Comment

Ever since Sreesanth blubbered like a baby on TV, I have been perplexed by the idea of men crying. What does it mean? Since when did it become okay for them to let it all hang out and where will it end?

Of course, the phenomenon of boys having a good old honk is not a new one: that old Haryanvi war horse, Kapil, brought overactive male lachrymose glands in to our drawing rooms on a TV talk show a few years ago; perpetually harried Lok Sabha speaker Somanth Chatterjee, has been reduced to tears at least a couple of times by the antics of his rowdy House and who can forget that classic Clintonesque post- Monica moment, when the old geezer managed to squeeze a few wet ones from his shifty eyes? What impact did the display of vulnerability by such alpha men have on our collective psyche? Did we love them more? Respect them less? Wish they left the weeping to women?

According to statistics women cry 64 times a year and men 17. Women, we are constantly told, cry at the drop of a hat: when they’re happy, sad, orgasmic, lactating, nurturing, creating, writing lethal office memos — and in smarmy saas bahu serials.

But in what situations do men cry those 17 times a year? If one concedes a couple of Manchester United defeats, a few Sachin out-at-the-creases, a handful of tooth extractions and pulled muscles and missed shots at tennis, that still leaves at least another 10 occasions that warrant male bawl-outs. What these could be boggles me. A Karan Johar movie? The promotion of an office rival? A wipe out at the Sensex? The sight of the new BMW Five Series engine? Really bad sex?

Whatever the reason, men are doing itand increasingly in public. Michael Jordan did it when he won the NBA in 1996. David Beckham cried when he gave up his role of captain after being kicked out of the 2006 World Cup. Tiger Woods brought on the waterworks when he won the British Open and realised that it was the first big win after his father’s succumbing to prostate cancer the year before.

And even though I cannot pinpoint the exact time and place, Pandit Nehru appeared to be a secret sobber, whether in rage on the Chinese betrayal or in despair on the Kashmir situation, his tears seemed always on the brink of release.

Here’s my take on all this male breast-beating and blubbering: a couple of dignified snivels, a few well-timed whimpers, are not only acceptable but a passport to a New Age persona. It’s okay to cry when your dog dies, your marriage breaks or a friend moves away. But a full blown, shoulder-shuddering, body-heaving blubber session, is best attempted out at sea or better still in the Sahara. Women still like their men to be strong silent types and other men certainly won’t lend you their hankies if you want to honk into them, unless you’ve got a very good reason or you can blame it on the alcohol.

The trick for men is to weep while at the same time conveying strength; in a simple equation, tears plus power equals nobility. Thus a Manmohan Singh crying in frustration over the stymieing of the nuclear deal with America does not come across as a wimp but as someone with his eye on the big picture. Similarly, a few well-timed wet ones from Prince Charles on the occasion of the death of Princess Di would have done him more good than all his spin doctors.

And of course, if Chidambaram wept publicly over inflation, decelerated growth and food prices, it might just reverse the Congress’s fortunes in the coming elections.The public has grappled the crying man to its bosom. But it draws the line somewhere: a bullyboy cricketer who gets his comeuppance and then blubbers inconsolably — is still a crying shame.

Email: s_malavika@dnaindia.net