Getting into the mind of the moral police

The curious workings of the minds of the moral police.

hidden April 18, 2013 16:49:18 IST
Getting into the mind of the moral police

by Smarika Kumar, HelterSkelter.in

Bodies are a very public affair, and one ought to be mindful of that. Such were Vijayan Kumaran’s thoughts as he dressed in his inspector uniform and buttoned his shirt.

Vijayan Kumaran was an inspector with the moral police — which is to say that he inspected citizens morally so that he could identify the right ones to police. And when one is in an important position of that sort, one has to be rather careful about how one dresses.

As he drove towards his nighttime beat, Vijayan Kumaran’s head expounded further upon the nature of bodies. It is a sordid affair, the body. Apart from being careful about what it dresses in, one needs to constantly monitor where the body goes, what company the body is seen in, and when the body can appear in public places.

Of course, the exact guidelines for this sort of stuff depend largely upon whose body one has. If one has a man’s body, for example, it does not matter if the body is sighted in public after midnight. But if one has a woman’s body, manifesting it on a road after dark would certainly be inviting trouble, and nobody but the woman herself would be responsible. Not to say there are no perils of having a man’s body.

It would be appalling, for instance, to be discovered wearing fashionable clothes and communicating politely to women if one had a man’s body! Or to have a man’s body but a face without a thick moustache! Who knows what people would take one to be then! Some queer arse bandit, maybe! Oh, the sheer horror!

Getting into the mind of the moral policeNot that Vijayan Kumaran had never been visited by the desire to shave the growth above his upper lip or to talk to girls with a smile instead of a leer. Or to stroke SS Maleshkaran’s bottom if it came to that. S S Maleshkaran was a good looking chap with a tight bottom and a magnificent moustache.

Exactly like a man’s body should be, Kumaran fondly thought. But as has been noted earlier, Kumaran was an inspector with the moral police and he had a reputation to maintain. It is easy to give into temptation but one does not just think things like these. There are certain rules that nature has made for humans. Rules prescribing the set of thoughts and actions that each body is allowed: The Rules of Bodies. And flouting The Rules is certainly not our culture.

This, Vijayan Kumaran knew well. Why, good people suffer to uphold this culture! People like Kumaran himself, it might as well be said. And there is glory in that suffering—why, even a country like America is becoming aware of the depth and grandeur of our culture! High time we ourselves started respecting things white people say is worthy of respect.

As he was thinking these thoughts, Vijayan Kumaran became aware of a commotion up ahead on the road. A bunch of livid-looking women seemed to be having an altercation with a couple of men. Kumaran stepped out of his vehicle to ascertain what the fuss was all about.

One of the ladies from the livid-looking group had spotted Kumaran, and was now moving towards him. Then he saw that she was not a lady. Her dress ended above her knees, and no woman’s body dressed like that can be called a lady. But it was too late to do anything, for she was talking to him now.

“Please sir! We need your help!” she was saying frantically. A dress, and not a sari, it additionally occurred to Kumaran as he surveyed her from bottom to top. Certainly not our culture, he decided.

“We were getting out of the pub here when one of my friends noticed this creep filming us on his phone…” she continued, pointing at one of the men there. “Pub” was about all Kumaran heard.

Clubs are family places, but pubs are the dens of vice, he recalled something he had heard on an enthusiastic news channel a few days earlier. Women sometimes even dance in pubs (!), the channel had reported. The utter immorality of it all!

“… And since we confronted him about it, he evades questions about filming us and refuses to hand over his phone. We want to ensure that the videos are deleted. You've got to help us!” she finished.

Kumaran checked his watch. Five minutes past eleven. Hmmm, what was a woman’s body doing in the street at this late hour of the night? … Wait! What had a woman’s body been doing in the den of vice before?!

Vijayan Kumaran realised that he had found the appropriate meat to police. Taking in a deep breath, he launched. “Why’re you going to pubs and drinking so late in night?! Do you have any sense?! And then, madam, you say why are women getting raped? … If women are getting completely drunk and walk streets naked in dark, tell me, will they not be getting raped?! We are trying to protect women, but whores like you are bringing all this trouble upon yourself only!”

“Motherfucker,” the girl said to his face. Then realising that little could be accomplished by this conversation, she walked away.
“… And women certainly do no swearing in our culture!” he screamed after her. “You are breaking The Rules of Bodies! A male person is filming you? Hah, you are getting away easy now, but be careful later!”

              xxxxx

Later that night, in full deference to his man’s body, Vijayan Kumaran dutifully screwed his wife, for The Rules of Bodies stipulate that the man’s body is an opportunist which desperately looks to screw a woman’s body upon every remote chance it gets.

In a heaven below, Lucifer sniggered as he inspected the gustily defended cage of a culture that Kumaran believed to be the culture. As he lay in the darkness, Vijayan Kumaran’s thoughts soon drifted to S S Maleshkaran’s bum. This made him smile, but he soon checked himself in case someone was watching.

 

This article was originally published in Helter Skelter Magazine

 

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