When fake is real

It must have been 2003 or thereabouts that we arrived in Delhi and needed a taxi. By then, seat belts for front seats in cars had become compulsory, and the law was being enforced. We got in at the back, and the driver got in and began to drive.

‘But where’s your seatbelt? I asked—a little hesitantly because we didn’t know what he would say. “Arey haan!” he said, stopped the car, took out a belt-looking thing, slung it on his shoulder, and drove on. “This is my belt,” he said, daring us to question him. We didn’t.

The no-belt belt, we discovered, is actually sold in shops. The idea of safety is remote and not meant to be taken seriously. The seatbelt, like all fake things, is powerful, cheap, and so convincingly easy to use.

Sham has found a house across the world.

The television show Shark Tank features very wealthy, successful entrepreneurs, usually five, who listen to pitches from people selected to make them. The people who pitch their product must persuade one or more of the entrepreneurs to invest in and expand their business. In one such episode, a woman pitches what she calls a “skinny mirror.” What it does is reflect a very slim version of you. The woman says it calls upon the large number of those who dream, desperately, of seeing themselves as thin, giving a boost to their self-image and thus their confidence. The entrepreneurs are listening but are clearly uncomfortable and express their doubts. But Kevin O’Leary has none, and he bursts out emphatically with his signature glare: “I will not be part of this (Skinny Mirror) sham. The truth is, you’re lying to people. I’m out, and I forbid any of the others to make you an offer!”

Kevin is talking about deception, but deception is a strong word. So does sham work in degrees? Is there a sham that is sort of okay? Is, for example, a pretend bookshelf with mock pages and leather-bound spines—not, of course, the kind understandably used in films—acceptable in a no-harm-done sense? Similarly, book-digests which present contemporary books in a capsular form, with talking points, so that one can talk about them in a forum where the membership is of the well-read.

In the 1990s, deft-fingered office workers using computers pressed something called a “boss” button if the boss was prowling around. So if you were on Facebook or watching football (or worse), the boss button would bring the screen back to good stuff.

In the scale of things, what is the starting point of serious sham-ness?