Hindustan Times - Brunch

Befriendin­g the red-faced beast

When embarrassm­ent strikes, it’s best to recover quickly and enjoy the blush

- REHANA MUNIR rehanamuni­r@gmail.com Follow @rehana_munir on Twitter and Instagram

There’s this episode of Friends where Rachel boasts about not getting easily embarrasse­d. (Which leads to Ross drawing a beard and moustache on her face while on an airplane, and them getting drunkenly married in Vegas. But I digress.) I don’t know many people who’d make a similar boast. Embarrassm­ent is one of those annoying and useless emotions that trips up even the most self-assured among us—a psychologi­cal banana skin that we regularly slip on along the desired path to an unflappabl­y zen state of being.

Which way to the Qutub Minar?

I’ve encountere­d more than my fair share of banana skins over the years. It’s quite embarrassi­ng how many of these memories of embarrassm­ent come flooding back as I write this. There was this work trip in Hyderabad where, on a rare evening off, I asked the guard at my swank hotel for directions to the Qutub Minar. “Charminar,” I checked myself after an epic stare. “Any landmark?”

I asked him, unstoppabl­y. “Charminar,” he replied, to my eternal humiliatio­n.

Then there was the time that I vigorously waved in the direction of my sister at a Hard Rock Café, directing her to our table. The wave was, however, intercepte­d by Subhash Ghai, who walked over to me, pretending to know who I was. Just the other day at the airport, a restaurate­ur I barely know graciously invited me to the launch of a new restaurant. Pleasantri­es exchanged, I walked hastily towards my boarding gate, chucking the remnants of a sandwich into the bin. A few steps on, I realised I’d thrown away my boarding pass as well (not the first time). I walked over casually to the bin, fished out my boarding pass and turned around, only to see the restaurate­ur smiling awkwardly at me.

The unflappabl­e Ms. Lawrence

How do you explain away something as banal, yet legitimate­ly incriminat­ing, as this? In such situations, I err on the side of enigma. Let the gentleman wonder as to why I rummage through airport trash. Far worse to anxiously explain how my brain is absent-minded enough to do an absurd thing, yet alert enough to realise what I’ve done just a moment later. My ample experience in the area has taught me that there isn’t just one right way to deal with embarrassm­ent. You need to play every slip of the tongue or foot on merit, cheekily owning some missteps, charmingly distancing oneself from others.

Jennifer Lawrence is a good role model for us perennial slipperupp­ers. To fall flat on your face while walking up to collect an Oscar is worthy of its own award. But Ms. Lawrence—with her disarming bashfulnes­s—somehow made the move aspiration­al. Wardrobe malfunctio­ns are one of those occurrence­s that celebs seem to take in their stride in a manner that I find truly commendabl­e; in real life, they tend to trigger endless waves of remorse. (Remember that scene in Friends where Rachel’s bridesmaid’s gown is mortifying­ly stuck in her underwear at her ex-boyfriend’s wedding? How not to digress?)

Befriendin­g the beast

Things get way more complicate­d when embarrassm­ent has less to do with one’s appearance than one’s thoughts. Who here hasn’t sent a nasty chat message to its subject rather than its intended recipient? On one memorable occasion, the victim of my misdirecte­d missive was standing right in front of me. I judge them for still having me in their life. And then there’s the embarrassm­ent of wrong-naming someone. (“I take thee, Rachel”—from the one where Ross marries Emily—simply has to be mentioned.)

Now that we’ve wrapped up another Christmas, and the Boxing Day Ashes encounter is filling in the time before New Year’s Eve, we can begin to think of resolution­s. I’m going to give this embarrassm­ent thing some serious thought. We face it everywhere and often, and yet haven’t made any attempts at befriendin­g the beast. It’s time to confess to our tacky pleasures without fear of judgement from the aesthetica­lly superior. To wear our awkwardnes­s like a clumsy badge of humanity, a shield against those forever chasing, and catching up with, excellence. If one absolutely must go red-faced with embarrassm­ent, it’s best to recover and enjoy the blush. When life gives you a banana peel,

turn it into a face mask.

IT’S TIME TO CONFESS TO OUR TACKY PLEASURES WITHOUT FEAR OF JUDGEMENT FROM THE AESTHETICA­LLY SUPERIOR

 ?? ?? THAT’S AWKWARD
It's time to embrace the cringe of that useless, psychologi­cal banana skin, embarrassm­ent
THAT’S AWKWARD It's time to embrace the cringe of that useless, psychologi­cal banana skin, embarrassm­ent
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