As history is witness, “We were just following orders,” is rarely a good defence for actions that lead to some of the worst fallout in humanity. But both Nora Fatehi and lyricist-translator Raqueeb Alam reached for just this defence when “Sarke Chunar,” the Hindi version of “Sarse Ninna Seraga Sarse” from Prem’s upcoming Kannada-language action drama film KD: The Devil, triggered massive outrage on social media.Shortly after the backlash, Fatehi released a short video on her social media platform. She clarified that she had shot the Kannada version of “Sarke Chunar” nearly three years ago. Relying on a rough translation provided by the filmmaker, she had incorrectly assumed this was just another standard-issue item number she was going to perform. Only recently did she realise how objectionable some of the lyrics were when the Hindi version surfaced. She has also mentioned how the AI-generated promotional poster was created without her consent; another point of discomfort for her.Alam, for his part, has maintained that he was merely translating Prem’s original Kannada lyrics, as instructed. He, too, noted in recent interviews that he had expressed reservations about the lyrics only to later find he was being credited as the primary lyricist.A 'Pink' Rebel in a Sea of Saffron: The Quiet Cheek of Taapsee PannuFatehi and FeminismThe social media retaliation followed a familiar script. The woman fronting the song, and rendering her physical form to turn it into a spectacle for the leery male gaze, became the lightning rod. Fatehi, already fresh off the controversy over her comments on feminism, was always going to be an easy target.It was the second wave of social media responses that eventually turned the tide on this discourse. The defence that emerged most coherently did not come from industry insiders or the intended audience for the song, but from those Fatehi and her ilk often like to lambast: feminists, especially the “radical” kind.Like me, other radical feminists, with their true-blue Left-leaning voices, emerged all over social media to have Fatehi’s metaphoric back and redirect attention toward the structural dynamics at play.We asked for accountability from the director and the lyricist (both of which happen to be Prem), the producers (Venkat K Narayana under the KVN Productions), and the all-male decision-making chain that ultimately took the final call on releasing this item song. It was, once again, “radical” feminists who wanted to interrogate the exploitative conditions of a prejudiced system.Nora of the ManosphereNot every woman out there wants to acknowledge the many freedoms she inhabits because of decades of feminist struggle; and not every man out there denies it. In manosphere spaces, this kind of performative distancing from feminist ideals becomes a way to appeal to men who have toxic masculinity bubbling and bursting out from every pore of their very being.Much of Fatehi’s curated public image has adhered to this familiar template that has become increasingly visible in the manosphere ecosystem. Her earlier remarks on feminism on The Ranveer Show were reactionary, dismissive, and quite frankly, debasing. But it got her publicity, which as we know is the real currency to stay relevant… since authenticity is dead and clout-chasing is all that remains.British broadcaster and author Louis Theroux recently captured this phenomenon in his documentary, Inside The Manosphere. He spoke to women creators who often appear on such podcasts, echoing anti-feminist talking points or playing dumb. These women admitted that it was all transactional. In exchange, they get a shot at internet virality and algorithmic reward.The “word salad” clarifications that followed in Fatehi’s subsequent interview with Mashable India did nothing towards any real damage control. In fact, she doubled down on being against “radical” feminism. She also ended up blaming them for being against nuclear families, which was simply absurd. Feminists, especially in India where they are expected to live with their in-laws after marriage, understand the many perils of enmeshed families and are indeed all for nuclear families; which might include just them and their partner, any children they might want, or just a cat or two instead entirely.Kerala Story 2's Real Insult Isn't to Muslims—It's to Hindu WomenCinema, Consent, Art, and Titillation Which brings us back to the song “Sarke Chunar” itself. I am against censorship of all kinds, but that does not mean one gets to be exempt from repercussions. The lyrics that triggered the outrage may be vulgar and it is imperative to be read as such without taking a moral highground. One of the queries in the song goes “choosega ya chatega” (“will you suck it or lick it?”)—and it is aggressively explicit. Again, the issue is not being suggestive per se. Indian cinema has long thrived on innuendo to titillate.Lines like these, in tandem with the “money shots” of a woman’s body—her cleavage, thighs, navel and more—do not invite playful reciprocity but instead create a dynamic of consumption and entitlement to the female body. In a country grappling with persistently high rates of gendered sexual violence, such cinematic language does not exist in a vacuum. It feeds into an already volatile atmosphere, where consent is routinely blurred or outright ignored.Moral panic in such situations is merely a knee-jerk response.The history of Hindi film music is replete with songs that oscillate between the erotic, the absurd, the cringe, and the outright problematic. A song like “Sarke Chunar” comes from a long legacy of songs like “Khada Hai Khada Hai” (Andaz, 1994), “Chhat Pe Soya Tha Behnoi” (Karan Arjun, 1995), “Chane Ke Khet Mein” (Anjaam, 1994), or even the more stylised sensuality of “Namak Ishq Ka” (Omkara, 2006). Add to this the prolific output of regional industries where sexualised content often veers into the crude and you will realise that these songs are not anomalies. They are part of a continuum.Raunch, wordplay, and double entendre are, in many ways, inevitable in a society where sexuality is both hyper-visible and heavily policed. The question then, is not whether such songs can or should exist, but how they are constructed and received. The gaze matters and so does the artistry.There is a difference between a composition that uses metaphor and rhythm to evoke desire, and one that reduces the female body to something consumable; to be devoured for satisfaction sans consent or reciprocity. The former can be subversive, even liberating—like the playful “Sheila Ki Jawani” (Tees Maar Khan, 2010) or the more confrontational “Oo Antava” (Pushpa: The Rise, 2021); the latter is often problematic.Meet Pink Divas: The Men in Love With Item SongsVictim or PerpetratorWithin this framework, Fatehi’s own position becomes more complex. She is both a victim and a perpetrator of a rigged system. That is how patriarchal bargaining works—it gives you mileage as long as you are willing to be implicit in your own dehumanisation.It is entirely plausible that Fatehi experienced a degree of exploitation in the creative process as she mentions in her video. Item numbers are rarely spaces of equal negotiation. Performers operate within tight constraints of contractual obligations, financial considerations, and reputational risks. Walking away is rarely a viable option. If Fatehi did express reservations, and was subsequently ignored, as she claims she was, that is perfectly believable.It would be naïve to ignore the possibility of calculated controversy. A song that trends for the wrong reasons is still getting the film air space. So, it is justified to wonder if the makers of KD: The Devil anticipate this media response. Perhaps it was their way to generate curiosity about a film that has clearly been stuck in production hell for a while. This would not be the first time a film has used provocation as marketing strategy. Which is one more reason why we should focus more on the asymmetry of accountability.The “Choli Ke Peeche” (Khal Nayak, 1993) star Sanjay Dutt, who also appears in the song, has largely escaped scrutiny. This is despite a public history marked by misogynistic remarks, well-documented struggles with addiction, and a personal life that has often mirrored the dubious excesses his films romanticise.This bias is a reflection of a broader patriarchal system film industries across India operate within. Creative authority in such instances remains overwhelmingly male. Decision-making power is concentrated, and with it, the ability to shape aesthetics as well as boundaries of acceptability. When controversy erupts, it is the most visible, and often the least powerful, participant who bears the brunt of the impact.(The author is an independent film, TV and pop culture journalist who has been feeding into the great sucking maw of the internet since 2010. This is an opinion piece. The views expressed above are the author’s own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for them.)