Fifty Shades of Grey. It’s the title of a new trilogy that includes Fifty Shades Darker and Fifty Shades Freed that’s being touted as the ultimate ‘mommy porn’ in the US. No connection with the political class in India of course, although their lives would make so much of a better fit for that particular genre of pulp fiction, littered with paternity tests, DNA results and questionable liaisons.

The titles certainly set you thinking about the largely hypocritical society we live in, where we say one thing and mean quite the other. So many shades of grey…

But the story of the week is the woman that her critics describe as a “mercurial oddball and a shrieking street fighter,” whom the US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton is flying in to meet, making a special detour to Kolkata for a tete a tete. Wow! Hillary Clinton and Mamata Banerjee. When Chanel meets Chowringhee….

Mamata. ‘Consummate politician’, who epitomises doublespeak like no other in recent times.

Evangelical cotton clad avatar who stalks across our television screens, followed dutifully by an aide, scurrying by her side, eyes cast down, weighed down with the burden of state.

Mamata’s pout, the holier than thou pronouncements, the brooding menace that hangs over even the most banal of statements delivered at high pitch, her words running into the next, the brain working faster than the motormouth… that’s Didi, aka Mamatadi, first woman chief minister of West Bengal, who holds her party, her state and clearly now with the presidential race hotting up, Dilli, apni muthi mein. The twinkle in her eye.. would that be a chink in the mask or a manic gleam?

But like her or not, there’s only one word to describe the high decibel drivel that plays across our screens with Mamata in the starring role – bizarre.

Who, in this day and age, would issue a diktat that no-one in the party should date or marry a Communist? The joke in AKG Bhavan in Delhi is that the exodus has begun. Threatening to turn into a flood as all able-bodied men of eligible dating age head out of Bengal where every third person, at the very least, is a red card holder.

We don’t have anyone in that fearsome female mould in our southern states. Jayalalithaa’s schooling and her ability to draw the line, stands her in good stead. It prevents the megalomania that inhabits lonely women – and men – holding political office, from taking her over, tipping her over the edge. She seems progressive in terms of her views on bringing investment to her state, even comfortingly pragmatic; demonstrated when she withdrew her support to the agitation against Koodankulam the minute it was politic to do so. The underlying menace, nevertheless an indicator that she means business.

The only woman who came within sniffing distance of similar power in Kerala, a state one must emphasise that scores high on all the social indices on women’s empowerment, (only on paper surely) is Gowriamma. Given a quiet burial by the state’s misogynistic Marxists now, wasn’t she? The unspoken truth of Kerala’s politics – the male political class cannot quite stomach the alert, aware women in their ranks. Sharing intellectual space is hard enough for the Reds. Sharing it with a woman? Whoa, not done! Unless, of course, you are the wife of the boss and have unlimited access to the airwaves a la Brinda Karat. And she’s not even from Kerala.

Here in Karnataka, the minute a woman, any woman ventures into the political space, the nudge-nudge wink-wink brigade isn’t the only thing she has to contend with. One only has to look at Shobha Karandlaje. But the woman who wants to stand for a seat will see the goon squads unleashed, get beaten up, shoved around, see her staff getting thrashed, or receive the quiet midnight phone call that advises her not to campaign in that area or else… and the police do nothing. Witness, Mamata Nichani, and Tejaswini. The entire phalanx of wives and girlfriends who shouldn’t be standing in the first place of course, have a smooth induction. A bimbette always has the male politicos blessing.

Then again, Mamatadi’s raucous politics may not be everyone’s personal cup of Darjeeling, and the questions about the dichotomy between her public pronouncements and her private life, may be grist to the gossip mill; but the fact is, she is as much a victim at the hands of the Marxists as any. And that’s probably what gives her the pass key to power.

Now, the date with Hillary Clinton, arguably the most powerful woman in the western world, as opposed to Mamatadi who figures as one of many in Time’s 100th most powerful list, could see one of two things happen. It could arguably catapult her to centre-stage. Or she could continue to perpetuate the assiduously cultivated image of a non-conformist.

What she makes of it will be interesting. This is Mamata, the woman who did not think twice before embarrassing the prime minister, giving her thumbs down to the Teesta water sharing deal with Bangladesh, hours before she was set to fly into Dhaka with Dr Manmohan Singh. Delhi must know what’s it doing, exposing already fragile Indo-US relations to Mamataspeak!

But quick question – what is it about women in politics that has the male frothing at the mouth? And why do women, who thrive as corporates and bankers, find it so difficult to break through the political glass ceiling? And, even when they do, why do they have to be cast in the garb of a saint, asexual, uninteresting to the opposite sex, who abjure male company, dress down for the masses in chaste, crumpled cotton or all encompassing cavernous mulberry?

Sultry actress Rekha set to sizzle in the Rajya Sabha, sending pulses racing notwithstanding, one must admit that people prefer the safe option – the matronly rather than the thritysomething with curves. Or that hard to find, truly authentic article – Myanmar’s Daw Aung San Suu Kyi whose journey from democracy icon to political prisoner to parliamentarian has taken a truly Nelson Mandela-like 16 years in captivity.

Suu Kyi’s lack of animus towards the military, that her father helped found in post-colonial Burma, and her clear-headed articulation of her goals has won her nation over as well as her critics, and swelled the ranks of legions of supporters worldwide.

But here at home we descend into pettiness. Look at the manner in which the Congress’ Rani Sathish has been given the treatment by her male colleagues, who share her Lingayat caste. Shabby. No mystery why, no prizes for guessing why they harangued her. She was the one who brought Sonia Gandhi, the chairperson of her party for a high profile visit to the state. Not them. The cabal of the holier than thou that inhabits the party in the state hasn’t been able to see past the green monster ever since.

Politics cannot be the sole preserve of the female, but every woman who wants to be a politico should be given her due share. As for Rani Satish, she must be given credit for creating an opening that brought in the party chief and yes, the quid pro quo - she shared a dais with her…

Shades of grey? That would imply nuance and subtlety when it’s all subterfuge and deception to keep the Indian woman in 21st century India from bolting the political door behind her. Female factor, Should be both Chanel and Chowringhee...