# Kapil Dev, the brave Jat, breaks down inconsolably on BBC when Karan Thapar reminds him of Manoj Prabhakar‘s claim that he had offered Rs 25 lakh to him underperform in a one-day match.
# L.K. Advani, whose very name makes millions cry, says Taare zameen par made him cry and then actually cries (“without glycerine“) in an interview with Rajdeep Sardesai on CNN-IBN and with Barkha Dutt on NDTV while touting his memoirs My country, my life.
# Siddaramaiah, the former deputy chief minister who bearded former prime minister H.D. Deve Gowda and his sons, comes to tears before the media because he can no longer stand from Chamundeshwari assembly constituency because of delimitation.
# S. Sreesanth, the medium-pacer who looks at opposing batsmen menacingly even when he has bowled long hops and donkey drops, weeps in front of a Bollywood actress when punched in the face by Harbhajan Singh.
Why are Indian men using their lachrymal glands so much in public and bawling like babies? Despite our claims of being the stronger sex, are we instinctively weak; less in control of our bodies than women in corresponding situations? Are we incapable of holding back our emotions? Is our machismo just a put-on? Or are we seeing a new Indian mard—melodramatic, insecure, uninhibited, chaalu—using welled-up eyes to gain sympathy and convince the world of our case?