Battle of the sexes

If you have come to this article drawn in by the seductive presence of ‘sexes’ in the headline, then we have to remind you that this a ‘family’ publication, never mind the fact that families cannot possibly come up on their own sans sex somewhere in the equation.

Family publications, by definition, refrain from discussing sex explicitly and generally stick to socially relevant, tame every-day, general-interest news reports and photos involving Nithyananda or N D Tiwari so that the sane sensibilities of the women readers are not affected in any manner.

In case you didn’t realise it, man and woman are biologically totally two different species. Emotionally, a single woman in herself, however, is several hundred species at any given time (the number rises exponentially when choosing a dress), while a man just about manages to tip the scales at quarter person, leaving him totally underdeveloped and allowing him the mental space to believe that organised violence, with boxing gloves, somehow qualifies to be sports.

Apart from the nature-created deviations, men and women also grow up and drift in such different directions that by the time they are old many of them end up having heart-felt convivial conversation with dogs or cats because the alternative to that will be to share words with their respective spouses.

It’s just not differences, men see women as threats, especially to the way they have been living all along, which is irresponsibly. Women, for their part, expect men to show the same sterling commitment that the pink- coloured Teddy Bears that they are so fond of exhibit. Of course, in their worst moods, it’s not beyond women to suspect that their trusted Teddy bear had been having a roaring affair with, well we don’t know. But think up something kinky here.

Men and women are twains that meet, without exactly meeting, if you get our drift. So that leads back to the headline: Battle of sexes.


When it comes to love, men folk are complete naturals and are endowed with an organic feel of romance to the passionate pulsation and the ceaseless throb that only automobiles are capable of providing.

Women, on the other hand, are incapable of falling in love with anything that cannot be given a greeting card to. Some anthropologists and social scientists even argue that all the historical romances ended in massive tragedies because the women in question could not consummate the love through greeting cards. Affairs of heart began to come off age only when Archies and Hallmark found horrible writers to fill in tacky cards with cheesy messages.

An adult man, with all his thinking faculties fully functional, can be emotionally closer to his Harley Davidson or Royal Enfield than with his wife or his biological progeny. Why? Well, automobiles, to start with, don’t ask questions.

There is no known case in the history of humankind in which a man has moved the court seeking divorce from his hulky bike or hunky hummer. But for the sake which he may seek separation from his wedded partner.  I know a person who has limited his progeny to one so that he can shower undiluted attention on his three Bullet bikes. I will not be surprised that men are loath to part with legislative seats to women simply because they can’t bear with losing out the siren-fitted bullet-proof cavalcade.

If male beings derive emotional sustenance from their vehicles then you have to realise they are driven by androgen, that unique male hormone which I suspect also saps away all the thinking cells in the brain.


Commitment and conviction are hard-wired into men and many of their allegiances are life-long. In matters of sports, that is. But when it comes to family, men adhere to a laid-back policy, more precisely known just as: Don’t care.

Women, for some reason, are just incapable of understanding this particular warm facet of men that allows them to be religiously steadfast to a team, which technically may not even inhabit the same continent that they are in.

I for one is a card-carrying supporter of the club, Boca Juniors even without knowing whether they are into hockey or soccer. I have been following it ever since I heard the name and found it pleasing on the ears. It wouldn’t matter even if they have moved into the manufacture of nuts and bolts. My support for them is unconditional and life-long. This is the kind of loyalty, the one that has no sense of logic, that we guys run up for many things in life.

It’s in the universe of sports that the man-woman difference is most pronounced. If a lady backs Royal Challengers, Bangalore, it means only one thing: Rahul Dravid is cuddly and cute. But sturdy men have an altogether different reason to follow Royal Challengers.

If a team that a man supports loses, he can drown his inevitable misery in beer. But if the same team somehow manages to pull off a win, he can raise a toast to its victory with beer. As you can see, beer is at the core of all sporting ethos. Take away beer, you kill sports and push men into misery. Royal Challengers may play average cricket. But they make excellent beer.

When you come down to it, you will realise that all sport is an excuse to drink more beer. Naturally men are committed to this for life.

Ok, the IPL has just started. Cheers to all the men pretending to read this.

And to you women, send in your volley of protests. My response to you all is: Sorry (in an Archies card).

How chweeeet!