T HERE is apeculiar species of men I have encountered over the years - evolved, articulate, well-read, and perpetually on panel discussions (even if only within their own WhatsApp groups). These arethe ProgressiveMen. Capital P, capital M. They believe in equality.They advocate it. They declare it over dinner, overdrinks, over debates,and occasionally,overdishes - though not while doing them. Now,before I am accused of sweeping generalisations (because ProgressiveMenareverysensitiveaboutnuance), let me clarify -I havemet some genuinely wonderfulmen,who fall in the categoryofgood friends.But today it is not about them. Today is about theones who advocate women’s rights and women’s liberation openly and with much passion, but when it comes to putting all the talk in practice,all what has been said flies out of the window like a bird freed from acage.Recently, during asmall intimate get-together at home, the discussions turned towards this topic.The consensus is that we generally avoid topics that turnthe get together into battlefields.But this time over food and drinks the usual spirited discussions started with politics and theIran-US conflict and inevitably turned towards parenting and cholesterol levels. And suddenly,one of our guests -let’s call him Mr.Equality -arrived armed with opinions.

 

As I welcomed him and got up to pull up some cushions and made place for him and his wife, he scoffed, “Arrey Bhabhiji let it be.Noneedfor you to get up”. (Psst -Ihate to be called Bhabhiji by peers -it’sjust too formal in apack of back slapping friends). And within minutes, he firmly established how, in his home, he treats his wife as an equal.The question of equalitydidn’t come into play at all. Iwas the host, seated in aplace where it is easy for me to get up to arrange for things.“I disprove gender disparity,” he announced, leaning back comfortably.His attitude screamed just the opposite.I hate being judgemental about anyone for I believe in each to his own. But in agathering,if someoneis deliberate about stuffing his opinions down our throats, my shackles rise. His wife,seated quietly beside him, smiled. Notthe wide,proud smile of awoman basking in progressive partnership.No. This was atight, diplomatic smile.The kind that says,“Let’s just get through this evening without incident.”She had placed her hand on his arm, probably trying to rein him in. Mr. Equality continued, " In our house, we share everything. Absolutely everything.” At this point, Imade the fatal mistake of asking, “So, who cooked dinner yesterday night?” He laughed. “Oh, she did -she enjoys cooking!” Ah!The classic. The woman doesn’t do the work. Sheenjoys it. It is her hobby. Her passion. Hercalling.Muchlikehowhe enjoys…discussing equality.

 

This is not the first instance that had him pompously talk about equality.Earlier too,everytime Iand my friends and I have noticed how he tries to override her.When they’re hosting and someone praises the food, even before she can acknowledge it graciously,he is quick to say,“Yes, she’s very good.”As if he is the one who has fanned her talent for cooking, or taught her athing or two about cooking. We all know he can’t make a cup of tea to savehis life. He often comments about howmen must unlearn centuries of conditioning. And help the lady of the house as and when they can. “After all, we areequal partners.” Butwhen the doorbell rings, he glances at the wife,who quietly gets up to open it. And then the very condescending patting of her hand and acomment, “Sit yaar, you do too much”. If she did as he asked, who’d do the things that are required to be done when you have guests at home?

 

That day,asdessert was served, the conversation was about work-lifebalance.Mr.Equality spoke passionately about howwomen should pursue their careers without guilt. “I havegiven my wife afreehand, she has never been stopped from doing what she wants,” he declared. 'NEVER BEEN STOPPED FROM DOING.... This statement itself was loaded. Iglanced at her.She was calculating something in herhead-possibly the number of hours left beforeshe had to wake up and start the next day. “Whereis your workplace?” one of the guests who hadmet the pair for the first time,put forth this question. “Iused to work,”she said.“Now I manage the house.” “Bychoice, of course,” the husbandadded quickly. Of course! Whatafascinatingwordthiswordis-CHOICE. Do we, in our society,wheremen arethe head of the family,haveany other options other than paying heed to whatever the menfolk say? Icouldn’t help but think of another friend - adear one -whose husband often postslong, heartfelt messages about respecting women. Hissocialmediais ashrine to progressive thought.

 

On Women’s Day, his tribute was longer than most award acceptance speeches. But in real life?I am privy to the momentwhenhe askedherwhere hissocks were.Not if she had seen them. Notcould she help find them. No.Wherethey were?! Atad irritated, when she suggested he look for them himself, he said, “Why areyou getting so hyper? Ijust asked.”I have heard men declare with pride howthey never pack their own suit cases,how they never pick up their ownplate or help bring the groceries home.“It’s awoman’s job.” No help is forthcoming even whenthe woman is working -sometimes spending more time than him in the office,but rushing home to cook his dinner,even as he lounges on the sofa. And thereitis-the gap between preaching and practice.It is not always loud or dramatic. It is quiet. Subtle.Almost polite. It lives in everyday moments - in who gets up,who remembers, who adjusts,who apologises. As the party wound up and everyone was saying their good byes, he turned and asked her, “Did youtake the leftovers?" (That’s the practise we follow in our gatherings -the leftovers, if any, are distributed among all-wedon’twant towaste food) Shenodded. “Good,” he said.“I thought you had forgotten.” If he remembered, what was the harm in him picking up the dabba? Iwatched them leave- the ProgressiveMan andthe woman who makes his progress possible.And I wondered- perhaps the real test of equality isn’t in what is said when the room is full, but in what is done when no one is watching.

 

Like charity begins at home,feminism does too -and for equality to establish itself, it has to survive in one’s home. Until then,wewillcontinue tomeet thesemen. Well-meaning, well-spoken, wonderfully aware… and blissfully unaware. And we will smile. That same tight, diplomatic smile. After all, someone has to keep the peace. Formajority still believe that‘all MEN are created equal’-women are excluded.