For the wannabes, New Year's eve is the time to flaunt their Armanis and Guccis
So many celebs spend New Year nights looking for diamonds lost on dance floors or sprawling lawns. Sure, it’s a great loss to the ones who have lost a genuine gem. But not many will confess that the fallen diamonds are fake. Searching for lost jewels is now a mandatory ritual and so the wannabes—from young models to trendy wives of businessmen—shed tears for a precious heirloom or a Tiffany’s ring. But their zircon’s cheap dazzle would have caught a discerning eye earlier in the evening.
But far greater and more pervasive is the emotional loss endured by so many of these die-hard partygoers. It’s amazing how matters always come to a head on a special occasion, which a New Year is to most people. Smouldering hostilities and tensions flare up to the surface and explode, precisely because reality never matches expectations. Just to give a few cameo scenes and fragments of conversation overheard during these parties: dressed like a style guru in his Armani suit and Gucci shoes, a middle-aged entrepreneur struggles to impress his newly-acquired trophy wife. But she unfortunately is drunk and unabashedly making a play for a good-looking toy boy. Manners, style and caution evaporate as the night wears on. Bullets fly, cars crash, guests tumble. The son of an arms dealer yells into his mobile phone, presumably at an ex-girlfriend: "Happy New Year, Bitch." Wanting to flaunt her power over her rich partner, the slender, long-legged model purrs to her man: "Darling, its new year, come on, give me a kiss." He backs off, glaring at her in pure hatred and mutters "Tcha, leave me alone. I have a backache." What pray is the connection, you wonder. But that is the whole point. There IS no connection. Among a large number of these social climbers, there is no connection—between them or within. Like lost, lacklustre satellites, they orbit around the real stars, hoping that some of the ambient radiance will rub off on them.
And that is why people ask and people volunteer their New Year destination. Not what they did or whether they had a good time. "Which party did you go to?" is the new opening line for conversation, replacing the old, characteristic New Delhi question: "Where do you live", not "What do you do?" Your address indicates whether you have arrived. That’s all that’s worth knowing and if you haven’t arrived, you are not worth knowing. This year, there were a few parties celebrities would have died to get invited to. And the networkers who were invited are the first and the most vociferous to publicise their new arrival, just in case you did not notice. Which, of course, you did not. So a young model (our pantheon of models are fast outnumbering our 330 million gods) gushes crassly about how she spent Rs 15,000 to stay one night at a five-star just to attend a celeb party. Another yuppie vice-president boasts how he and his wife (he pointedly names her because few would know him or his firm, let alone his wife) spent Rs 10,000 minus food and drinks for one night. What they succeed in revealing is only their pathetic, wannabe wide-eyed wonder. Let alone the real rich, no one with depth, dignity or decency would talk like this.
It’s quite a sociological feast to watch these wannabes saunter in their 5-star hotels. They parade up and down with an exaggerated air of casualness, seeking to camouflage their hungry eyes that scan feverishly to spot real celebs and be spotted by fellow wannabes. They look like ghost figures haunting their own make-believe world. Life is reduced to a reality show. Their existential worth is defined by living in a bubble so that they can watch others and others can watch them. Of course, the jetsam don’t realise they look like monkeys in a glass cage performing to the dictates of the media and scorned by the real jet set. And yet, somewhere in the darkest corners of their minds, they recognise the pointlessness of their lives. The more these parasites drop names and gush about what a great time they had at a great party, the greater are the chances they are covering up their insecurities or plain boredom.
In a way, it is sad that this worldwide curse is infecting India where family and relationships are venerated from scriptures to Bollywood. Sure, it’s important to have fun the night before. But it’s even more important for friends and family, parents and children to converge the morning after, sit around the kitchen table, fix breakfast together, chat, crack jokes and poke fun at the falsities of the world. The bright lights of the night before cannot match the soft glow of the morning after. That is worth nurturing, especially because the mood of the morning after is more likely to be your companion for the rest of the year.
(The author can be reached at post@anitapratap.com.)