Let’s talk about sex!

For some reason, every time I take a look at the front page of the newspaper I am part of, I see a headline that screams sex. It is not that we publish an erotica section, or that we allow smutty language, or even that we provide extracts from the Kama Sutra from the edification of our readers, but the simple fact that so much about life today seems to talk about - if not hinge on – sex. Today it was something about Viagra helping people get over jet lag. Tomorrow it will be something on something else connected to the fascinating topic of sex…and the person most fascinated by it seems to be the one who selects these stories for publication.

But the battle of sex has been going on in Mumbai – and all over India – for a while now. The debate has raged for months over the matter of sex education, with various communities protesting about who should say what to whom and how the delicate matter should or should not be approached. According to most, teaching youngsters about sex will encourage them to not just experiment with it, but also indulge in it, which, the elders of most communities protest, will be disastrous.

What surprises me is the number of younger people who have been objecting to sex education in school - when it ideally should be made part of the curriculum. It is, in fact, then that the young people are insatiably curious, but not too well informed about consequences and results. So unless they are taught about the subject and how to deal with it and its various ramifications, from sexual abuse to birth control, there is a high likelihood of problems arising – unwanted pregnancy, disease or psychological trauma.

But why sex at all? I agree that it is necessary and if it did not happen, none of us would exist. But there is a certain limit to, at least, social behaviour where that topic is concerned. And most men do not even see that limit, let alone understand it – they are obsessed with sex, I find. Their minds wander in that direction no matter what the context may be. Talk about mashed potatoes, they think about sex. Talk about shopping, they think about sex. Talk about the state of the nation, they think about sex. Talk even about the way the sky looks just before a thunderstorm and somehow, via some convoluted mental route, they will think about sex. The brain cell that they own seems to be firmly located in their gonads and anything and everything will be directed thataways.

And I found the best way to deal with it is not mine, though mine does the trick when I want it to. I look blankly at men when they veer the conversation into a lane that ends in some chapter of the aforementioned Kama Sutra and sometimes even snub them with the verbal or psychological equivalent of a very cold shower. But a better way, a friend vouches for, is the aggressive tactic. Face them off, she advises; talk back when they start talking. And if you talk of sex rather better than they can, they get so intimidated that their thoughts suddenly do a U-turn and settle on mundane matters such as how to make really good mashed potatoes and where to buy the best shoes that were ever created in red patent leather.

I must try that some day, the next time a man does his thing with sex. Until then, my technique works fine for me. And there are always newspaper headlines to fuel the imagination.