There is something deeply revealing about the controversy surrounding GIVA’s Raksha Bandhan advertisement featuring actor Kriti Sanon.

A jewellery advertisement was released for a festival that celebrates the bond between siblings, and within hours, the conversation was about one woman’s clothes.

And eventually, the backlash became strong enough for GIVA to withdraw the advertisement from all platforms. The brand said it had the “highest regard and deep respect” for Indian culture and traditions and apologised if the campaign had inadvertently hurt the sentiments of some sections of society.

People are absolutely entitled to dislike an ad. If someone believes the creative treatment of Raksha Bandhan was inappropriate, they can say so.

If someone feels that tying a Rakhi to a pet does not fit their understanding of the festival, that is also a legitimate opinion to discuss.

But why did the woman’s clothing become the central issue?

The advertisement showed Kriti in an ivory Indo-Western outfit consisting of a bralette-style blouse, a cape and a draped skirt. She was shown celebrating Raksha Bandhan and tying a Rakhi to her brother as part of the campaign’s idea of family and protection.

The campaign attempted to broaden the idea of Raksha Bandhan by showing that the bond of love, protection and family can extend to pets as well. Kriti’s tying of a Rakhi to her pet was clearly intended to communicate that animals can also be an integral part of a family.

Instead of discussing whether that was an effective advertising idea, much of the online outrage focused on what Kriti was wearing.

And this is where I think we need to pause.

Imagine the same advertisement with a male actor sitting beside his sister, wearing shorts and a sleeveless vest. Would we spend two days discussing the length of his shorts?

Would political leaders enter the conversation to question whether his clothes were appropriate for Raksha Bandhan?

Would his outfit become a national debate about culture, tradition and morality?

I genuinely doubt it.

We might still discuss the advertisement. We might say it was poorly conceptualised or too commercial. We might even debate whether the representation of Raksha Bandhan was convincing. But the man’s body would probably not become the subject of collective moral scrutiny in the same way.

It tells us something about how comfortably society still believes it can monitor women’s bodies.

The controversy escalated after actor and BJP MP Kangana Ranaut criticised the campaign. She questioned why Kriti would tie Rakhi in what she described as a bikini or underwear-like outfit and called the advertisement “intentionally creepy”.

Her criticism was not simply about whether the advertisement worked as a piece of marketing; it specifically questioned the choice of Kriti’s clothing while portraying a traditional festival.

Kangana is entitled to her interpretation of tradition. But the larger question is: why does a woman’s neckline become evidence of her respect for culture?

Can we really measure someone’s cultural values by the number of inches of fabric on their body?

If the answer is yes, then we have reduced culture to a dress code.

And that is precisely the problem. I don’t think it is necessary to pretend that clothing can never be culturally relevant. Of course it can. Context matters.

Festivals have their own visual language, and advertisers deliberately use clothing, symbols and settings to communicate cultural ideas.

It is perfectly reasonable to debate whether GIVA’s creative choices were appropriate or effective.

But there is a difference between saying, “I don’t think this was a good creative choice,” and saying, “A woman should not dress like this while celebrating a festival.”

Kriti’s response was actually the bigger conversation

Kriti responded to the criticism by questioning why women are still being told what to wear. She argued that culture and tradition are matters of the heart rather than something determined by a woman’s neckline. She also explained the personal context behind the Rakhi sequence, including her bond with her sibling and her dogs.

That response shifted the conversation from a fashion debate to something much larger: who gets to decide what a woman is allowed to wear?

And that is why I think her response deserved more attention than the original controversy.

Because women hear these instructions all the time.

Wear this because it is traditional.
Don’t wear that because it is vulgar.
Cover yourself because it is a family function.
Don’t wear something revealing because men are around.
Dress differently when you go to a temple.
Dress differently when you go to work.
Dress differently when you get married.
Dress differently after marriage.

When exactly is a woman allowed to simply dress for herself?

Congress leader Rahul Gandhi also entered the controversy, backing Kriti and saying that what a woman wears, what she does and where she goes are her own choices. He urged people to stop trolling women for exercising that freedom and added a call to “smash the patriarchy”.

Naturally, that turned the controversy political.

Kangana responded to Rahul’s remarks, and what began as a jewellery advertisement became another familiar political battle between opposing ideological camps.

What I find particularly troubling is the certainty with which Kangana Ranaut’s criticism appeared to define what is or is not appropriate for a Hindu festival.

Passing a sweeping moral judgement on a woman because of her clothing is quite misogynistic.

Hinduism, unlike a faith built around a single central authority or one universally prescribed code of conduct, has historically been deeply pluralistic, with diverse traditions, practices, schools of thought and cultural expressions existing across regions and communities.

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There is no single template for what a Hindu woman must look like while celebrating a festival. That diversity is part of the tradition itself. So when a woman chooses to celebrate Raksha Bandhan in a contemporary outfit, it may be perfectly reasonable to dislike the styling or question the creative direction of an advertisement.

But to suggest that her clothing somehow diminishes the sanctity of the festival risks reducing a remarkably diverse religious tradition to a narrow definition of how women should dress.

Across India, temple sculptures and depictions of Hindu deities have historically portrayed the human body in various forms, including partially or minimally clothed figures.

These traditions have existed within Hindu art and religious spaces for centuries without the human body automatically being treated as vulgar or disrespectful.

And that, ironically, is a far more rigid interpretation of Hinduism than the pluralistic tradition itself demands.

But somewhere between Kangana, Rahul, social media users and the brand’s apology, the original advertisement almost disappeared from the conversation.

That is again ironic.

The ad was supposed to be about a relationship.

We made it about a woman’s body.

Can we criticise an advertisement without policing women?

This is the question I think we should actually be asking.

I don’t believe every criticism of the GIVA advertisement is misogynistic. That would be too simplistic. People can genuinely believe that a particular outfit does not suit the visual language they associate with Raksha Bandhan. People can dislike the pet sequence. People can think the advertisement tried too hard to appear progressive.
All of that is fair.

But criticism becomes problematic when the woman herself becomes the problem.

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Kriti did not commit some cultural offence simply by wearing an outfit that some people disliked. And GIVA’s decision to withdraw the advertisement does not automatically prove that the critics were right either. It simply shows the power of online outrage and the commercial pressure brands face when a campaign becomes controversial.

Perhaps the better conversation would have been about whether the advertisement successfully communicated the emotion of Raksha Bandhan.

If a woman wears traditional clothes, we shouldn’t automatically assume she is more respectful.

If she wears Western clothes, we shouldn’t automatically assume she is disrespectful.

And if a man wears shorts and a sleeveless shirt during the same celebration, perhaps we should apply the same standard.

Because if culture is truly about values, relationships and traditions, then a woman’s neckline cannot be its measuring scale.
The advertisement may have failed as an advertising campaign. That is a debate worth having.

But if the biggest lesson we take from it is that a woman should have dressed differently, then perhaps the advertisement was never really the problem.