Review: Madam, Give Me My Sex by R Raj Rao

Intent on baiting the reader’s politically correct notions on a variety of topics, Madam, Give Me My Sex is satire in its most potent form

300pp, ₹399; Bloomsbury

Contrary to popular belief, whacking the ‘funny bone’ does not produce laughter. It is extremely painful. That tingling sensation that comes from hitting your elbow is caused due to the compression of the ulnar nerve against the humerus. It is perhaps no coincidence that the ulnar nerve, the longest unprotected nerve in the human body, runs around the humerus, AKA the ‘funny bone’. And so it is that when truth is weaponized through humour, the sting of satire, much like the scorpion’s bite causes blinding pain, ideological paralysis and emotional agitation.

Madam, Give Me My Sex is satire in its most potent form, an approximation of the unstated truth. It is provocative, beguiling and will bait your inner politically correct notions on a variety of topics. Rao’s characters are fresh, unabashed about getting fresh, aren’t reserved about reservation, and are in a way the most honest, no-filter versions of themselves. His weapon of choice is insightful wordplay through double-entendres, puns and innuendo – he presents humour that is distinctly Indian. In particular, these two instances: the hubris of professors who assumed north easterners to be international students; and the distraction caused to the students of the English department of the Oxford of the East University on reading essays by Helen Tiffin. Such a name invariably invokes their two prime motivations: lust (for Helen the Bollywood dancer, not Helen of Troy) and hunger.

In this ostensibly prestigious English department in Pune, the keeper of its legacy, HOD Prof Tiwari, is on a rather noble mission of making his department the best in the country. This mission keeps getting thwarted by the policies of the overbearing state education department. Adding to Tiwari’s troubles are an uncooperative, scheming, hostile and quarrelsome staff with which he must make do , and student unions that are perpetually itching to go on strikes. He must front the charges and accusations of corruption and sexual exploitation levelled by foreign students; accusations of patriarchy and misogyny levelled by the director of the Women’s Studies Centre; a gay professor becoming a victim of homophobia; and a bored, overinvested press and media squad that is determined to sensationalize each mistake he might make.

The author, an academic, turns the book into a series of insider jokes – each well researched and true to its setting, including the professors who ask lengthy questions to showcase their own knowledge. Rao’s fictional world is so immediately reminiscent of the reality that one wonders at the absurd nature of academic bureaucracy and a state of affairs too convoluted to have been made up. Each page, each character carries a fresh predilection, and each predilection carries within it a biting commentary on our times. Mrs D’Costa tells her husband that their ancestors shouldn’t have converted to Christianity, that if they had only stuck to their ‘lower’ castes, she would have had a much better chance at advancing in her career. The author treats the trivial with such care; at no point does regular, everyday banter not carry with it the risk of unemployment, public humiliation and/or exposure. Rao is adept at presenting the difficult truths that many writers avoid. This is evident in the episode about Prof Ankit Jadhav’s flat, which shows how individuals are trapped within their casteist labels by the very structures that were supposed to free them.

R Raj Rao (Courtesy the publisher)

The only irksome quality in the book is the explanations for wordplay. The reader assumes the author has done this for an audience that wouldn’t be conversant with certain references. For those that are, it gets in the way. The author also gets a bit overzealous with some of his puns, but since he is channelling college students, this is to be expected. ‘Farts Faculty Building’ is a personal favourite.

Madam, Give Me My Sex is a lovely demonstration of a centuries-old Indian custom – when an accident occurs on a road, everybody throngs around the victim. The surrounding crowd, which has nothing to do with the incident, escalates the matter and fights break out. Unfortunately, by the time the police do show up, nobody can remember why or how it all began.

There are many things that make this a fascinating book. The Indian reader will find the characters extremely relatable, and the accidents are packed with familiar irony. There is too much opportunism for this story to have taken place in any other country. If not for these reasons, read this book for one of its characters, Dr VD Marzban – his flurry of zingers, his irreverence and his uncanny ability to always find something and someone to gripe about. This reviewer hopes Rao will write more in this vein. If we can’t fix what’s broken, at least we could use the laughs.

Percy Bharucha is an independent writer and illustrator with two biweekly comics, The Adult Manual and Cats Over Coffee. Instagram: @percybharucha