Art of flattery

My mother and my brother decided to have a bit of a house warming party (that was supposedly a barbecue party) last night, where a total of 12 (or was it 13?) women ogled me (needless to mention about men from the party cause they did'nt bugged me down). Saying it was slightly uncomfortable is definitely putting it mildly. In fact, saying that I was like a fish out of water is not only the understatement of the century, it's actually kinda like saying Michael Jackson is a freak and expecting someone out there to disagree with you.

Anyway, after I was asked around five times what I'm studying and/or what college I go to (I am doing post graduated now, people, but I don't blame them, thanks to the aforementioned fish-out-of-water vibe I was letting off, coupled with what I am sure is a look of petrified fear on my face), after explaining around 12 times what I am studying (beats me), imagine my condition explaining those ogled freaks what biochemistry exactly is... anyway, after having my waist measured by approximately four pairs of hands accompanied by shrieking exclamations of OH MY GOD YOU HAVE LOST SO MUCH WEIGHT LOOK AT YOU, YOU ARE FINALLY PRETTY,!!! (WHAT? you must be blind or something!), getting cornered by exactly three women LOUDER THAN ME CAN YOU BELIEVE IT, who seemed to have a strange interest in my future and their overwhelming curiosity as to when am going to marry(huh??) and listening to maybe seven pointless jokes about how it must have been me who made every one of the dishes weighing down the dining table despite my assurances that I hate parties like these where you'll be cut to throat with loads of work, and finally, after carrying all their scraped-clean plates and glasses back and forth to the kitchen something like 4781357183 times, they finally herded themselves out and were on their merry way, leaving us with plenty of yummy leftovers. I was totally fine with it all, I grabbed a plate of left overs and watched Bird on a wire, which, I think, is one of the best movies ever, but anyway....I digress.

Ten minutes after they had left, my mom grinned at me and exclaimed, "Everyone said my daughter is so pretty! Everyone told me I have a pretty daughter!"

And I'm thinking to myself, ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?!?! Like, dear mother of mine, what did you EXPECT them to say?? Even if your daughter had a harelip, was cross-eyed, sported green and stank to high heaven, they would still shower you with flattery and say Mashallah and call me pretty - what else are they going to say?!??! This is NOT a compliment to be trusted. They told you that you have a pretty daughter, sure, but in the same breath, they also said that you have a pretty home, that the sheek kabab is great, and that the tandoori chicken is magnificent. And let's be serious here - the sheek kabab was SO NOT GREAT.

I couldn't help but think of our inherent need to flatter everyone we meet, left, right and centre. Not to mention a conversation I had with a friend only yesterday, about how taken we are, as a culture, with showering each other with insincere compliments. It's constant. "I love your bag, is that new?" "Oh what a nice car, such a great colour!" "Your T-shirt is so cool, I love it!" Etc Etc...

Damn, man! If it wasn't for Bird on a wire, I don't know WHAT I would have done.

PS: If you didn't watch Bird on wire. Go and get it! Its an awesome movie. Or may be it made me felt that way because am a big fan of Mel Gibson.