A bunch of men in Rishikesh decided a couple of days back that they’d had enough of women participating in beauty pageants. Members of a fringe right-wing outfit stormed a Miss Rishikesh rehearsal and started lecturing contestants about “Indian culture.” One of them was heard telling the women, “Modelling khatam ho gayi, ghar jao (Modelling is over, go home).”
Imagine that. A man walking into a room full of women and telling them to “go home”. Because apparently, women existing confidently in public, wearing clothes he disapproves of, are now a threat to Uttarakhand’s sanskriti. This isn’t about culture. It’s about control. And now, frankly, it’s exhausting.
From Valentine’s Day raids to pub attacks, from college dress code “guidelines” to self-appointed gender guards, India’s moral police are having quite the free run. They pop up wherever women dare to be visible, modern, ambitious, or simply free.
The hypocrisy is staggering. We sell “Western clothes” in every store, run beauty pageants on national television, celebrate Miss Universe wins, but when a small-town pageant tries to do the same, suddenly, it’s the end of Indian civilisation?
I want to call it out for what it is: Moral panic dressed up as cultural protection. Rishikesh, a city known worldwide for yoga and international visitors in shorts and sports bras, apparently can’t handle its own women walking a ramp in similar outfits. Foreigners can wear what they want; Indian women must “know their place.”
The women at that rehearsal did what more of us must do: They talked back. One contestant confronted the leader of the pack and asked him to stop the sale of Western clothes if they have a problem. Another asked the only question that really matters: “Who are you?”
Exactly. Who are these men to decide how women should live, work, or dress? Who made them the gatekeepers of morality?
What happened in Rishikesh isn’t just an isolated burst of chauvinism. It’s part of a larger culture that polices women constantly: From school uniforms to workplace attire to the way women employees are indirectly asked to be more “agreeable”. We are told it’s about respect, but really, it’s about power.
And this power doesn’t only shout; it seeps quietly into the everyday lives of women. It’s why girls are taught to text “reached home” before they’ve even caught their breath. Why parents track location pins instead of trusting that the streets will be safe. Why so many women don’t go out after a certain hour, avoid wearing “revealing” clothes, or tuck away dreams that seem “too bold”. The country never stops reminding women that their safety, their choices, their dignity are all conditional.
That’s what incidents like Rishikesh do: They don’t just humiliate a few contestants on stage; they send a message to every young woman watching — know your limits. They chip away at women’s confidence, one catcall, one piece of “advice”, one interruption at a time. For every contestant who dared to stand there in heels, there were likely a dozen others who wanted to, but didn’t because they knew the world would punish them for trying.
Beauty pageants, for all their flaws, still give women something rare in small-town India: A stage. An opportunity and the confidence to dream bigger. For many, it’s not about glamour, it’s about agency. And that’s what unnerves men like these. A woman on stage, shining, choosing, speaking — that’s the real threat for them. These men, who are not worth naming, blur into one another. Men cut from the same cloth, faceless in their fury, identical in their need to control, unknowingly terrified of women who won’t shrink before them.
But women aren’t shrinking anymore. From politicians in hijabs, pilots, journalists, Army officers, bartenders, and pageant contestants — they’re pushing back, talking back, standing tall in the glare of moral policing. So, unsolicited advice from men needs to stop now.
India’s culture, that these self-proclaimed protectors “guard”, crumbles every time a woman is told to sit down, shut up, and go home. Our culture needs protection from such men and their intimidation tactics, from the constant policing disguised as tradition and morality. The real threat to our culture isn’t women in short dresses; it’s men like these with short tempers and long lectures on morality. And if our culture is so fragile that a few women in sequins can break it, maybe it’s not worth saving at all.
stela.dey@indianexpress.com
