on their side and have been listening very carefully to their list of demands… right up until the time you drop a concrete block on all their dearest hopes and trick them into giving you what you want. In the movies, of course, this is all about their choice of spouse. Let’s face it, people in Bollywood seldom have any troubles unrelated to marriage. But I feel emotional blackmail mixed with flat out lying is a parenting technique with much wider potential. Of course, if your kid catches on to your manipulation, he’ll never trust anything you say ever again. So if you’re planning to fake a heart attack some time, you better make sure you’re not actually at risk for a real cardiac arrest in case your child thinks you’re crying wolf again and leaves you to die by your lonesome self.

It’s the classic bait-and-switch where you promise and convince your kid that you’re totally on their side… right up until the time you drop a concrete block on all their dearest hopes…

Kingpin Troubles - Anil Kapoor and Nana Patekar might have played it for laughs in Welcome, but as an angry Ajay Devgn taught India in the 90s, it’s hard out there for the children of mobsters. (Especially the illegitimate ones but I think that was a Devgn subgenre, so never mind that.) But why single out mafia dons? Bollywood is littered with the sad progeny of men successful in other fields of work. These kids have never been loved because their papa was too busy making money and their mothers died mysteriously – of some waiting disease probably.

And when they do finally find love, their father either immediately wants to kill the lover or the lover wants to kill the father for complicated reasons frequently involving robbed inheritances. So if you’re a successful man who one day hopes to have children, either clean up your act or just refrain from having kids. Who wants to spend their golden years in jail or six feet under ground?