Cheating Life of Words

It has become dangerous to advertise a love for soft toys and all things cuddly, writes Dr Saumya Balsari in her column.

In the previous column, I wrote about individual words (like “tsunami” and “Sudan1”) and their overnight celebrity status. More often than not, a whole string of words put together in a title or a headline are manipulated to catch the eye. There was a bold heading yesterday: Student cuts off p---- after drinking tea. Naturally, I clicked on the link to find out more about his plight. It turned out the student from Germany had cut off his tongue as well, thereby making it a swift chop in both extremities. He had carried out the bizarre act using garden shears after drinking a tea made from hallucinogenic plants. Sadly, doctors could not re-attach the severed organs. Henceforth, life will feel somewhat empty for the young man, but there’s no saying how.

Another bold headline on a popular Indian news website informed me, 'Sunny bhaiyya loves soft toys!' Now, as any desi knows, while there is likely to be more than one Sunny in Southall, there are basically two famous Sunnys in India to whom this might refer: one a cricketer, the other a filmstar. I discovered the article was about Abhay Deol, the latest of the clan to enter Bollywood, and a cousin of the sons of Dharmendra, Sunny and Bobby Deol. The actor talked about his upcoming film, future plans, and family at some length, only briefly mentioning his famous cousins. His concluding line about Sunny Deol was: “He loves soft toys and is afraid of injections!"

The misleading headline apart, there is something about the public announcement that makes us commoners actually thank our stars we aren’t famous. I can almost hear the taunts, “Wimp!” , “Wuss”, and “Big Girl’s Blouse!” from the school playground. It has also become somewhat dangerous to advertise a love for soft toys and all things cuddly. Look at what’s happening to Michael Jackson.

Then there are spam email headlines to catch the eye on a busy day. Here’s one I received today: Next-door housewife waiting for you! That was puzzling, as my British neighbour only nods and never speaks. Why would she be waiting for me, except to move out of the street? The link speedily explained why she would never invite me round for tea and ginger biscuits. The text gushed with four exclamation marks (and a number of grammatical and spelling errors) and informed there were “real Lonely Cheating Housewifes” out there. I could join a huge database of “next door’s housewives”. I couldn’t quite discern whether I was being invited to be one myself, or to sign up for a sampling. At any rate, I was assured I wouldn’t be “disappointed”, and urged to “just try”.

The trick with cheating words is to be cleverer than they are.

(Saumya Balsari is the author of the comic novel 'The Cambridge Curry Club', and wrote a play for Kali Theatre Company's Futures last year. She has worked as a freelance journalist in London, and is currently writing a second novel.)