Why the schoolgirl fetish in Guru Randhawa’s Azul is problematic

Wrapping it up in glossy beats and slick pop, extremely accessible and attractive, the song goes on to compare the schoolgirl’s unique charm to the quick effect of Don Julio and how she is like a shot of tequila that doesn’t let you sit still. Henessay also finds a mention, where she commands its attention like the French cognac. Azul, Don Julio, and Henessay are all premium liquor brands. Randhawa has put the two ideas in the same box and has treated the desire for a schoolgirl as lavish, sumptuous and ambitious. That sexualising a minor and aspiration for these liquor brands go hand in hand, promoting a strange and problematic predatory attitude.

The girl gets into the cameraman’s fantasy and begins to dance and behave like an adult, liking the adulation and enjoying it because, of course, this is the guy’s fantasy. The explanation offered by some that the model who is playing the role is an adult, misses the point completely, as it is the role that this actor is playing, the costume, the suggestiveness and presentation which is the context in terms of consumption.

In a society fighting gender-based violence, especially for minor girls, daily, this kind of vulturous narrative in popular culture is negligent and does not have Randhawa carry the most basic responsibility as an artiste. Randhawa is from a country where, according to a study conducted by the Ministry of Women and Child Development in 2007, which interviewed 1,25,000 children in 13 Indian states, the prevalence of all forms of child abuse is extremely high, with sexual abuse being there in the lives of 50 per cent of the country’s children. How do these songs come about when one is still not done discussing or sorting the complicated case of American financier and child sex offender Jefferey Epstein, who victimised hundreds of teenage girls?

The imagery in Azul may be a reminder of Britney Spears’ Baby One More Time in 1998, with those pigtails and flirtatious choreography that also came with its problem of using the sexualised schoolgirl imagery for profit, but it still had a teenager performing desire and the song, perhaps, was about a guy from school. The gaze from an adult within Azul magnifies the issue manifold.

Also, none of this is by chance. Randhawa and his marketing and brand guys know what they are upto. To invoke the glamour of high-end liquor, an indicator of rich, adult extravagance and using a young girl’s imagery in a short school skirt and low socks for a grown guy’s fantasy and presenting it all to be viewed by the audience, is completely ignoring and belittling the concept of abuse that minors face in this country. It’s jarring. Even dangerous.

Recently, Randhawa was also summoned for his song “Sirra” after a complaint was filed against him for allegedly objectionable lyrics. The line is Oh jatta de aa kaake balliye… jammeya nu gurti ch mili afeem hai… (We are the sons of Jats. We got opium as our first food when we were born). The complainant, an advocate, called the lyrics derogatory as the practice of Gurti in Sikh tradition “is deeply emotional and associated with respect and purity,” according to Samrala-based complainant’s advocate Gurbir Singh Dhillon. The hearing is on September 2.

While Punjabi music is globally India’s most wonderful and fun export and has given voice to the diaspora, the objectification of women, hypermasculinity and glorification of violence remain its core issues. Randhwa’s song is an addition to the latter and is somewhat worse as it carries the harmful narrative of sexualising a schoolgirl. While this song requires an immediate solution from the producers and Randhawa, or eventually a court, Punjabi music artists and producers also need to look deeper within, make a shift, and evolve into giving us celebrations as well as stories that come with some responsibility in place and letting go of the typical regressive patterns.