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‘Small is beautiful’ became the mantra about the same time that big became the norm in the US. Small talk, not to be confused with smart talk, is considered boring and has earned scant respect among the cognoscenti as it serves no purpose except for two people to pass time while waiting for something deemed important, like a lecture or a gala event.
Small talk is defined as polite conversation about unimportant things among strangers who do not know one another nor are interested in each other, which is generally the scenario at parties. My friend Maria avoids parties altogether because she cannot make small talk and is a social flop. While Anusha is the very opposite and has slain many a gathering of socialites with her ease at small talk.
The other day, when I expressed my secret fear of not having a shred of thought to get by when introduced to some stranger, Anusha gave me a look and clicked her tongue. ‘You are not the only one,’ she said. ‘I used to be shy and tongue-tied in the beginning until, watching the others, I got the hang of it. I just say whatever comes into my head; no deep stuff, you understand? All piffles and truffles Foolish? Who cares? In fact, you have to be foolish if you want to succeed. Tongue-tied is considered social gauche. People want to drink, eat, and make an exit. The profound soothsayers stay at home, wearing sackcloth and drinking water; the partygoers are all flashily dressed, all flibberty gibbets, all in small talk mode.’
‘Small talk, you know, I am not into at all,’ I confessed.
Anu smiled, ‘You say it as though it’s some kind of drug. Well, it is in a way.'
I felt totally dejected. I wanted to know about celebrities. She made a face and said, ‘Never approach a celebrity unless you yourself are one. I have had some bad encounters. But you too can do it. After all, you are not a hopeless case.’ She continued, ‘Next time I go to a party, you tag along. You will learn a trick or two if you keep a close watch. And you will be totally at ease at any party.’
I went soon after to a community puja, where I was introduced to this very nice doctor’s family from Periyar.
Periyar. I remembered having read a couple of newspaper reports about the havoc being perpetrated by a herd of elephants in and around the nearby villages. Indeed, the pachyderms loomed large in my mind as I tried to break the ice. The lesson that I had learned was ‘say anything that comes to your head.’ I simply bared my teeth and shot at the serious-looking doctor, ‘Well, and how are the elephants behaving these days?' I felt foolish the moment I said it. The doctor had turned to his child. Small talk about elephantine havoc did leave a bad taste all around.