Being free & PC in an age of cancel culture

Indu Balachandran’s incontrovertible take on being “socially acceptable” is all about not being blunt but passing a remark or two that wouldn’t insult or marginalise groups defined by gender, colour, ethnicity, or sexual orientation

The other day I attended a fabulous PC party. No, not a Priyanka Chopra party, thrown by her darling Nick, but a Politically Correct party where conversations followed modern-day sensibilities.

I set off with a resolve that I would offend no one: man, woman or the broad area in between. It was my charming host Ka — technically a male, but with a non-gender specific name — who set the tone for me, as I entered the room full of representatives from certain upper echelons (it would be crass to call them high society types).

Ka welcomed me with a socially distanced elbow tap and exclaimed: “You seem to have increased your metabolic rate,” complimenting me no doubt on my recent weight loss. What a fine way to publicly acknowledge my efforts at slimness, without it being a personal remark on my body type. “And you have the appearance of a pre-adult with your professionally rearranged hair,” I gushed, observing his boyish Mohawk haircut.

I grabbed a drink, a non-fruit pulp one, and began to circulate. Aha! I could spot Maya, who I heard had recently reverted to a pre-marital status following differences with her partner Madhav. Well, I had to admit Maya looked optically pleasant. Could it be that she was mammary-enhanced by a cosmetic surgeon? Especially now that she was pre-married again and on the lookout for an opposite-gendered heterosexual.

My good friend Rana walked towards me. Rana is a well-informed news disseminator (Rana never gossips I assure you) and gave me a brief background on Maya’s status. “The trouble began when she couldn’t stand her partner’s nasal patterns during sleep…” he whispered. Wow, this was the first time I heard of ‘snoring’ being described so sensitively. Rana drifted off towards Maya to perhaps further his chances of a relationship. I saw him nervously patting his balding hairline…I apologise. I saw him patting his follicular-challenged upper forehead. Who knows, before the night ended, he may have begun an ad-hoc social alliance with Maya. Meanwhile, I spotted an interesting diversion: Danny and Jay had just entered the party. Together. Judging by the proximity of their physiques, I instantly ratified unconfirmed reports of their same-gender relationship. Danny, a femininely-inclined Hair Maestro and Jay, a gym-enhanced Complexion Rebuilding Artiste had met during a Bollywood awards show and were now cohabiting in the same house.

“When may I realign your hair to characterise current trends?” Danny politely offered without in any way stating that my current blunt cut was old-fashioned. Well, he had certainly realigned his partner Jay’s hair brilliantly: multi-tinted and gelled and gleaming.

“ I like your new stud,” I told Danny. His look of alarm soon vanished when he realised I was referring to his shiny ear adornment, not his new partner. “Yes, isn’t it distinctive? It was purse-depleting but so worth it.”

I chatted up another chiffon-appointed acquaintance Ms Moitra, who didn’t look at all like she had entered her seventh decade. Her flashing smile indicated alternate dentation (false teeth is such a crude thing to say).

Wait. At the far end I could see a minor argu…er, I could see a difference of opinion going on between Shobhaa and a distraught gentleman. So I floated towards Shobhaa to casually listen in… It was Sam Nathan! Not Sambashivan Ranganathan as he was originally named, but Nay-thun as they say in New Jersey. He was exclaiming in his newly acquired American speech pattern: “I tried caarling you to tell you about my sudden engagement, Shobhaa honey, I reeely reeely did!” According to an informal research project, Nathan had returned from the US education enhanced but had succumbed to family pressures and broken off with Sheilaa, a Goan ‘womyn’ who was raised on Christ’s teachings. Nathan, however, was a descendant of a sacred-thread wearing community from South India. “Taurus excretus!” declared Shobhaa, storming away. Perhaps a Latin phrase to replace the unrefined expression ‘bullshit’ — that may offend the farming community? I hurried away, thinking what a born-out-of-wedlock person Nathan was. I also accidentally overheard along the way that the morally impaired Tony, who despite being married to my good friend Payal, was sharing time in a prostrate position with a lady from the service sector. Now it’s very incorrect of you to assume I am a nosy parker; I just happen to be someone with an avid interest in the human condition.

And so I passed my time at this fruitful social networking programme and finally went home in a cab, as I was experiencing a feel-good factor of being liquid-imbibed!

(He said/She said is a monthly column on gender issues — funny side up. The author switched to a career in advertising/writing as world markets may have collapsed if she ever became an economist. Reach her at [e-mail])