Vaani Kapoor is having none of it.
Brought up to believe (in part through old movies that infect the collective cultural consciousness) that desi women are to dupatta their chest, to cover their bra straps when pointed out in hushed tones by well-meaning aunties, Vaani Kapoor puts her hand on his aggressively bucking pectoralis major... and bucks as well. The pulsating hand keeps pace with him, measures out the nouveau-Bollywood hearts of a billion, brilliant young women and men who speak French, and English, and Hindi, and Telugu, and the Punjabi they've picked up from Yash Raj Films.
Vaani Kapoor raises her chin, and smirks.
Zubaan pe chad gayi.
A billion that listens to Lean On while stuck in traffic in Chembur, and plays Sapnon Mein Milti Hai on YouTube sometimes on vacant evenings in Geneva when there's chai brewing next to their Developmental Economics textbook.
Le désir coule dans mes veines.
A billion that buys front-row tickets to Penn Masala when they sing in California, and vacations in Chennai where well-meaning aunties tell them to not wear jeans to an Arijit Singh concert; the Chennai women at the concert wear miniskirts.
A billion who thinks well-meaning aunties are the bane of their existence.
A billion that wears a cocktail of kitschy ittar-scented Indianethnicwestern prints to an upscale bar in Hauz Khas that appropriates the aesthetic of a Punjabi village, drinks a Long Island Iced Tea out of a lassi glass.
Half-a-billion that is exasperated with the veritable farrago of Indian English colloquiums the other half-a-billion spews in reviews while uninstalling Snapchat.
Net se torrent jaise.
Half-a-billion whose idea of foreplay is liking Facebook posts about protests in JNU, and has a collective crush on Arundhati Roy; the other half-a-billion gets off on standing up for the national anthem, and has a collective crush on our jawans.
A billion that is still suffering and stretching against the same lines that the British drew, within and without, and now laughs on Twitter about them drawing lines around themselves.
A billion that is quite done with Bollywood video songs catering (only) to the male gaze, and through 239,084,002 views lets us know that they are having none of it.
Kudi patang si lad gayi.
Brought up to believe (in part through old movies that infect the collective cultural consciousness) that desi women are to dupatta their chest, to cover their bra straps when pointed out in hushed tones by well-meaning aunties, Vaani Kapoor puts her hand on his aggressively bucking pectoralis major... and bucks as well. The pulsating hand keeps pace with him, measures out the nouveau-Bollywood hearts of a billion, brilliant young women and men who speak French, and English, and Hindi, and Telugu, and the Punjabi they've picked up from Yash Raj Films.
Vaani Kapoor raises her chin, and smirks.
Zubaan pe chad gayi.
A billion that listens to Lean On while stuck in traffic in Chembur, and plays Sapnon Mein Milti Hai on YouTube sometimes on vacant evenings in Geneva when there's chai brewing next to their Developmental Economics textbook.
Le désir coule dans mes veines.
A billion that buys front-row tickets to Penn Masala when they sing in California, and vacations in Chennai where well-meaning aunties tell them to not wear jeans to an Arijit Singh concert; the Chennai women at the concert wear miniskirts.
A billion who thinks well-meaning aunties are the bane of their existence.
A billion that wears a cocktail of kitschy ittar-scented Indianethnicwestern prints to an upscale bar in Hauz Khas that appropriates the aesthetic of a Punjabi village, drinks a Long Island Iced Tea out of a lassi glass.
Half-a-billion that is exasperated with the veritable farrago of Indian English colloquiums the other half-a-billion spews in reviews while uninstalling Snapchat.
Net se torrent jaise.
Half-a-billion whose idea of foreplay is liking Facebook posts about protests in JNU, and has a collective crush on Arundhati Roy; the other half-a-billion gets off on standing up for the national anthem, and has a collective crush on our jawans.
A billion that is still suffering and stretching against the same lines that the British drew, within and without, and now laughs on Twitter about them drawing lines around themselves.
A billion that is quite done with Bollywood video songs catering (only) to the male gaze, and through 239,084,002 views lets us know that they are having none of it.
Kudi patang si lad gayi.
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