It was my uncle who first taught me the flying kiss. I was nine. We’d gone to see my father off at Santa Cruz airport. He was catching a flight to America. I blew some kisses at random aeroplanes. The flying kiss is pretty much out of fashion now. The occasional batsman still uses it to celebrate a century, using the bat as a launching pad to blow kisses into the stands. The preferred cricket celebration nowadays is to drop the bat, stick two fingers into one’s ears and shut one’s eyes. The gesture symbolises shutting out outside noise. Rahul should try it next time he’s in Parliament.
The thing is we, Indians, have always been queasy about kissing. When I was a student at Oxford, lovers kissed everywhere and anywhere – under gargoyles, outside the library, the HMV on High Street… India’s moral police, meanwhile, devoted its energies to attacking couples caught holding hands in crummy parks. Kissing on the dance floor was acceptable in Bombay, but was frowned upon even by the Khan Market gang in Delhi.
There was also the social kiss in England, which took some practice to master. It doesn’t come naturally to us. Should one go for the left cheek first or the right? Does one kiss three times – left, right, left – or is one peck enough? Should it be two?
In our films, the hero and heroine never kissed. Even now, our actors look uncomfortable kissing on screen. Curiously, the intimate scenes featuring homosexual characters, like in the first season of Made in Heaven, come off as far more natural. Songs about kissing, like ‘Jumma Chumma De De’ from Hum, were banned on the radio. My favourite from the era was the one from Love 86, featuring Govinda and friends, ‘O miss/ De de kiss/ Aaya hai 86.’ Part of the problem is with the Hindi language – the word for ‘kiss’ being ‘chumma’, which leads to ‘chumma chaati’, with its overtones of immorality and vulgarity.
Come to think of it, the ‘flying kiss’ is a beautiful phrase. It would make an excellent name for a boat, a train, a chartered jet, or even a bar. China has a famous theme park of the same name. It’s based on a mythical tale of two lovers. It features two giant statues blowing kisses, and on which people can take joyrides. Wags have said that the statues look more like waiters carrying oversized plates. The criticism is aesthetic, not moral.Speaking of hugs and kisses, BJP shouldn’t be so touchy about a flying kiss, since we all have taken touchy-feely diplomacy to new heights. When Fidel Castro surprised Indira Gandhi with a bear hug, it was a novel greeting in world politics. Today, our PM has made it his signature, so much that even Rahul took a leaf out of Modi’s playbook and hugged him in Parliament.What complicates the flying kiss is that it is an intangible, invisible thing. Perhaps, Rahul was yawning and covering his mouth with his hand. If at all, it was an ironic flying kiss, like when you tell your enemy, ‘Love you, man’, ‘Easy now’, flash a peace sign and walk out.
This was a flying kiss lost in translation. The delusions of grandeur lie firmly on the other side. Rahul was certainly not flirting. Let’s not diss the kiss. It’s time we got on with more serious business.
