Do you waddle between the kitchen and the dining room, sweating like a pig in this sultry Indian summer? Does sucking your mangoes seductively like Katrina Kaif take your taste buds on a nirvana trip? If your answer to both the questions is a yes, you must rethink your life choices.
STOP! PAUSE! You require a lesson or two in etiquette. After all, why should you lead your life like a primate? You are an evolved human being. So, behave like one!
Meet the stiff upper-lipped, prim and proper dandy who will make you rethink the way you eat, drink, communicate, walk, or even breathe. A life without etiquette is like a Brit without his fish and chips. Or is it beans on toast? Whatever!
I came across his video by chance. The pompous poseur with his exaggerated mannerisms must have prompted a haha reaction from me. That’s it! Zucky bro assumed I am a primitive who scoops curd rice from the floor and slathers it across my mouth. The kind samaritan has then made it a point to flash successive reels on my timeline, showing me how inadequate my manners (at the table and off it) are. Sigh!
Sixty-nine videos later (because I am hooked), I am convinced about the wastrel I have become.
I look at a banana and gasp. How could I peel it like an ape and put it in my mouth? The fruit, I mean. Is there a shortage of cutlery in my house? So, I take out a plate, a knife, and a fork. I cut the two ends of the banana, taking care not to create a clanging noise. By then, I have become a Pete Sampras, protruding my tongue as I attempt to tear open the skin like a plastic surgeon in a genteel manner. Remember! I am no more an uneducated Indian, rather a brown, suave, and pretentious priestess of protocols. A tiny cut that is the size of a grape looks forlorn at me. Pricking it with the fork and mentally apologising to it for the trauma, I pop it and chew it so softly that even my cat Uttam cannot decipher a single decibel.
“What’s for lunch?” The husband asks me one day.
“Beetroot rice”, I mumble. It’s a recipe I have learnt from the internet.
The red colour of the basmati rice is tantalising. Our spoons are ready. A familiar voice breaks my reverie. How dare I eat rice like an Asian who has been accustomed to this staple food for eternity? Should I bring out the fork? There is a regal way of popping the grains in your mouth. All I need is to know my dominant hand from its opposite one, making me wonder if I am going to perform BDSM acts on the unsuspecting Kohinoor. Fortunately, sanity prevails, and I return to the desi mode.
Just the other day I watched a plateful of green peas getting massacred in the name of manners. My sensitive heart bled for the poor peas as the gentleman speared them onto the tines of his fork before chewing them silently. A thousand questions raged in my mind.
- Which restaurant serves a bed of green peas on a plate without seasonings or even a semblance of a gravy?
- How much time will it take to consume a plateful of matar in this manner?
- Is this technique applicable to a bowl of pomegranate seeds?
The torture is not restricted to eating. Do you want to be the cynosure of all eyes when you enter a room full of people? Well, etiquette dictates that you do not turn around and close the door. Why would you want to divert the attention of the partygoers to a piece of wood? To look important, all you have to do is to look them in the eye, step to the side, and close the door. Make sure you do not divert your gaze away from the dignitaries.
I tried this at a get-together once. My neighbour is in hospital with a broken nose.
Even inanimate objects demand elegance in their treatment, as I learnt from the coach. Apparently, pedestrians are in the habit of dropping luxury totes on the footpath. Don’t ask me how or why. Maybe the wealthy do not bother about such trivialities. In a scenario like this, do not, I repeat, DO NOT, bend over like a dog to retrieve your Prada. Using your knowledge of geometry, calculate the degree to which you can bend your knees. Pray that your arthritic joints do not give way, and then pick up the bag. I have a better idea. Ditch the tote. You’re rich enough to buy a new one. Or better, ask your servant to pick it up for you. Etiquettes are not for the underprivileged.
I do the sensible thing I should have done a long time ago. IGNORE!
Who needs to learn the art of curtsies and the significance of flags fluttering atop Buckingham Palace? Unless I receive a personal invitation from the Prince and Princess of Wales, I don’t see the need to bend my knees without ripping my skirt in the process or falling flat on the polished floor.
Let me be happy in my own world. Tehzeeb jaye tel lene. Or to put it gently, etiquette can go on a memory trip down the East India Company lane.
By Narayani V Manapadam
“Narayani is an IT Professional lost in the dreary world of Excel. When time permits, she loves to get lost in the maze of Word(s). But nothing makes her happier than being a cat momma to her beloved Uttam.”
She can be contacted at fraunara@gmail.com.
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