The queen of malapropisms is back in our midst, with the third iteration of the chatty outpourings of the Social Butterfly, whose carefully curated gossip is, if you look hard, nothing but a sharp send-up of people, policies and lifestyles.
ALSO READ Butterfly with a sting
In this book, Butterfly throws shade on a lot of things and people: the Lahore Lit Fest, with all the befuddlement of one who doesn’t read; the knee-jerk tendency of her country’s government to ban anything and everything; Rahul Gandhi, who didn’t sweep away the full election but got to retain his seat of Methi; the Pakistani fauj and their sidekicks, the ISI; Imran Khan, over and over again; designer dogs like Choo Hahas; Asif Zardari who thinks he is King Looey building a Ver Sigh ka palace.
Sitting in her tony (but of course) ‘mention’ in Lahore, respectful of the khaata peetas, disdainful of Pakistan’s former First Lady, the smooth sayer Pinky Peerni, patronising of the poors, Butterfly trains her Meow Meow sunglasses on everything she deems worthy of discussion. Her Oxen-type hapless husband who studied at Brazen Nose College, is just one in a line-up of stuff that ‘flapperghasts’ her, that includes Bill Gate, North Korya, Hannibal Lecture from Silence of the Lamps, the generically mollified rats of Peshawar.
Sharp wit
Among the few who get unbridled appreciation from her are SRK (‘we all love him’) and Shobha Day, she of the good jeans, as well as Malala who won the Noble Cup. A moving tribute to Asma Jahangir and a mock nostalgia piece on marshall law are especially sharp and funny.
Butterfly’s Indian friends might be the uber-wealthy of our country, with properties in Mumbai, Goa, New York, those prone to fleeing home shores in their jets when COVID-19 peaks here, but the underlying message is clear: that Indians and Pakistanis are basically humsayas (neighbours), trying their best to ford their political and economic morass, the autumn smock (smog), and suchlike.
In one droll passage, she says: ‘Some Indians… on Facebook are saying kay haw, if we don’t watch out, we will also become like Pakistan. I think so they mean they will also start carrying leather kay Birkings and listening to Ghulam Ali’s ghazals, producing fast bowlers… Chalo, it might make a pleasant change from thanking Moody all the time.’
The reviewer is a Bengaluru-based author, journalist and manuscript editor.
Between You, Me & the Four Walls
Moni Mohsin
Penguin India
₹299
222 pages
