Tired of people asking you uncomfortable questions? Worried that answering these questions will affect your relationship with them? Well, here's some advice that might help: switch subjects. If done tactfully, it actually works. Either that, or you can tell them on their face that you are uncomfortable about answering the question. I guess that works sometimes....
But if you are still interested, let's go into the first piece of advice. Changing the topic. Let me give you the best example I know of.
The movie: Namak Haraam, a classic film from the '70s just before (or maybe during) the era of Unemployment Films. Why "classic"? Thanks to two magaan yinsaans. No, not Amitabh. Not Rekha. Rajesh Khanna? Oh hell no.
Story in brief: Class war comes between two close friends (jigri dost), one an industrialist's son and the other a son of the streets (if you can ever imagine Kakaji in a convincing role as the son of the streets, without that toothbrush moustache he had in Aaj Ka MLA Raam Avtar!). The motto of these movies was "the good guy is the dead guy", so the good guy was always Rajesh Khanna, developing Lymphosarcoma of the taint. Side effects may include perpetual 4 o'clock shadow, shawl overgrowth and the tendency to stay annoyingly cheery. I'm talking about movies like Anand, Amar Prem (well he didn't die in it, but he was in love with Sharmila Tagore, which is just as bad), Aaradhana, Safar (as Subroto quoted Javed Jaffrey, ``Kakaji Safared so much in that movie...''). But Namak Haraam is different because (like Anand) it had Amitabh Bachchan, and (unlike Anand) he didn't have anything to do with Bengalis. And it also had this great scene that I'm gonna talk about.
The industrialist father orders his men to beat up Somu (Kakaji's character), because the latter has been screaming Union/Strike from the tallest tree. The deed is done, but the son (Amitabh Kya-Yeh-Aapka-Final-Answer-Hai Bachchan) finds out. He's mad at the dad, and if you are a dad, you don't want your son (especially if he's the Big B) to be mad at his dad. The father is played by a magaaaaaaaan yinsaan (literally, I guess, it would translate to great human, but that's not it at all!) - Om Shiv Puri. My brother and I refer to him as Genda Murgi (Genda - Rhino, Murgi - Chicken), and if you have seen him, you will know why. Anyway, so he's in the old office, which is dominated by this huge model ship (jahaaz) protected by a glass case.
Amitabh (aptly named Vicky, since he's the stereotypical Hindi movie rich kid) walks in, angry (yeah weren't those the days he was called the - suppress laughter - Angry Young Man?) at what his dad has done, and demands to know why his friend Somu was beaten up.... What would you do in such a situation? Well, here's what OSP does: calmly and very thoughtfully strokes the glass case, and says in a very intimate voice, ``Dekho yeh jahaaaaaaaaaz'' (See this ship)... and in that soft voice, continues to inform AB that the ship is a gift from Indonesia, constructed entirely of cloves.
Amitabh repeats his question.
OSP asks his son to look at the ship (dekho bete, yeh jahaaz) again, this time including the fact that the ship, the clove-sailors, the ropes, the oars involve delicate craftsmanship.
At this point, it would have been apt if, without waiting to ask Om Shiv Puri, ``Is that your final answer?'', Amitabh had bashed the glass case and the ship into tiny bite-sized pieces of clove, ready for inclusion in garam masala. We are, however, denied the spice-raising pleasure.
As I said, a lot of tact is required if you are trying to change the topic. OSP seemed not to have it in him, but don't let that tiny detail bother you. Your son ain't gonna be another Amitabh, right. So, go ahead, anytime you are in a situation where anyone asks you an uncomfortable question, reply with ``Dekho, bete, yeh jahaaaaaaz..'' We do. That was our mantra in the late '90s. It's also the name of this blog, in case you haven't noticed.
Not convinced it will work? Oh well. Can't say I didn't try. In that case, you can always go for the second technique. This method was employed quite efficiently by Naseeruddin Shah's character in Maalamaal, the Bollywood version of Brewster's Millions. What would you do if you were given thirty days to spend Rs. 30 crore, but were required to keep the reason for the expenditure (viz., you inherit ten times as much which you will immediately use to build a whole housing colony for your jhopadpatti friends) a secret from your best friends - and, cleverly including, any girl that might at the end of the film become your girlfriend? Here's what Naseeruddin Shah does. He spends the money as best as he can. Satish Shah and Poonam Dhillon (his friend and his soon to be girlfriend, in that order) keep asking him why the hell he's bent upon wasting his new-found wealth away.
Our friend Naseeruddin (who, in a movie two years prior to Maalamaal, immortalized his irritation over his crippled hand with the words - yeh haath!) doesn't use the dekho bete, yeh jahaaaaz routine. Instead, he simply and frankly tells the questioning friend and soon to be girlfriend that he will not feel comfortable discussing it with them, and all this with just one word: ``Pardaaaaaaa!'' (curtain)...
So go ahead, knock yourself out. Now you know how to deal with people (this from a person who feels really comfortable listening to robotic voices telling him what button to press, and visits online stores instead of having to deal with people and smiles and Hellos and Have A Good Days).
