Telling a good story

I’m tired of people in every sphere of life telling me, in voices gushing with excitement, how wonderful the internet is and how it has made life easier in every way. But it has not. Take the subject of party conversations for example. In the halcyon pre-internet era I found it very easy to hold audiences spellbound on topics that I had only a vague knowledge about and others on which I knew nothing.

For example, I clearly remember one dinner I attended in that splendid period before www.something invaded our lives. A few days before the dinner, I had watched a television programme about the meat-eating customs in different countries and was keen to share some insights with my friends.

“In China,” I declared, “they eat frog legs.”

“Wow!” said someone. Others gathered around me to listen, the topic having piqued their interest.

“Yes, they do,” said Ganesh Subramanian with an air of authority. “In Thailand too…”

“They also eat snakes in China.” I said sharply. Having introduced the topic and secured attention, I was not going to let it be hijacked. “In fact, they not only eat snakes, they drink their blood.”

I smiled to myself as Ganesh closed his mouth and others opened theirs. This was obviously something new to all of them.

“They believe the blood is a potent aphrodisiac,” I continued. People drew closer, mouths opened wider and words like ‘Wow!’, ‘Fascinating’ and ‘Disgusting’ were muttered.

Now, having watched the television programme a few days ago and that too without full concentration, I was a little vague about the topic beyond what I had just said but I was not going to let that stop me from continuing, not when everyone was hanging on to my words.

“There are snake-speciality restaurants in China,” I said confidently. “All sorts of snakes are displayed in somnolent state in glass bottles, one snake per bottle. A caption in front describes each snake’s vintage: its age; which region it inhabits; the quantity and quality of its blood; the names of ancient Chinese kings who, according to legend, have been especially fond of this particular species’ blood; and its price. Once you choose a snake – obviously picking a size based on the number of people in your group – a waiter brings it in a large bowl to your table, gives each of you a straw one-centimetre in diameter and then makes a deep cut in the snake. Everyone dips their straw inside and sucks. When you’ve finished drinking, the waiter takes away the snake and brings it back in 30 minutes, cut and sautéed, for your dinner.”

The audience was captivated. As a buzz went around the room, I smiled modestly.

“They eat dogs in Korea,” declared Ganesh Subramanian. People turned to him, their curiosity aroused. I joined them, acknowledging it was legitimately his turn now.

The Koreans-eat-dogs story was riveting and Ganesh told it well. In fact it had such potential that I was compelled to add a finishing touch when he was done.

“In fact,” I said, “The phrase BYB (bring your booze) we use for parties actually originated in Korea with BYD: bring your dog.” Was this true? I had no idea, but it sounded logical. And it certainly got everyone’s attention.

I did not limit my repertoire to non-vegetarianism in those days. I would pontificate on a variety of topics, like the dire consequences of waking up a sleepwalker (unless done with the slow beat of a Congo drum), the right way to walk on the moon and the real story behind the rivalry between Shah Rukh Khan and Aamir Khan. And I was not the only one doing this. All around me there were “experts” sharing knowledge confidently on subjects like science, sociology, cricket and the anatomy of the human body.

Yes, those were the wonderful days before the internet. Fast forward to today. Just a few days ago I was at a party and the topic of strange eating habits of different people came up. Aha! I thought, I can offer some scintillating titbits here.

“They eat snakes in China,” I said. People gathered around me. Experiencing a warm glow of déjà vu I continued, “Yes, and they drink its blood too.” Hearing murmurs of approval, I gathered steam. “Snake-speciality restaurants in China display snakes in glass bottles, with a caption in front…”

“That’s not true!” In shock I turned to Vijay Shenoy, the man who had so rudely interrupted me. He was looking down at his mobile phone and appeared to be reading from it.

“I Googled ‘snake-eating in China’ while you were speaking,” he said. “It says here that in actual fact…”

It appeared that snake-consumption in China was not quite like I was describing. I could have switched topics and told them what happens when you wake up a sleepwalker but there was no way that story would get past Vigilant Vijay. So I cursed him and sat quietly, reflecting about how the wretched internet has robbed us of the simple pleasure of telling a good story.