By Nepali Keti
Last Wednesday, a major Indian corporate house crowned yet another pretty girl Miss Nepal for no other reason – as far as I can tell – than to have her grace the labels of their products –and to raise awareness about the environment on the side. Based on how very little I actually know about pageants, Dabur Hair Oil, I imagine, will now replace last year’s foxy Zenisha Moktan with this year’s cutey Sadichha Shrestha in its marketing ventures. Brilliant!
Choosing a Miss “Nepal” from 18 middle-class-to-affluent city girls – shortlisted from 80 to 50 beforehand – makes me wonder how representative the contest really is – at least, get one from each zone, if not all the 75 districts in the name of Miss “Nepal” (while we wait for our federal states to be divvied out anyway). Because otherwise there is nothing “hidden” about these “treasures” – they were in the commercials and on the billboards of Kathmandu already.
Miss Nepal, I wouldn’t want to suggest, is a joke. Yes, “you are special,” and the way to “let the world know” is by dolling up, saying nice things and shaking your booty! This might explain why our former princesses sell real estate, and last year’s winner couldn’t receive the crown from her predecessor because Miss Nepal 2007 was too busy serving coffee on Emirates Airways. Talk about aiming high – personal and professional development at its best! So let’s forget how demeaning such a competition might be – for girls to prance on stage in revealing evening gowns, to be jeered at by the audience, and to be judged on the basis of their pearly whites and twinkling eyes.
I’m not gonna lie, I’m guilty of masking my face with makeup and opting for the most flattering dress I could afford. Except there is a slight difference between looking good for a dinner party and young girls complying to be scrutinized on stage. And Wikipedia (unreliable source or not) tells me a contestant can’t have given birth or be pregnant! Question: Is this 1956 and are we in a time warp?
I’m not enough of a traditional feminist to lament the nature of having said girls sway their hips and instructing them to smile despite the critical eyes examining the pores of their skin and texture of their hair. Or am I wrong to believe there is more to a girl than her looks?
I just saw the last five minutes of this year’s pageant on NTV (courtesy of load-shedding and the plain I-had-better-things-to-do), but I have enough of a heart to say if the girls want that, then let them have it. If they insist on flaunting their figures, being judged by graying middle-aged men and speaking English (ironically enough in a Miss Nepal pageant) – so be it.
The Maoists claim the contest is an “attempt of multinational companies to use women as commodities in the name of beauty contests that ignore inner beauty and focus on external looks.” But, I am convinced there are more tangible means of promoting and protecting women than disturbing a little pageant.
This is a free country and you should do what suits your fancy. I’m just puzzled about how all of this is based on looks and smiles and locks of hair!
Of course, it’s not just Nepal. Quite a few Miss-es ran around in my alma mater. Not sure what it was about my small liberal arts school but we had Miss Boston, Miss Massachusetts, Miss Teen Massachusetts (from two years, no less), Miss New Hampshire, and I think Miss New York over the course of my academic tenure alone.
No doubt our Miss-es were pretty girls. But they weren’t exactly the kind of women that inspired the girls that weren’t bent on posing for magazines, soap commercials and becoming the next Miss Something. I mean, honestly, if you actually care about disappearing tigers or climate change or women’s issues, you couldn’t consider a more serious means of highlighting the cause? Then again, I wouldn’t know – I haven’t tried advocating for world peace in a mini-skirt and sequined top just yet.
I might have more lessons to learn still. What with the industry growing and girls giggling, we have more of the Miss Newar, Miss Magar, Miss Gurung, Miss Nepal HK, Miss and Miss Nepal UK to add to the list of social elites. In fact, why don’t we line up these princesses and have them compete to be the ultimate Miss Nepal?
And if we are going to continue watching girls wave on stage, let’s at least do it right.
We could probably do without the tacky stage and the not-exactly-subtle message that hidden treasure is, ironically enough, based on face value. And we could probably do with more organization (Oh! We’re looking for the first runner-up’s scootie keys?), a real gift for the second runner-up (Twenty-five thousand Rupees? That barely covers hair and makeup!) and support all around for the winner.
Reading last year’s account of Miss World by Zenisha Moktan made me (even me, the one rolling her eyes at the whole Miss Nepal fanfare) sympathetic. The minimal financial and technical support she received and the pride she still managed to scourge up for her country was tear-jerking.
So what’s the point of crowning a Miss Nepal and then leaving her to scamper on her own when she goes to “represent” us? Oh right, we need a new face to replace the hair oil ad. Silly me!