India is one of the most populated countries in the world that has witnessed female Chief Ministers, Prime Minister, award-winning actresses, directors, and even the bashing of male journalists who dared to cross the line with Sunny Leone, and dared to ask Sania Mirza ‘when will she finally settle down’. Yet, in HoiChoi series, women don’t seem to come out of their cocoons. They are reduced to an object with breasts and buttocks, who willingly drop their saree, speak in a style that reeks of double entendre. There’s a fine line between expressing a woman’s sexuality and objectifying a woman. How? It’s normal for a woman to be smitten by a man, it’s not normal for the camera to particularly focus on the largeness of the breasts of the woman, who happens to be sexually more consensually available to men. Who is this woman on screen? Is she a sex worker, a stripper, a woman who sells milk or a homemaker? You won’t be able to distinguish that because the lens seemed to be more focused on their physical structure than the character. Her personal choices. You want to credit some of the actors who are trying their best to make the series a more interesting watch, but from the other end of the screen, you can feel their exhaustion. Some of them just need work and exposure. (We sincerely hope you get noticed by a deserving director). If a director is in dire need for a content worthy script, Bengal is practically over-flowing with the written works of Rabindranath Tagore, Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay, Sukumar Ray, Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay, Ishwar Chandra Gupta. Yet, HoiChoi chooses to dol out to mediocrity?