On Morality

Originally published in Dawn, May 2008

According to research in the USA that I read some months ago, when the nation is going through a period of uncertainty, the hemlines of the nation’s skirts reflect this. The greater the uncertainty, the higher the hemlines. If there is a similar correlation between national uncertainty and the length of ladies’ shalwaars in our fair nation, then it would appear that we are in the brink of a national crisis.

I was recently present at a recruitment fair at a major national business school and can honestly say, hand on heart, that I have never seen so many ankles in one place in my life. Or calves either, come to think of it. As I stood contemplating this fetlock fetishists’ dream, I could not help but wonder: since when have Capri pants become acceptable attire for a job interview? Admittedly it was many moons ago that I was preparing for a graduate interview, but the guidelines at the time were to dress well but conservatively. It seems that the definition of conservative dress has changed considerably in the past few years.

And it appears that I am not the only one not wholly in touch with the sentiments of Generation insert-whatever-letter-is-fashionable-at-the-moment. A prominent local financial institution has recently issued a circular specifying in excruciating detail what modes of dress are appropriate for a workplace as lofty as theirs. And I will not go into the inherent contradiction between ankle-baring being perfectly acceptable for men and not for women in their workplace.

It appears then, that propriety and morality are not only interlinked but also not always congruent. Sometimes, what may be perfectly proper, such as a television actress dressing in beachwear when on a beach holiday, is considered immoral by certain sections of society, while at other times behaviour that may be morally acceptable could be considered improper in a given position, such as correcting the factual errors in Auntiji’s descriptions of the achievements of her children during a family dinner party.

One example of this dichotomy that I experienced was at a friend’s wedding in the capital city of our fair nation. There were 4 of us friends from university, who had planted themselves in a corner of the tent after dinner, waiting for the festivities of the mehndi to continue. There we sat, minding our own business, when one of the ladies seated to our right asked us to move away and find alternative seating. Apparently their menfolk considered it morally repugnant to have strange men sitting within striking distance of their women.

As these same women later got up to perform their prepared choreographed dance routines, I could not help but wonder that having strange men sit a few feet away was morally unacceptable to them, and yet dance moves that reminded one of Janet Jackson at her wardrobe-malfunctioning best for all to see was not.

And that, when it boils down to it, is the case with all questions of morality. Not only do measures of morality differ widely from person to person, but they also have umpteen shades of grey for each individual. Or perhaps it is a case of there being one set of rules for oneself, and another for everyone else. After all, if I choose to wear beachwear when going for a swim, everyone knows it is because it is the only sensible thing to do. But if a latter-day starlet were to do the same, it is obviously because she is no better than she is.

I do firmly believe though, that morality not only begins at home but also should stay there. My moral code is inevitably going to be different from pretty much everyone else, so really the only person who it can apply on is myself. So while I may think that ankle-baring trousers are not appropriate business attire and keep that in mind when evaluating a potential hiree, I am not about to take a big stick and start ankle-crackery whenever I see any.

However some things we can all agree on are just plain wrong. And I witnessed one such thing just last evening. On my way back home, I was caught in the inevitable gridlock that occurs when a traffic signal switches off due to a power cut, resulting in all vehicles choosing to move forward simultaneously and end up in a great coming together at the crossroads, and the accompanying wailing (of horns) and gnashing of bumpers. Into this breach strode, like an angel sent by Providence, a traffic policeman, miraculously still on duty at that late hour.

As he untangled the traffic, I turned to get a better look at this angel of mercy. And what I saw has scarred me perhaps for ever. The traffic policeman was devoid off all facial hair whatsoever! I have never before seen a moustachio-less traffic copper, and pray to God that I never do again. It was a near-obscene sight; it was as if the traffic was being directed by the emperor in his new clothes.

So for the sake of public decency I implore all traffic policemen, on the off chance that any are reading this due to their morning paratha being wrapped in it, to please desist from allowing a razor anywhere near their whiskers. For is traffic policemen’s moustaches start to shrink and disappear, surely the moral fabric of society is not far behind.