50 Shades of Seriously Messed up --- An Obituary of Literature....

After decades of war against male dominance, the insanely popular trilogy by E L James delivers a resounding slap on the face of every modern women of the 21^st century. What is worse is that women everywhere are greedily lapping it up. Today every book store shamelessly flaunts rows upon rows of these infuriating display of abysmal vocabulary – the “mommy porn” novels. India is no stranger to Mrs. E L James’ minting press either. It is astounding how the country which, not so long ago, went berserk at the very public peck on Shilpa Shetty’s cheeks at an STD campaign, is buzzing about  “Christian Grey flavoured popsicle”.

Born in a country where women are still required to first serve men their meals before retiring to the kitchen to their own plates, I have always believed in breaking free of the male chauvinistic norms. Therefore I believe I have the right to be appalled at the message that today’s women are sending to the world. The enormity of the success of the trilogy, in a way, reflects that women, in fact, are still fascinated by an alpha male who would love nothing better than to dominate every aspect of your life. Every teenager giggling over pages and pages of virginal Anastasia Steele’s accomplishments in the sack, are completely disregarding her total lack of reservation and grace.  The literature-lover in me is slowly dying a painful death at the outrageous comparisons that are being drawn between Mr. Grey and celebrated literary heroes like Austen’s Mr. Darcy and Bronte’s Mr. Rochester and Heathcliff!

So, what exactly are we, the modern women, trying to convey? That we still dream of being enslaved by a dark, handsome man; as long as he is a billionaire who whisks us off on a helicopter for a date? That we would in fact want the men in our lives to track our phone records and buy the companies that we work for, all in the name of concern? And on the very same day, tie us up and then torture us with numerous shudder-worthy tools for their pleasure? If every boy who was sexually abused grew up to be dominating stalkers who owned multinational companies, I imagine, India would be the richest country in the world! And of course the fact that Indian women would all be bearing marks of sexual abuse is of no consequence to anyone!

Who would have thought that the constipated glittery vampires with a penchant for abstinence would serve as the foundation on which Mrs. James (mother of two) would build her “red room of pain”?

This, in my eyes, marks the tragic demise of literature and feminism. May they rest in peace....!!!