For starters, people should look their age and dress their age!
There is no fun in asking a mother of a one year old where she is studying these days. Absolutely no merit in that question! I mean, in asking where the mother is studying!
The reason why such a question would crop up in the first place is because it seems innocuous enough to initiate a conversation. The reasons for trying to initiate a conversation are twofold.
Secondary reason – both grabbed at the orange juice, at the same time; she wanted her vodka easier on the insides and, well I, wanted to have some more orange juice.
Primary reason – The only familiar faces in the entire gathering were the walls!
It takes some effort and courage to walk up to a group of people talking about colors and fabrics and, “oohh pata hai, even I saw the same dress, it was sooo pretty.” The said effort and courage doubles when the above statement is uttered by other men. No, I am not a homophobe. I detest pretension.
Specially after I have struggled miserably to swallow a cold and seemingly raw piece of chicken tikka in the middle of the most laborious conclusion to a conversation. The other conversation-convict had her eyes transfixed in horror, at the size of a human bite! It started off okay, but ended with talk of some random food event graced annually by my friend, between mouthfuls. The festival incidentally is held in her neighbourhood. She has never heard of such a festival! No I am not charming – in her own words, she is queer. No actually, ‘lebs-be-un’. Or mayber she chose to be that way after me.
So the conversation flowed – between other people – while I sat in different corners.
Obese and bearded men held the attention of other older men and young women.
I am sure, the “finer nuances of the intellectual ramifications of a prognosis of non-linear spatial ideas in the realms of contextually moving narratives with respect to their relation in history and economic sub-cultures” were actively discussed!
Definitely discussed! At length! What brilliance!
Some fashion ‘co-ordinated’ women were deeply engrossed in moving discussions. Older, experienced and working professionals were switching between quite conversations with their partners or close friends and ‘office mode’.
‘Office mode’ – hold a glass of an alcoholic beverage in your right hand with the left preferably in the pocket. The distance between your legs is directly proportional to how boring the conversation is likely to be. If your feet are close together, a few short jabs will be exchanged.
(Sample short jabs)
A – (excitedly) Hi! How are you?
B – (competing to be equally fake) Hi! I am great.
A – Still stuck in the same company
B - Yes it won’t amount to much without me, it will probably end up like yours
A – Nice to meet! Fuck off!
B – You too! Bastard!
In case your legs are fart apart, about a foot, you know this is going to be a long conversation about how it is “crucial to analyze and ‘banal-ise’ the implications and psyche of classified sections of a neo-modernistic society in the revealing light of impressionistic work on the prevalent societal norms because unless someone does something like this, I can bullshit for a considerable amount of time…also the interwoven sub-cultures need to be sieved through with delicate…”
Personally, I think, I would have to do the following to survive conversations at most parties;
The best way to survive a dinner party!
Also, you need to nod your head after every five words. After every few minutes start to stand on your toes your toes and half-way through abort. The result is head movements with occasional tempered thrusts. They serve as necessay punctuations. (For men only! Women do other things like – fake interest and shift their weight, cross their legs or heave their bosoms!)
I am not usually SO anti-social. There were a few fleeting warm smiles, from some seemingly likeable and interesting people. Unfortunately this was one of those occasions where you enter and you instinctively say – “Oh oh, I don’t think I am going to like this evening…” and that sticks out as the theme of the night. This particular evening was a little tough to ‘digest’ since the crowd was smallish and largely close knit – by neat fabrics, fuchisia and sub cultures.
Also, the presence of family tends to inhibit free expression, as a family member gives people a reference to judge. Not fun! Prison for the judges!
So inspite of a possible possibility of being acquainted by people who looked my age (and pretty), I couldn’t gather the gumption to break those animated and excitable coteries.
I shrugged my shoulders and asked if the paneer tikka was done. It wasn’t! By the way, the night gets worse – I start recieving phone calls to break the monotony of sitting in uncomfortable corners. The junta was now looking at me either reproachfully or with sneer.
So I indulged in conversations, on the phone, away from that smallish ‘intellectually’ and ‘gastronomically’ charged space…only to realise, that by the time I came back, most people had eaten. The others had done the customary – ‘touching the food’ and plates with plenty of food in them were already in the bin!
The experience of sticking out like a sore thumb – in a leather jacket – left me in no mood to be the last one with the dinner plate. Inexplicable decision in normal times. However, this was an extraordinary situation where I did not know anyone at a dinner party!
I was tired and sleepy. Had some dessert (which was not sweet!)
Some other highlights;
1) Spoke to an engineer, now a sort of marketing analyst, who claimed, that being in engineering he had met ’so many people like me’! Thank you!
Some of the things he said were interesting. However, if you give people too much respect – specially when they state the obvious – they sign off by saying, “sure, you can ask me for any advice or help”
BLAH! The dessert! The attitude!
2) Spoke to a chap true to his profession. He was apparently relaying, replaying and reporting the things I told him. He is a journalist!
The hostess was unquestionably nice, took pains to engage me in conversation, get people to mix around, but I was too tired, hypoglycemic and sleepy to come off as sparklingly bright and witty, which I usually also fail to do when I am alert and well feed. The less said about the host, the better, because I actually have nothing to say about the guy! Except that he likes red!
Congratulations and a verry happy married life to the couple!
Happy new year!
Epitaph for the evening: Came home and had leftover lunch – ‘chappatis’ and ‘aloo-gobi’ and was so close to eating ’shalgham’ also. Told a doctor about it, she was eating lasagna!
