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Example research essay topic: Discussing Sex In Indian Culture - 1,209 words

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I've never had sex in India, the country where I was born and spent most of my first eighteen years. I've had impatient kisses in the shadows of whale-backed ambassador cars, and I've necked in the bucket seats of crowded movie theaters in Hyderabad, the city in southern India where I was born. But that was a long time ago, when I was young and nave and India was a conservative, closed nation, where "love marriage" was a dirty term and riotous Valentine's Day celebrations were still a generation away. My high school sweetheart and I were the only lovers in our high school of 2, 000 students, save for one other couple: her best friend, a busty Telugu rebel named Nirupama, and Same Khan, her handsome, brooding Muslim with green eyes, an Enfield motorcycle and a pocket knife. So scandalous was their affair in mid- 80 s Hyderabad, that Nirupama was banished to her grandparents' in neighboring Tamil Nadu so that she might come to her senses. For months her amore rode all night to rendezvous with her for a few hours.

When those visits were curtailed, I heard she tried to commit suicide. My girlfriend's family was less traditional: they had lived in Papua New Guinea, where she kissed boys under the mistletoe at "X-mas" time. I, too, was more progressive, born of a mixed marriage, my mother a relatively liberal Syrian American. We would steal quick embraces in her tiny, doodles bedroom, her grandparents constantly peeking in on us. Once we were caught fondling each other on the roof of her apartment complex by a neighbor.

He hauled us into his living room, threatening exposure and subsequent censure unless we listened quietly to his diatribe on morals and bowed our heads in shame for the sins we had just committed. When I left India at eighteen to study at Caltech in Pasadena, California, I imagined I had lifted the prudish veil of my native land and could now indulge in guilt-free, sensuous sex with gorgeous blondes on the hot and sinful shores of the West. I was still a nave virgin after all, and teen pop culture had led me, like all the rest of my classmates, to believe that America was a land of vice and decadence, where sex was for the asking. But, like Eastern Europeans who learned quickly that fully stocked shops don't necessarily bring about a consumerist nirvana, I was soon shorn of my illusions. While there was plenty of sex around, cool was a currency I didn't possess. To most girls, I was just a nerdy Indian studying Physics.

So, I changed. I adapted, acclimated, grew my hair out, learned the lingo, transferred to Columbia and finally lost my virginity. But still, a part of me an idealistic, stubborn side kept looking for that erotic utopia I had dreamed about as a kid. While most of my Indian friends who had also moved to America finally gave up and wrote home, asking their parents to find them a "nice girl" through an arranged marriage, I kept searching, like Herman Hesse's Siddhartha. My search led me to Prague, and then later to the venial Moscow of the ' 90 s, where sex really was there for the asking. I returned to India occasionally, mainly for short visits to see my parents and attend family weddings.

They were frustrating holidays, always sexless. Desperate to unveil India's hypocrisy, I traveled to the erotic temples at Khajuraho with a cousin from New York, a watermarked Kama Sutra paperback in my satchel. But even there, with its stone walls teeming with lascivious sculptures of women participating in wild orgies with horses and maidservants, I couldn't even register an echo of that past hedonism. There was nothing for me there: just a sad holy man with a pot belly who tried to seduce my cousin and a few stoned Israelites, fresh from the army, who hated the local beer.

Since Indian culture had become so pre-programmed marriages arranged, astrological charts consulted for major decisions there was no room for slip-ups, whims or random acts of rashness. There was no choice or freedom in your sexual and emotional partnerships. I stopped going back for a while. I used sex as a weapon to condemn the land of my childhood, to distance myself from it. Sex became a spontaneous act, often catalyzed by alcohol and other substances.

I became more estranged from my parents, not returning for five years at a time. And I began to wonder, Can you miss a country you " ve never had sex in? Several years have passed since then. I've changed, become "tamer" as my sister claims, more relaxed. Now in my early thirties, sex just isn't as important as it was in my twenties, when I kept a list of the 100 -plus women I'd slept with.

Spending two years in the Baltics where there's a surfeit of beautiful, fair-haired women has mellowed me and watered down my teenage obsession with blondes. So when I returned home for a family wedding this last February, I approached my country with fresh eyes. Gone was the prejudice, the inflexible ideological stance. I found the Indian women, with their large, dark, oval eyes, colorful clothes and affected modesty, quite alluring. I loved their accents and their natural grace, the straight line of their thin backs as they passed in their saris and chapels, their bare almond-colored waists. But the difference I experienced wasn't just a matter of my personal preferences softening: India has changed, too.

I could discuss the nascent clubbing culture in the big cities, the rash of pubs in Bangalore, the bright discos of Bombay and Calcutta, the abundance of adult channels, the recent glut of fashion magazines, and the hype over the Indian beauties winning international beauty pageants. But something more fundamental is going on in one of the world's oldest civilizations. Simply put, sex has come of age again, after centuries of repression. The old ideology of Hinduism has lost its clothes. Indians have begun to realize for the first time in their history, perhaps that they only live once. Reincarnation, the kernel of Hinduism, which justified the rigid caste system and the endless suffering of human existence, has lost its sheen.

So much has happened in this last giddy century that even village Indians, once isolated, can't imagine the world staying the same five hundred years from now and have little desire to be reborn a Brahmin after three life cycles. They " re witnessing the first economic boom since Independence; with an improved standard of living, increased mechanization and a more consumerist culture, Indians want to enjoy themselves a little. The mask of seriousness has begun to slip slightly. And Indian women, taking advantage of the changes and the growing insecurity of their men, are beginning to assert themselves: love marriages are becoming more common and, with the traditional arranged marriages, women are starting to refuse eligible suitors. When I attended my cousin's traditional wedding, a three-day event in remote Rajasthan, one of the most conservative states of India, these changes were palpable. The Marwari women, famed for their unsaying devotion and modesty, had stopped wearing the purdah, started...


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