Will shows the way to talk about sex

Or this reference to “neat’s tongue dried”, tucked between sundry allusions to dirty old men, cuckolds and more objectionable anatomy. Footnote: “Neat’s tongue was a delicacy, but because it was moist, it was regarded as not very wholesome… It became a symbol for an old man’s penis.”

Delightful double talk from the bard of bawd. But Elizabethan England, presumably, was a far cry from Incredible India, so when newspapers in Mumbai recently front-paged the footnotes not everyone was amused. After litterateurs confirmed that the interpretation was correct, some parents considered banning the author.

Other reactions were less extreme. Sure our kids need to be informed, sniffed the President of the Parent-Teachers’ United Forum Arundhati Chavan, but such explicit explanations will pollute young minds.

A rather strange view of a generation raised on the standard diet of television soaps and internet trash. Yet it’s a moot point — one that has us all, well, beating around the bush. Because sex is apparently not part of our Great Indian Culture.

But I’m afraid the real reason for our reticence is less lofty. As a nation, we are terrified that informing our kids about the facts of life will legitimise immorality, encourage licentious behaviour.

Nothing, of course, could be further from the truth. As far back as 1993, a survey of 35 sex education projects undertaken by WHO revealed that early sex education actually delays the start of sexual activity among young people. In fact, formal instruction makes it obvious that casual sex can lead to “plenty of hassles”, notes the US-based Programme For Appropriate Technology in Health (PATH).

In a review of 1050 articles on the subject, WHO also warned that “failure to provide appropriate and timely information gave rise to unwanted pregnancies and STDs.” India, of course, studiously ignored that warning until AIDS forced us to push aside our puritan purdah and confront our own sexuality. (After all, having safe sex presupposes that we are having sex.)

Unfortunately, it’s not just about AIDS. RAHI, a Delhi-based organization providing support to abused children, says 71 per cent of Indian children have been sexually abused by relatives or acquaintances at least once, 50 per cent of them by the age of twelve. And a recent nationwide survey estimates that 41 percent of young people have pre-marital sex, resulting in thousands of illegal abortions. Paradoxically, fertility specialists meet scores of married couples who are unable to conceive because they are too ignorant, too shy, to have proper intercourse!

The unsavoury truth is that Indian society is as carnal as any other. Our children need to know this, if only to protect themselves from its hazards. And parents and teachers are the best candidates for the job. Then why do we take on the mantle of moral guardians?

Simply because withholding sexual information from our kids gives us the power to limit their sexual behaviour. Dictating when, how and with whom our children can “morally” have sex with, even when they are consenting adults, is a form of social and personal control, both cornerstones of traditional Indian parenting. And because, deep down, we are scared stiff of admitting that we are sexual beings, lest it should open the door to social “depravity.” So we hide behind the smokescreen of morality, and persuade ourselves that sex education is only a necessary evil — a prophylactic in the war against AIDS.

Yet let’s not forget that sex is life itself, Nature’s way of ensuring its own continuity. And that, by expressing their sexuality, our kids are fulfilling their cosmic role. Sex education merely prepares our children for this, in a forthright and positive way. Surely that is reason enough to impart it?

farah.baria@expressindia.com