Do you know what a "chautha wardrobe" is? You wouldn’t be wrong if you guessed it to be the fourth line of defense in Punjabi power dressing, the first three being business, party and gym wear. It actually refers to designer funeral wear, the "chautha" being the ceremony conducted on the fourth day of a person’s death, for which mourners customarily dress in white. Rich society ladies of Delhi are currently refurbishing their chautha ensembles... they would rather drop dead themselves than repeat what they wore last summer. After all, they attend the ceremony not to pray for the departed soul; but to be seen in their newest funereal designs.
The wardrobe syndrome symbolises the fake glitter of prosperous urban India, especially Delhi, the Citadel of Appearances. It doesn’t matter whether they go for campus recruitment or garden party, from teenagers to dowagers, all are dressed to kill. Because appearance is all that matters. Devoid of substance or culture, this group’s identity is shaped and reaffirmed by their appearance. Surely it’s a matter of time when accessories of the chautha wardrobe would include French "tears naturale" to make eyes glisten alluringly with unshed sorrow and perhaps even a cosmetic surgeon’s temporary tuck on the mouth to impart just that curve of sadness.
Genuine emotions, strong intellect, honest living and simple lifestyles are for those poor fools and squares who don’t matter or are woefully out of sync in this fast-paced world of glamour and glitz. If emotions are fake, so are most causes—or more specifically, the methods of fund-raising. Glamorous charity balls, art auctions and banquets are held regularly for worthy causes ranging from aids to the Gujarat earthquake. The expense is huge; the funds raised minuscule. But who cares? No one is counting anyway. Not the sponsors, not the fund-raisers, not the party hounds. The important thing is to be seen doing the right thing, while everybody has a good time. Charity, in fact, has become the latest social-climbing act. Rich ladies, dripping diamonds and accented English and their wheeler-dealer husbands, buy respectability and visibility with "charity work". What could be more telling than the high-society donor gazing, not into the receiver’s eyes, but grinning into the clicking cameras as he hands over the cheque?
All this is symbolic of the invasion of the nouveau riche. There is nothing wrong with the New Rich, they are a dynamic layer of an emerging economy. The problem lies in their ostentatious spending habits, even more condemnable when this vulgar display of wealth coexists amidst such poverty and deprivation. Consumerism is the new brahman. People shop till they drop, spend till they are spent and party all night long. "Keeping up with the Joneses" is the magic mantra of upward mobility. Functions are becoming more ostentatious by the day, with nouveau riche ingenuity focused on novel ways to upstage rivals. Husbands and wives buy black diamonds, bejewelled watches and designer clothes, while teenagers sashay on the catwalk of their youth, spending not pocket money, but "guilt money" supplied by parents who have no time to invest in bringing up their children. Which in itself is mystifying. Where is all this money coming from? All indicators show our economy is down. Growth rate has slowed, stockmarkets are down and agricultural economy has slumped.
Yet, how is that a broadening layer of Indians have so much disposable income? There appears to be a thriving parallel economy. It reminds me of Pakistan, where there is a booming parallel economy even though the state has been virtually bankrupt for over a decade. Experts say Pakistan’s parallel economy is fuelled by smuggling, arms and drugs. No one’s quite sure what is fuelling liberalised India’s parallel economy that is resulting in this mega spending. Some say, liberalisation has expanded and deepened the layer of wheeler-dealers. In the old days, they fixed government contracts, now they fixMNC deals.
But there are others who warn even the spending is fake. Big shopping malls are crowded with shoppers. Apparently, many of them are sight-seers or the trendy wanting to be seen shopping, even if they aren’t. Often, one genuine shopper is accompanied by a troupe of relatives or friends, all making an outing of what once used to be a routine activity. And then it seems it’s not just teenagers who sport fake Benetton and Nike labels. Even the celebrities and nouveau riche socialites often fake fancy international labels. So it’s not exactly the Armanis, Guccis and Piagets, but the Chinese, Korean and Ludhianvi fake artists who are thriving on the insecurities of the Indian nouveau riche.
But insecurities are invariably insatiable. Surely, this upstaging and keeping up with the Kapoors must end, so that money, intellect and energy can be directed to worthier pursuits. After all, this is not Manhattan or Monte Carlo. This is India where half the nation still goes hungry to bed, where babies still die of diseases long eradicated in much of the world and where women wake up at 3.00 in the morning to answer the call of nature because they must do so in the cover of darkness. Extravagance in the midst of our terrible realities is obscene.
Perhaps time has come to make it politically incorrect to spend ostentatiously. The Gujarat earthquake applied the brakes on celebrations and parties. Prime Minister Vajpayee’s decision not to celebrate Holi sent the right signal. He did it for Gujarat but this spirit can be expanded and strengthened to make a less ostentatious way of living more fashionable. Perhaps adults and adolescents, and especially society ladies, could make it a point to wear less jewellery and even repeating their clothes. After all, as they say, Money Talks, Wealth Whispers. It’s high time we reduced the decibel level of our spending.
(The author can be contacted at anitapratap@yahoo.com)
