Of Monsters and Men

Whenever I hear of problematic behaviour displayed by a famous or semi-famous person, I bookmark it somewhere in my head. But such is the range and variety of problematic behaviour that it is impossible to keep track of every monster and the details of their repellent behaviour. So in a lot of cases, I make a face when I hear a particular name but cannot immediately recall why.

When Sacred Games was released, I was highly unimpressed (primarily because Saif Ali Khan). I wasn’t planning on watching it. Now, for most people, the big draw was Nawazuddin Siddiqui, whom I had previously seen only in Kahaani. And sure, he displayed charisma in that movie, but it wasn’t enough to cancel out the big, boring presence of Saif Ali Khan.

And then a friend of mine started talking about Sacred Games while we were out for lunch.

I made a face.

But Nawazuddin Siddiqui, he said. I love that guy. I know twisted, fucked up characters are his forte, but I love that guy.

I made a face.

And then I tried to recall what it was I’d read about him. Somewhere, something that was generally not deemed important enough because it was just a bunch of feminazis shrieking about someone who’s really cool. I don’t remember if I brought it up at lunch that day – often I don’t, because I don’t like to be drawn into an argument without having all the facts at my fingertips.

It’s based on this book by Vikram Chandra, he said. I had to confess that I had no idea who that was. At this point in the conversation, I must have drifted a bit, because suddenly he was talking about Dawood Ibrahim and gangsters in Mumbai. Eventually, I gathered the confused impression that Vikram Chandra had previously written about Dawood, and that that was why he was given such an enormous advance for his novel, Sacred Games. I was also told that the book was a commercial failure, but the show was amazing and promising.

With these vague impressions did I sit down to watch Sacred Games a few days later, having temporarily tired of the shows I was already bingeing. At the outset, I was detached. And then, the show sucked me in. I was hooked… by revulsion.

The show was so bad I could scarcely believe it. Was this why it was being hyped so much? Because it’s so bad? Was I missing something?

I decided to keep watching for the only thing that had interested me in the show at all from the outset – Radhika Apte (also not initially sufficient to outweigh Messrs. Boring Boringson and Vaguely McCreepy). I watched all the way to the end, only to realize I’d been hoodwinking myself into thinking this was a one-season series. For all the suffering I put myself through, I didn’t even get the satisfaction of a completed story.

I argued about Sacred Games (and its decision to murder Radhika Apte and therefore my only reason for watching) with my friend, and then forgot all about it.

Until today, when I saw actress Niharika Singh's #MeToo testimony. Enjoying a highlighted role in the testimony is none other than Nawazuddin Siddiqui. Mr. Vaguely McCreepy had just become Creepy Creeperson Extraordinaire.

And I’m so mad at myself for failing to learn my lesson. For ignoring red flags over and over again, for forcing myself into the same arguments year after year, guy after guy.

How many times will I talk about why shows like Game of Thrones or Sacred Games come off as creepy because the people who write and film them ARE creepy? How many times will I talk about why it’s not okay to make rape jokes because (a) punching up vs. punching down; (b) they normalize rape culture; and (c) we don’t owe creepy rapists the freedom to listen to their favourite kinds of jokes? #deplatformNazis

How many times will I allow myself to get sucked into a problematic conversation, hoping I can say something that will change a monster’s mind?

And if you’re thinking #notallmen are monsters right now, let me stop you one last time. Let me get down into the trenches one last time to say this:

Giving cis men the benefit of the doubt is wrong.

A man yelling about how a woman is radicalized is already a problem. He’s already a monster, but he hasn’t done anything (that we know of) + (which we socially acknowledge to be a crime) + (YET!!)

And how do you know this?

Because he doesn’t care that a woman who is actually, literally speaking radical things in public has faced so much pain that even the thought of moderation is like a slap in her face.

Because he’s proud of not being “politically correct.” In other words, he’s already telling you that basic decency isn’t something he can be bothered with.

Because he has no problem with forcing you to relive or perform your pain for his benefit, so that he can be convinced. He could have saved you the ordeal by doing some reading on the internet, where other women (or even you yourself) have already relived or performed their pain for this exact purpose.

Because he says something incredibly dehumanizing about trans people.

Because he has already barely restrained himself from verbally assaulting you, or from using words like “bitch” or “cunt” to refer to you.

Because it’s funny that he accidentally traumatized you.

Because his first resort is to always blame the victim, no matter what the situation, no matter how cut and dried it is.

Because he’s condescending about anything you do.

Because he claims your emotional, or even your physical labour for free and gives you nothing (at best) in return.

Because he takes pride in being neglectful, or in successfully avoiding the “boyfriend traps” that women lay down for him.

Because he said “no homo” or some variation thereof.

Because every sop of kindness he gives you, or every time he acknowledges your existence is supposed to be some great feat on his part.  Because he’s a child that YOU’RE supposed to raise right. A child YOU’RE supposed to teach to do the right thing. Because you’re supposed to be proud when he finally understands a tiny sliver of what you’ve been trying to teach him.

Because he says things constantly that break your heart, or which feel like a gut punch. And because you have to hide your feelings and smile and tell him it’s alright. That he’s not a monster, not like those men out there.

Because if you fail to do that even once, he’ll tell you you’re too radicalized. That you hate him, that you hate men, that you’re generally just hateful and you’re taking it out on him.

That he doesn’t deserve this. That he’s a good person. That he knows he’s a good person.

He’s not.

But HOW do you know that?

I know it because I’m not fucking stupid.

I know it because I know how to read statistics.

I know it because every single time I’ve given a man a break, he’s gone on to do monstrous things.

I know it because every single time ANY WOMAN has ever given a man a break, he’s gone on to do monstrous things.

Because he murders the women in his life.

Because he rapes them.

Because he sexually assaults them.

Because he physically assaults them.

Because he emotionally abuses them to the point of mental breakdown.

Because he takes them for granted and lives a good, fat life on the backs of their lives.

Because the signs are ALL THERE, and they NEED to be read. They need to be read, and the monster needs to be slain. And that needs to happen before he does the thing, the horrible thing nobody can come back from. The thing that destroys the same lives he’s been taking so lightly all along.

Because you shouldn’t have to feel responsible for not seeing the monster, despite seeing the signs. Because you shouldn’t have to cry at night, feeling guilty about what he did to someone else.

Because, even so many years later, he still sleeps soundly through the same nights you spend crying.

Because nothing has changed. And why should it? After all, he never thought he needed to.