the who’s who

Yesterday the mid week drag was broken by the scandalous lady who had apparently got rid of whom everyone thought was her sister, and later turned out to be her daughter.

A sordid tale began to unfold involving 3 husbands two wives 5 marriages, 5 children, 2 grandparents , one driver, and a murder. The media cannot get enough of it and frankly we couldn’t either. (For all those abroad refer to the  curious case of  Indrani Mukherjea). As the events keep unraveling, the story gets murkier and murkier. Fact is indeed stranger than fiction, and this case puts every bold and beautiful devious maid or desperate housewife whether from Beverly Hills 90210 or Santa Barbara, a run for her money.

I watched the news late  into the night the views shared by the lady in question’s friends and associates. While she was very much a part of the swish elite nobody could really say they knew her. The man who witnessed his dear friend’s, first introduction to the charming lady , and has been a friend of the couple didn’t really have much to share about her as a person.

A ‘friend’ of the couple, did i say a friend? Social Climbers have long since been a part of  every society. The opening up of  markets and media have given birth to a new generation of socialites, mostly a set of nuveau riche, who feel the need to flaunt. I never really understood why people would suck up to others, the big description being, “i want to get to know him because he’s worth a few million!” In a world where such is the criteria for friendship expecting depth would be a folly. This was once a small part of our society has grown and spread encompassing it’s members who we all refer to as the ‘who’s who’.

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These days we are not viewed as people anymore, it’s more likely that your new friend can tell you exactly how much you are worth,you to him  are merely a stepping stone, that he may use to get further in life. Bombay-Times-Newspaper-Ad-RatesBuilding contacts is the main reason for ‘friendships’ these days in many a circles. Dropping contacts happens faster than making them sometimes in this fickle world where infidelity is a done thing. A flashy car, some baubles, a big arm breaking  bag, complete with loud logos is all one needs to be a part of the social elite. A well toned body for ladies would help too. A pretence of being extremely busy, and also the most harassed mother, and boss to maids and drivers is a must too.Gents must drop names, and travel a number of times a year.I remember someone saying to me, he ‘needed to fly business class’ so that he would meet the ‘right ‘ kind of people, and i always wondered , what if the fellow passenger had the same idea exactly (Mr.faux meet Mr.faux hahahahah). Everyone here is looking to become an overnight millionaire. Remember Bombay Times, page 3 is where one’s picture simply had to feature. People began to pay for their photographs to appear in the paper. This catapulted them into the heart and onto the guest lists of the elitist crowds, where every night was a party. Where the who’s who rub shoulders with each other ! Where best friends (alliances) are formed over drinks overnight .

I’m guessing it was a bunch of such ‘friends’ who got together the night Indrani set her sights on her husband to be. Where no one felt it strange that he walked out of the pub with her, leaving his friend to drop his then girlfriend home. In a society where outward appearances matter the most, they were the perfect match. The lady who has so many friends and is on the list of many a party host is indeed one that noone can claim to have truly known.

Now with an ugly murder, a cupboard full of skeletons pouring out, the who’s who speculate as to who is really who?

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