As I began writing this piece, the membership of the Facebook Group titled “A Consortium of Pub-going, Loose and Forward Women”, which launched the Pink Chaddi campaign had touched 47,738. The deluge of pink underwear that filled quite a few cartons at the “collection centre” in Bangalore had turned into a trickle. The last few parcels of underwear delayed by the postal service, or just posted late.
Some of the parcels also contained messages addressed to the Pink Chaddi people. Mothers and daughters from Mangalore,
college students from Kolkata, (giggly?) schoolgirls from Delhi, saying that they stood by the freedom of choice of women and congratulating the campaign.
“Dear Pink Sena members” reads one of the letters,
“Hope the pink nappy, made especially for you, finds you in the pinkest of health”.
Says another, “Respected Ram Sena,
We Indian women have the sensibility to decide right and wrong, work, take care of our houses, slog our butts out and love our parents, Last but not the least, love our country — Jai Hind.”
And my favourite letter
“Dear Mr Muthalik,
This pink chaddi belongs to my two-year-old daughter. Although small in size, it’s probably still too big to cover your modesty. Happy Valentine’s Day, cheers.”
Asked what the pink chaddi symbolised, one of the chaddiwallahs said that the chaddi was taking a dig at the khaki chaddis that represent the saffron brigade. The chaddis were chosen as a symbol meant to offend the Ram Sene. Pink was chosen as a colour of frivolity and fun, to show that the Ram Sene should not be taken seriously. Kicked off by a group of people in Delhi on February 9 in response to the Mangalore pub attacks, the pink chaddis have become a metaphor that has tapped into public anger and disgust at the actions of Muthalik and co. The chaddi wallahs have brought satire back into the mainstream, and in a small way involved a large spectrum of Indians who otherwise do not engage with politics.
Friends and relatives who have never asked me about most protests I have been part of, were suddenly enquiring about the Pink Chaddis. Newspapers, magazines, websites and television channels were running stories about it. Amul was carrying hoardings saying “Pink Chaddi Yellow Buddy”. Everywhere I went, I could catch traces of conversation, with pink chaddis being mentioned.
The campaign has caught the Ram Sene red-faced, confused on how to react. Ram Sainiks initially said they would send back pink sarees (and a few beautiful ones have been sent across). They soon backtracked and said they would donate the underwear to
orphanages. Now, they claim they will publicly burn the panties. Muthalik has been quoted in the media as saying that the pink chaddi campaign was “a base tactic to shy away from the core issue of Indian culture”. Newspapers and television channels have carried images of the pretty pink parcels being opened in the Ram Sene office with much mirth and laughter all around. One counter-campaign on Facebook urged people to send pink condoms to the chaddiwallahs.
Meanwhile, with Muthalik and
co declaring that they would disrupt Valentine’s Day and forcibly marry
couples found together in public, there was increased pressure on the Karnataka government to take action against the Ram Sene. Ironically, in the run up to Valentine’s Day, the Karnataka home ministry said it was keeping “a close watch” on the campaign and that no group would be allowed to take the law into their own hands. On the eve of
Valentine’s Day, succumbing to pressure from the Centre and from civil society groups, the state government held over 100 persons,
including Muthalik, all over the state in preventive custody on charges of making inflammatory speeches.
On February 14, groups ranging from former dons Agni Sridhar and Muthappa Rai to individuals defending the “Right to Love”
occupied centre stage, covering Bangalore in pink and red. Sridhar’s group called the Karunada Sene and Rai’s organisation Jaya Karnataka promised lovers protection against the Ram Sene. Vattal Nagaraj perched in a Prema Vahini (vehicle of love), a horse-driven chariot that was ridden across the streets of Bangalore, promising protection to its lovers was a sight to behold. Bangaloreans who defied threats to “Pub Bharo” joined in the chorus that could be heard in many of its establishments. “Pyar ja dushman hai hai re, Pramod Muthalik hai hai re.”
The epicentre of the events leading up to February 14, Mangalore, remains a troubled spot. Reports of boys and girls being dragged out of buses and beaten, dragged out of their homes and being beaten, just because they dared mix with those of other religions,
continue to shock.
The recent death of a college student,
allegedly because she could not bear the shame of being humiliated publicly for daring to talk to a Muslim bus conductor, has only reinforced the feeling that the state administration has been reluctant to take firm action against those accused of these acts.
For queer activists in Bangalore battling an increasingly intolerant state, the Pink Chaddi campaign and the coalitions formed to battle moral policing had enormous significance. Besides, the Pink Chaddi campaign is raising issues that sexual minorities have being talking about for years — whether it is policing of sex workers, violence against
hijras, or harassment of homosexuals, the state’s actions come with the baggage of
morality. Sexual minorities are natural allies of the fight against moral policing, and to dismiss the Pink Chaddi campaign as heterosexist (as the last week’s piece in this page did), is to have missed the point entirely.
Whether it’s through sending pink chaddis or through confronting the Ram Sainiks on the streets of Bangalore, a large section of society has come out strongly against what the Ram Sene stands for. Whether this
energy can be translated into a sustained
effort to reverse the Talibanisation of Karnataka remains to be seen.
— The author is a legal researcher at the
Alternative Law Forum Bangalore,
and can be contacted at sid@altlawforum.org.