Our next lesson will be on how to build a cheap android.
But if you are still interested, let's go into the first piece of advice. Changing the topic. Let me give you the best example I know of.
The movie: Namak Haraam, a classic film from the '70s just before (or maybe during) the era of Unemployment Films. Why "classic"? Thanks to two magaan yinsaans. No, not Amitabh. Not Rekha. Rajesh Khanna? Oh hell no.
Story in brief: Class war comes between two close friends (jigri dost), one an industrialist's son and the other a son of the streets (if you can ever imagine Kakaji in a convincing role as the son of the streets, without that toothbrush moustache he had in Aaj Ka MLA Raam Avtar!). The motto of these movies was "the good guy is the dead guy", so the good guy was always Rajesh Khanna, developing Lymphosarcoma of the taint. Side effects may include perpetual 4 o'clock shadow, shawl overgrowth and the tendency to stay annoyingly cheery. I'm talking about movies like Anand, Amar Prem (well he didn't die in it, but he was in love with Sharmila Tagore, which is just as bad), Aaradhana, Safar (as Subroto quoted Javed Jaffrey, ``Kakaji Safared so much in that movie...''). But Namak Haraam is different because (like Anand) it had Amitabh Bachchan, and (unlike Anand) he didn't have anything to do with Bengalis. And it also had this great scene that I'm gonna talk about.
The industrialist father orders his men to beat up Somu (Kakaji's character), because the latter has been screaming Union/Strike from the tallest tree. The deed is done, but the son (Amitabh Kya-Yeh-Aapka-Final-Answer-Hai Bachchan) finds out. He's mad at the dad, and if you are a dad, you don't want your son (especially if he's the Big B) to be mad at his dad. The father is played by a magaaaaaaaan yinsaan (literally, I guess, it would translate to great human, but that's not it at all!) - Om Shiv Puri. My brother and I refer to him as Genda Murgi (Genda - Rhino, Murgi - Chicken), and if you have seen him, you will know why. Anyway, so he's in the old office, which is dominated by this huge model ship (jahaaz) protected by a glass case.
Amitabh (aptly named Vicky, since he's the stereotypical Hindi movie rich kid) walks in, angry (yeah weren't those the days he was called the - suppress laughter - Angry Young Man?) at what his dad has done, and demands to know why his friend Somu was beaten up.... What would you do in such a situation? Well, here's what OSP does: calmly and very thoughtfully strokes the glass case, and says in a very intimate voice, ``Dekho yeh jahaaaaaaaaaz'' (See this ship)... and in that soft voice, continues to inform AB that the ship is a gift from Indonesia, constructed entirely of cloves.
Amitabh repeats his question.
OSP asks his son to look at the ship (dekho bete, yeh jahaaz) again, this time including the fact that the ship, the clove-sailors, the ropes, the oars involve delicate craftsmanship.
At this point, it would have been apt if, without waiting to ask Om Shiv Puri, ``Is that your final answer?'', Amitabh had bashed the glass case and the ship into tiny bite-sized pieces of clove, ready for inclusion in garam masala. We are, however, denied the spice-raising pleasure.
As I said, a lot of tact is required if you are trying to change the topic. OSP seemed not to have it in him, but don't let that tiny detail bother you. Your son ain't gonna be another Amitabh, right. So, go ahead, anytime you are in a situation where anyone asks you an uncomfortable question, reply with ``Dekho, bete, yeh jahaaaaaaz..'' We do. That was our mantra in the late '90s. It's also the name of this blog, in case you haven't noticed.
Not convinced it will work? Oh well. Can't say I didn't try. In that case, you can always go for the second technique. This method was employed quite efficiently by Naseeruddin Shah's character in Maalamaal, the Bollywood version of Brewster's Millions. What would you do if you were given thirty days to spend Rs. 30 crore, but were required to keep the reason for the expenditure (viz., you inherit ten times as much which you will immediately use to build a whole housing colony for your jhopadpatti friends) a secret from your best friends - and, cleverly including, any girl that might at the end of the film become your girlfriend? Here's what Naseeruddin Shah does. He spends the money as best as he can. Satish Shah and Poonam Dhillon (his friend and his soon to be girlfriend, in that order) keep asking him why the hell he's bent upon wasting his new-found wealth away.
Our friend Naseeruddin (who, in a movie two years prior to Maalamaal, immortalized his irritation over his crippled hand with the words - yeh haath!) doesn't use the dekho bete, yeh jahaaaaz routine. Instead, he simply and frankly tells the questioning friend and soon to be girlfriend that he will not feel comfortable discussing it with them, and all this with just one word: ``Pardaaaaaaa!'' (curtain)...
So go ahead, knock yourself out. Now you know how to deal with people (this from a person who feels really comfortable listening to robotic voices telling him what button to press, and visits online stores instead of having to deal with people and smiles and Hellos and Have A Good Days).
Our next lesson will be on how to build a cheap android.
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