Art has always been a mirror to society – sometimes a gentle reflection, sometimes a sharp critique. When Srijani Bhaswa Mahanta, an accomplished artist, released a music audio-visual in the "Bihu medium" that explored female sexual desire and polyandrous expression, she ignited a debate that runs deeper than just culture – it speaks to patriarchy, freedom of expression, and the selective moralism of our society.
The video, artistic in tone and rooted in Assamese folk tradition, has been labelled 'vulgar' by some sections of society. The criticism, however, seems less about the artistic merit and more about who is expressing what. For decades, Bihu songs, particularly those composed and performed by male artists, objectified women, using flirtatious, even lewd, lyrics for public entertainment. These songs were not only accepted but widely celebrated. So, why this sudden cultural uproar now?
The discomfort appears to stem from a woman artist reclaiming Bihu to articulate a female gaze, a gaze that is rarely afforded space in traditional narratives. It is not the first time a woman's articulation of her sexuality or desire has been policed more harshly than a man's objectification of the same.
This selective outrage exposes a deeper malaise: patriarchal conditioning that views women's autonomy – especially over their bodies and narratives – as a threat.
Beyond the criticism of her work, what is most troubling is the personal nature of the attacks. Some have gone so far as to drag her family into the controversy, pointing to her father's and uncles' positions in public life – as if a woman's voice must be tethered to the reputation or perceived privilege of her male relatives.
This tactic reeks of an old playbook used to silence women: discredit the individual by questioning her right to autonomy. Srijani Bhaswa Mahanta is not a proxy.
She is an independent, intellectual, and mentally sound artiste who speaks with her own voice.
At this mature age, she is entitled to her agency and deserves to be evaluated on her own merit, not through the prism of her family tree.
It is also crucial to confront the herd mentality with which some sections of society react to anything they perceive as 'against culture'.
Artistic expression often requires nuance to interpret, something the average mob is unwilling or perhaps unequipped to engage with. Yet art is not a tool of comfort; it is often meant to provoke, to question, and to evolve. Culture is not static. It is contextual, fluid, and ever-evolving.
Bihu itself has undergone transformations over generations from its rural, agrarian roots to its incorporation into urban stages and digital formats. If we can accept Hindi, English, and fusion as legitimate mediums for cultural expression, why not Bihu as a canvas for progressive, feminist narratives? However, somehow the herd mentality that fuels social media outrage appears to be less about preserving culture and more about resisting change. The irony is that culture itself is never static.
It is a living, breathing entity that evolves with the people who inhabit it. Examples abound globally of cultural evolution through artistic provocation. In classical Indian dance, themes once confined to devotion have opened up to narratives of politics and gender.
In Western classical music, modern composers have reinterpreted ancient myths through the lens of queerness, mental health, and trauma. Evolution does not erase tradition – it expands it. To those who argue that Mahanta's work threatens Assamese culture, one must ask: how fragile is a culture that cannot withstand artistic experimentation from within? Bihu belongs to all Assamese people – no one has a monopoly on its use or meaning.
There is no patent on tradition, and as a corollary, no one owns Bihu. It belongs to all Assamese people, including Srijani Mahanta.
A section of the critics with vested interests in the propagation of conservatism are not protecting Bihu; they are gatekeeping it. And in doing so, they risk suffocating the very creativity that has allowed this tradition to survive for centuries. Weaponising conservatism as an authority against her expression is not cultural preservation – it is cultural insecurity.
Let us also recall that artistic freedom is not just a social courtesy – it is a constitutional right. India guarantees its citizens the freedom of expression, which includes the freedom to critique, question, and interpret. Art is not supposed to simply reaffirm what we already know. At its best, it pushes boundaries and forces us to reconsider what we take for granted.
Art is liberation. And to silence artists in the name of tradition is to stunt the very creativity that keeps culture alive. Bihu is strong enough to carry evolving voices.
By
Bhavna Kalita
(Disclaimer: All views and opinions expressed in this piece are the author's alone)