My son is 4, I don't want him to grow up to be a chauvinist pig

"Mom, I will save you from all the bad people. I have a lot of powers. You are safe with me," my 4-year old son hollers my way, in a theatrical Mighty Raju (a TV show many little boys obsess about) style. Imagine a puppy-faced little fellow, barely out of his diapers, snobbishly flexing his muscles (if there are any).

It should melt my heart, but strangely enough, instead of recording this herculean moment in admiration and posting it on Instagram, I just felt deeply embarrassed.

For one, he thinks boys can only be the likes of Chotta Bheem, Superman, The Hulk, or the Prince from the last fairy tale he heard. They have the magical strength and powers to save damsels in distress, much like Rapunzel's prince, who climbed a tower to save her from the clutches of a witch.

The witch/evil equals all the "bad people", supposedly also my house-help (!), uncouth drivers on the street, electricians, plumbers, and all those who trouble the ladies of his house - mostly, his mother.

To him, it seems his mother is distressed and waiting to be rescued. It irks me to watch him grow up on cartoons and TV shows that I find extremely sexist, so much so that I itch to make him watch serious films such as Pink. (Okay, I have got to wait till he can fully comprehend its nuances.)

I'm not thrilled about him assuming that men alone can change the world, let alone save it - much like his favourite Superman or Spiderman. I am not tickled by his assumptions that women have to fit into certain beauty standards and adorn gowns and pearls to be worthy of someone. Cinderella should not need a makeover to find love, should she?

Bed-time storytelling has become a bit of a hazard considering the little one takes each and every bit of these subtly sexist fairytales a tad too seriously. What troubles me is, at an impressionable age, my son is learning about gender roles, stereotyping and body shaming - under the soft veil of a fairy tale.

In Dr Seuss's famous Cat in the hat, the boy narrates the story and his sister Sally just really exists on the sidelines. In roughly about 60 books published by the widely read and recommended children's author, there were but two female characters and almost 80 per cent of the talking was done by the boys. Girls were either not likeable or merely existed under the man's shadow. 

Didn't a lot of men, who think it is okay for women to give up their identity - their names, families and so on - in the name of love learn it from Hans Christian Andersen's The Little Mermaid? Doesn't the little mermaid more than willingly want to become a human being for the sake of the "handsome" prince she is so hopelessly in love with? And, though everything is fair in love, such assumptions and compulsions may be wrong.

Does this not turn our boys into narcissists who would sooner rather than later obsess over their physical strength, looks and wealth, and scorn upon so-called imperfections and expect women to be the epitome of sacrifice?

Aren't we all blameworthy for allowing our little ones to embrace pompous masculinity and submissive femininity and glorify boys as mascots of change? While I fret and fume, I also realise how futile it is to expect such change in the blink of an eye.

But, I have found a way - and it has turned me into an unapologetic, badass mom.

I change the narrative and recite to my little boy my own version of these tales. Hermione is an equal hero in the Harry Potter series. Maybe by the time he can tell the difference, I would have made a gender-sensitive human of my little boy.

I often go on repeat mode with stories such as the Beauty and the beast, marvelling at the way she rescues her father first and later rescues the beast from his curse - all with the power of love. To me, instilling in my son that all women are beautiful, and wield equal powers as anyone, is not such a bad thing, after all.

While I do not overplay the powers of a woman in the re-telling of the fairy tales, I just ensure he sees me deal with all the "evil" people troubling me; sometimes by going it alone - fixing gadgets at home, using tapes to fix leaks, firing my staff for unacceptable behaviour, even calling out someone's shameless sexist attitude while enjoying a cup of tea.

Though I love playing "beautiful" on most days, I carry myself with utmost confidence on bad days too. Beauty has no standards, I tell my dear son, and clothes do not define character. We are very upbeat about that.

Between giggles and tears, as parents, we deal with a myriad of emotions. It's all right to cry, and a hug may fix a few things. Boys cry too - just like Superman who yelled and cried after killing Zod in Man of Steel. When my son is not convinced, I just browse the internet for proof.

Working mothers are no different from working fathers - all equal professionals. While the mother can be the bread-winner, she can be the loving baker too. As can be the father. But, just because I love doing things for my son, I will not let him take my existence for granted. If I help him with puzzles, it is mandatory he takes his routine seriously. How about picking his own toys, for starters? We both help each other - make mistakes and learn together.

And, while we are very generous with cuddles, a "no" means a no. and, we are both okay with it.

There is no concept of "boys will be boys" in my territory - just as there is no room for "girls will be girls". That neither makes him fragile, nor a lipstick-lover. By raising a feminist boy, I'm just ensuring my son doesn't grow up to be a male chauvinist pig in the name of chivalry. Because it will be long before Mowgli, the woman cub, can save the jungle!