Beauty ideals didn’t simply descend from heaven, they actually came from somewhere and served a purpose, often a financial one, namely to increase the profits of those advertisers whose ad dollars actually drove the media that, in turn, created the "ideals.” These words by feminist author Naomi Wolf serve as a fitting introduction to Jyoti Dogra’s solo performance , a visceral exploration of the commodification of the body and the shame surrounding it. Set to be performed at Oddbird Theatre over this weekend, is not a conventional play but a deeply personal piece devised, directed, and performed by Dogra herself.
In this performance, she confronts the policing of the body, the shame ingrained in us, how various industries play a role in this alienating relationship with our bodies, and the conversations around it by people we encounter in everyday life. “I get on the floor and start working out different scenes, dramaturgy, and structures,” says Dogra. This method of creation, where the narrative unfolds through experimentation and physicality, parallels the themes of , where the body becomes both the subject and the canvas.
Dogra began working on during the COVID-19 pandemic, a time when many of us became hyper-aware of our bodies. “Either people had gained a lot of weight or lost a lot of weight; of course, people were eating a lot of healthy stuff, getting into fitness due to the fear of COVID-19. There was also this general policing of the body; we police our body or the world polices it for us,” remarks Dogra.
In , Dogra pushes the audience to reflect on how our bodies are commodified, not just by industries but by us. The name reflects this. In Hindi, maas refers to flesh.
“Maas is something you eat, but it’s also the flesh on your bones,” she says. The title encapsulates this duality — the body as both nourishment and a burden, a site of judgment, pleasure, and shame. “My body is for the consumption of the world,” she says.
This metaphor extends to how we judge ourselves. Even when alone, the critical voice persists. “People say things like, ‘Bahut maas chad gaya hai’ (so much fat has accumulated) or ‘Yaha se maas latak raha hai.
’ (the fat is hanging from here). Even when no one else is around, one wakes up in the morning and thinks, ‘Oh, I look so fat.’” For Dogra, the commodification of the body goes beyond personal insecurities.
It is an entire system designed to keep us dissatisfied. “Whether it’s the food, fashion, cosmetic or the fitness industry, it’s all based on the idea that you are not enough. You’re not okay as you are.
And that is ingrained in us,” she says. From social media filters to advertisements, the message is clear: to be desirable, to be loved, you must fit a certain mould. She critiques this industry of shame that feeds off our insecurities.
“We’ve learned to objectify ourselves,” she says. With every selfie we take, every comparison we make, we are feeding into the same system that profits from our dissatisfaction. This commodification is really subtle, she says.
“It changes your psyche, your sense of agency over your own body,” Dogra adds. “The body starts to feel like something that exists for the world’s consumption. Whether it’s for the vegetable vendor, a random person on the street, your office colleague, or strangers in public transport.
It’s like food being served for others to consume.” While explores universal themes, it is rooted in the everyday experiences of ordinary people. “The piece is about regular people living their lives — doctors, engineers, teachers — who feel a deep sense of shame,” Dogra says.
“They feel they’ve failed themselves and the world because they don’t look a certain way.” In the world of , the shame is not reserved for those who are visibly overweight or unfit. Even those who meet conventional beauty standards feel the sting of not being “enough”.
“You see beautiful, slim women who carry deep shame inside them,” Dogra notes. “You’re not born with shame. It’s taught to you.
” The performance highlights the violence of everyday interactions the comments from friends, the looks from strangers, the advertisement and health industries — that reinforce this shame. “It’s about the everyday regular people who don’t have time to spend hours in the gym and don’t have a team of professionals helping them ‘maintain’ their bodies like celebrities,” she says. Since its premiere in Bengaluru in May 2023, has travelled to over 45 venues across India and abroad, including Dubai and Zurich.
The piece’s success lies in its ability to resonate with audiences on a deeply personal level. “The centre of the show is my body — my breast, my pain, my flabbiness,” Dogra explains. “As you watch me on stage, I want you to start thinking about your own body.
Some of you might be thinking about the meal you’ll have after the show, or how you’ve been dieting, wondering if you look fat or not. But the goal is to make you reflect on how you’ve been conditioned to see yourself.” In , Dogra holds up a mirror to the audience.
Moreover, she challenges the very concept of body positivity. “Body positivity is bullshit,” she says. “You’re fat but don’t feel fat — what does that even mean?” For her, the real question is about ownership and agency.
“It’s not about loving your body; it’s about who owns this body,” she explains. “Who has the right to say, ‘This is right, this is wrong’? You should have the right to say, ‘Shut up, I love this body as it is’ or ‘No, I want to change my body.’” Catch Maas at Oddbird Theatre, The Dhan Mill Compound, 100 Feet Rd, Chhattarpur, on September 21-22 at 7 pm.
Tickets can be purchased at oddbird.org.
