Killing With Kindness

At this point, both Mr Dirtymoney and Ms Allsilicone turn to Mrs Solitaire Ramani and, in sentences soaked in superlatives, say: quot;You really do have the perfect manner when it comes to introducing people. But then given the perfect dress you are wearing 8212; Jil Sander, right? 8212; and that perfect smile of yours, you reallycan do no wrong. And by the way, your watch, is it a Bulgari? So is mine! Darling we are soul mates. This is a cosmic connection.quot;

Eavesdrop at a conversation taking place maybe 100 yards away: quot;Darling, have I introduced you to my new best friend. She is responsible for my about-to-take-off career as a singer. If she hadn8217;t encouraged me I would still be just a home-nurturer.quot; quot;No, no, darling, if two weeks ago we hadn8217;t met I would just be another beautiful face. You launched my career 8212; now I am a model and next I want to anchor my own TV show, a business one of course. After all, I am no bimbo. Kiss, kiss.quot;

To put Bombay social interaction in the lower-than-the-top-but-striving-to-get-there echelons in a nutshell is simple: XXOO XXOO XXOO XXOO 8212; hugs amp; kisses, hugs amp; kisses. Everywhere.

The parvenu, those-in-a-desperate-urge-to-be-in-the-show have enveloped Bombay in an aura of saccharine 8212; that is so nauseatingly sweet that when caramelised the smell kills, with kindness of course.

In the daysof yore, only the really brave and thick-skinned and talented dared to come to Bombay. The city was famous for its harsh critics, acerbic tongues and pens-dipped-in-acid hacks. People were crucified for crimes like bad hair and bad wardrobes 8212; if bell-bottoms were passe and jumpsuits were in, you wore them, even if your bum looked big. Heaven forbid if you were spotted in bad company. That was the 11th deadliest sin. And the stabbing you got in the back would8217;ve done Brutus proud. In those days, the glitterati made news for being rebels without a cause.

Now, Bombay8217;s upwardly mobile can be tagged quot;Rebels with a causequot;. Their cause being I, Me, Mine. The only difference now is that instead of blowing your own trumpet 8212; quot;Darling, don8217;t be gauche, that went out with spray-starched hairquot; 8212; you get others to tout you as the next Homecoming Queen. And don8217;t kid yourself, getting that art down pat is not simple. The social more now goes likes this: Get out there and tell everyone, quot;Darling I love you, yourhair, your bad skin and tacky tastequot; 8212; with the implicit threat that quot;You better love me for the samequot;. It works like a charm. Try it, twice. Soon your photograph will be in society pages wearing your best bib, best smile and the banner of The Best in the Business. So what if it is The Best Bullshitter, the Best Streaked Hair in Town or the Best Baby Voiced Bimbette. You have scaled yet another rung of the social ladder.

But if you are a nostalgia buff and long for the days when people were hung, drawn and quartered before the cocktail hour, then try this: Say something rude about anybody 8230; All the attending party members will jump down your throat and will start throwing glowing platitudes around.

The seven deadly sins still underlie every social interaction but now it is the high-diabetic content of the sugar coating that kills rather than a good cut-throat fight. You must admit that there is something most humiliating about being ravaged by kindness; it is a bit like being savaged to death by asheep. Bring back the wicked witches who boiled and toiled over a brew of biting wit. At least you knew they were out to get you. Now, everyone is out to kiss you. Aargh!

A lawyer friend once told me: If you think everyone is nice, then you haven8217;t met everyone, yet. Did I just hear Bombay turning a deaf ear to that?

Nonita Kalra is the features editor, The Indian Express.