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Example research essay topic: Discussing Sex In Indian Culture - 1,223 words

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... baring their faces in the company of men. My married female cousins were running around sharp-tongued and confident. Even though the wedding was "arranged, " the groom and bride had already met; they'd even seen a film together before consenting to the marriage. And my cousin's single guy friends were all instant messaging their "girls" on their shiny Nokia's throughout the day, which happened to be Valentine's.

I reveled in the gossipy tone of the groom's friends so different from the uptight peers of my youth. "I've got five girlfriends, " boasted a twenty-five year old from the 100, 000 -strong town of Kishangarh. "We go for a ride on my motorcycle sometimes. We even kiss!" Others admitted they flirted with American girls in chat rooms at the Internet cafes that have sprung up all over this town deep in the Hindu heartfelt. "I have three girls, one in New York, another in Virginia, and a third in the Czech Republic, " confessed the owner of the local cafe, where web access costs a dollar an hour. "One of them is planning to visit soon. " The crisp, cool night of the actual ceremony, I went on the Bharat, the traditional Indian marriage procession, where the groom's side travels to the bride's house. On the way, an old-school Rajasthani wedding marching band played their trumpets; later, loudspeakers blared Hindi music and youngsters including the unmarried women did the bhangra, an Indian folk dance, before the crowd. The journey was intense, fueled, I suspect, by bhang, a concoction of hashish and milk last. People were sweating and gyrating like club kids on Ecstasy. There was something about the crowd, the charged energy, the narrow streets, the people peering out from their balconies, the beat of the cow's hide drums, and the heat I danced as I never had before.

And with so many men. "This is all the influence of Hindi films, " complained the older men from the sidelines, all dressed in their long, loose, button less kurta's. "Weddings aren't about the ritual anymore, no one cares. " My elder cousins, all married, also grumbled over dinner. "Women aren't the way they used to be, " said a relative who's on his second marriage (after his first wife committed suicide). "They don't massage your feet at night. Now it's psychological warfare, not like it used to be in our father's time. " His friend shook his turbaned head: "It's all because of these beauty contests. They " re losing their heads. " He waved his finger. "I tell you, all this beauty contest stuff is the work of multinationals, they " re trying to destroy our culture. " I had spent my youth feeling repressed and put-down. But for the first time in my life, I realized how good Indian men have had it for centuries. As long as they had a decent job and an upright family, by the time they came of age they were assured an attractive, younger bride who'd spend the rest of her life worshipping them. It didn't matter if they hit her, ignored her most times, worked her to death, or forced her to bear any number of children.

She was theirs for life. They didn't have to waste years looking for a potential mate in dark bars, doubting whether their girlfriend really loved them, or worrying about their wife leaving them for another man. They could focus their energies on work and card games with their friends, and then look forward to a coconut oil massage in the evening from their loyal wife. Any breaks in tradition, any exceptions to the rule, threaten to dismantle the security of Indian marriage. No wonder some of the men are nervous.

After the wedding, I drove to Jaipur, hopped a plane to Goa, and ended up in Bangalore. Considering my revelations in Rajasthan, the growing decadence I found in these bustling cities was no surprise. Valentine's Day had been hyped like never before. Discos were packed, restaurants had special offers. Instead of a quiet day for lovers, like it is in the West, Valentine's Day in India had turned into a Mardi Gras festival complete with dancing in the streets.

The notorious reactionary fundamentalists, Hindu Shiv Sena, had even gone about destroying shops and restaurants celebrating Valentine's Day in Bombay, claiming it "went against Indian culture. " The desperate desire for hedonism, the broadsides from conservative quarters and the general dizziness about the growing multinational presence all reminded me of Eastern Europe (as did the proliferation of McDonald's, Pizza Huts and KFCs). But unlike Russia and Poland whose relatively young cultures were systemically eroded by half a century of Communism India, with its 5, 000 -year-old continuous cultural tradition, will probably put up quite a fight against any ideological revolution. Swimming pools, even in mod cities like Bangalore, have separate hours for women. Most single people I met didn't have steady girlfriends. Casual sex, though titillating to most, is frowned upon. Girls in mini-skirts are a rare breed.

More than eighty percent of marriages are arranged. And while sex is discussed more openly now, gays and transgendered people are on the fringe. Still, the raffish club culture was bubbling beneath the surface. Some critics might argue that this shiny new lifestyle is no better than the repression that came before that it is shallow, grotesquely empty.

But to me, it was thrilling. In Bangalore, I went clubbing with my sister and her husband, both doctors who returned home after spending eight years in the States. "DJs, Vj's and fashion designers are all the rage now, " said my sister over the acid jazz. "Doctors are considered boring. " My brother-in-law said more and more marriages are falling apart because of adultery. "It's probably better, " he said. "Most of those marriages were pretty empty anyway. " The women dancing around us wore halter tops and tight pants, their hair Wella-conditioned and their backs bared. Drinks were expensive, five dollars for a beer. I could have been in a club anywhere in the world. I chatted up a sultry, Indian woman with a fake tattoo on her arm, and a sleeveless T-shirt with Dolce & Gabbana emblazoned across it.

She said she wanted to be a model and work in Paris or Milan. "My parents understand I don't want to grow up like them, just have an arranged marriage and settle down with some engineer or doctor, " she said. We seemed to be "connecting" (or at least I was) when the barman announced last call. It was only midnight. She had to get back to her parents. She was just nineteen. I didn't get laid in India this time either.

And I didn't care. For the first time in the thirteen years since I left India, I came to empathize with that vast, ancient nation again. Its confusion, its dizzying desire for experimentation and sexual freedom, struck a chord within me. The onslaught of the West is forcing India to stare its traditions in the face and reevaluate them. India is realizing anew the dictates of the Vedas: There is no nature without illusion, there is no power without nature, and there is no illusion without power. Life and love are too illusory to take things very seriously.


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Research essay sample on Discussing Sex In Indian Culture

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