The Taboo Trifecta: Crimes at a dinner party

Unless you're  an astronaut, I don't want to hear about your job. C'est finis.

 Life is too short to spend dinner parties telling people about what you do, your banal problems at work and why you deserve a promotion. Life is too interesting to bore others with the details of your day to day activities. Unless someone loves you and asks " So how was work darling?", you don't need to actually offer up a twenty minute monologue about how nepotism and the hierarchical structure of your job prevents you from being where you should be. Tell your supervisor that, not me. 

For most, politics and religion are taboo topics. Not me, to listen to a healthy discussion about whether God is female or male or a concept created by humans to feel less alone- conversation like that is thrilling. My taboo topics are: Money, your job and "that time I sang a song with a lisp when I was 5 that my mum likes to bring up around my friends ". 

Trust me, I want to know about why you are rooted what you believe and who you would vote for because it's a reflection of you as a person. Do you agree with the ruling party's choice to withdraw from the ICC? How do you feel about nationalization? Are you pro choice? Will you agree with me when I say my uterus is my own and no Facebook raving fundamentalist can sway me to believe otherwise. 

If you ARE a Facebook warrior against abortion and feminism then I probably will have to restrain from being rude because we both know it's unfair to fire a shot when you have the upper hand (NB - if in an argument with a fundamentalist Facebook warrior- you always have the upper hand on the moral high ground of sanity) (we will tackle them further on a day when I have more time and appropriate memes). Hold onto your blinkers until the end please and thank you. 

Talk about taboo topics with me- a sex scandal that involves a religious politician is a trifecta of taboo that one only dreams of. When we veer towards the controversial ,it reveals so much more. More than your spat with Bob from Human Resources, more than the traffic at five on a Friday. 

I want to ask you about your favorite film to see if we have any common ground in our tastes. What music have you been listening to? (Note I have a kickass Soundcloud playlist of music I am dying to talk about, to someone who likes a little indie and folk ) (at some point I will Fangirl about allll my favourite artists in a post). 

If words fail you, we can just talk trash about the strange people you know who have made bad life choices (or I can deliver an anecdote in the same vein). If you don't like the arts (I once met a man at a party who declared he couldn't abide by talking about the arts so we talked about science and AI technology and the eventual rise of machines who have more sense than to let war mongering humans carry on as we do) then we can mix it up- everyone has varied interests, I keep up with innovation (thanks TED and all the cool science blogs out there )the way I keep up with the Kardashians (I am very caught up, FYI).

Tell me about your big contract or presentation and all I can define you by is your job. People who discuss their salaries - you give me actual hives.  I don't know- maybe one day when I start to work I will empathise but what I will continue to ask is - "If you're so miserable at your job, why bring it up when you aren't even there?". 

Unless you're an astronaut or someone actively pushing innovation or medicine or social problems forward, I don't actually care. Will you be remembered for your job? Meh, I won't recall much more than my stifled yawns and staring at the untouched peppers on my plate.

Posterity won't note more than the time you got too drunk at an office party and shouted out about your gripes with lower executive middle management of the company you work for. 

(All pictures do not belong to me, thanks Google).

Functioning at family functions

Death and taxes may be unavoidable for all of us. However for your average Indian child, the maxim is altered:

Weddings, funerals and your cousins neighbour's prayers are unavoidable. Death and taxes will be sorted by Bobby Uncle (priest AND accountant).

You get the long weddings, the even longer funerals and then functions where you don't even know the host but they're obviously related to you (right?).There's an art to keeping your sassy comments to yourself, socialising properly to reflect that you were not raised by newts and finally, in identifying the samoosa with mince filling without biting into it. You nail those and you survive. Sort of.

Is your momma a newt? No? No excuse bud

 It's not that bad if you have cousins* to chat to during the proceedings and this generally is an incentive to attend the function. They're like friends that come pre-packed with family. They used to run around with you but now you're older and not allowed on the swings anymore. But it's a moot point if the aforementioned cousins are the sort who sit on their phones the entire time and won't say "Hi" back, to anyone. When I was younger I assumed that you got to a certain age and then stopped talking to relatives and your new place was skulking behind buildings and acting oh-so-nonchalant. The sort who wouldn't deign to have an iota of decency toward their family.I'm 18 now, still waiting for the natural urge to act rude. Will update you when I turn 25. Nada. For now however, good manners apply and hopefully they will always apply. You can't act too cool for the same people who saw you in diapers and with food in your hair. Stop it.

I've always been raised with the principle that you show respect for your elders, you give them your seat and greet them when you see them. I respect older people deeply because they had to live through a LOT and they can still  be friendly and speak to you without condescension(usually)  Even with my Handshake Policy **(for uncles I know vaguely) and my obvious reluctance to hug the insistent ones, I try to show some felicity. You don't sommer look up from your texting and grunt a hello. It's a reflection of your immediate family when you're that rude. Is your mother a newt? There's no excuse to be That Relative Who Doesn't  Speak if she isn't. You can grace someone else's table with your attitude, you can't sit with us. 

(*this is a loose term. It could be any relation who is in your age bracket  and/or younger than your parents) 

(** Even though I am female, we don't know each other so I will give you a good, firm handshake to rival any clammy-handed nephew of yours and maybe one day, when you die, I might consider a hug)

Three points on samoosas

- White friends will assume you make them yourself (keep that façade up if you would rather hide your supplier). Relatives will scrutinize the filling (more onion than mince? Someone got cheated). I will seek out the potato ones and avoid them like the plague. (I refuse to eat it)

-A good host should label what fillings are on display, if not- look for a dark, green-flecked parcel of yum and carefully take a corner off to determine the contents. If unsuccessful, sneakily put it on your dad's plate. 

- I have no last point other but the pun-oppurtunity was too good to pass up. Use this null point as a voucher to redeem a samoosa. OR use the food available as a distraction from insistent uncles who want to give you a hug, they can't make you stop eating. 

 Being a smart-arse will only land you in peril 

I inherited more sass than I should have. Paired with my tendency to not filter my opinions too much, it can do more harm than humour when around relations. Not all of them, I have family with amazing humour. But the ones who get picky and pointy-outy are usually tests on my ability to keep the sass down. Some mild examples are:

"You've gotten darker, too much sun hmm?"

"You're a lot fatter this time."

*pokes my stomach* "I see you still like your food"

Oh lady (because it usually is a lady) you test me. You make me call on my sassy ancestors and ask them to restrain my commentary about your superficial values and points on your physical attributes. Your "banter" makes me want to slaughter a beetroot to aid my inner peace in not bursting into an impersonation of you. Impersonation is my super power, to be used for good or evil. But I won't. Because my momma raised me right, also she is scary when angry and I don't need that kind of fear in my life.

Your quintessential Indian mother will instill a fear greater than religious fear. God has mercy but a mother armed with a wooden spoon may not. They are really strong people, these masala-making, sari-draping, death-staring, function-attending women. And you know there will be a look you get when you behave badly among relations, it freezes your heart and that cold dread spreads into every crevice. It's not just me, even mothers who are "laid back" can have this side them. They need a documentary series narrated by Stephen Fry: Crouching Tamil Tiger, Hidden Hindi Dragon; The Sari Safari ; Diwali Dangerous. Something along those lines.

(Disclaimer: I'll have you know, my mum is chilled- she uses the emojis on Whatsapp and can fangirl now and again. )

I digress.Earlier this year (When I actually started writing this post), I bumped into the parents of someone I find deplorable and insufferable. By honing back the Sass, I avoided asking how their child's criminal trial was going and therefore avoided probable injury. I walked back to my mother and my first words were: "My sass self control has hit another level, guess who I just saw?". Just be polite. It leads to a better you, one day probably. People recall your sassy quips faster than your classy everything else.

Honestly, I love spending time with relatives and what inspired me were the by-standers who appear aloof and rude toward these  same relatives. You can have the best laugh with the right Aunty and a cool Uncle can teach you card games. (Well one day someone will teach me thunee, I cannot play at all).When did it stop being taught that you should make an effort to be civil towards other people? Avoid being whispered about when you sashay to the biryani, avoid being frowned upon when you grab some burfee. Sort that out and you wil survive the marquee mêlée.

Be wise, socialise.