Seething. Sexy. Scintillating. Seething with jay — “oho baba jealousy” — sexier than any pair of Miu Miu — “oho baba…Moo Moo” — heels and as scintillating as a gossip session, so wicked its participants would give Balaji Telefilms a million more frosty saas bahu storylines, Moni Mohsin’s Tender Hooks is no mean feat of delicious voyeurism. After the rip-roaring success of Diary of a Social Butterfly, the author has come to fully understand that subtly dressing the war ravages of Pakistan in a romp of loud, zany and traditional humour is what readers in this part of the ethnic divide crave to help them make sense of the macabre times they live in. With each chapter beginning with a date and a breaking headline snippet of the political-social morass fracturing the country at that particular time, Moni Mohsin sets the tone for a book that bites but does so with fangs neatly hidden behind vampish red lips that take a juicy nibble out of urban sensibilities.
Lahore’s busiest social butterfly is back, but this time she finds herself in a Hyderabadi pickle if ever there was one. With cousin Jonkers firmly out of the badly manicured clutches of Shumaila, the “aik number ki chaloo cheez” wife from lowly “bagground” hell, Butterfly has to muster her courage, charms and “kitty” connections to find a suitable match for Jonkers, a match that will make his mother, Aunty Pussy, proud. Trouble is, Aunty Pussy has a few ideas of her own; money, social standing, money, good looks, money, exceptional “bagground” and some more money. Except, Jonkers has his own idea of a soul mate, one who thinks with her mind and not her clutch. Needless to say, Butterfly has her work cut out for her: finding a suitable bride in the maze of deceitful vipers of the upper crust’s single parade, dealing with her Abu Dhabi-bound “sex mad” maid Jameela, keeping Aunty Pussy’s evil eye away from her son — dear, darling Kulchoo — who suffered a “con cushion” because of it, proving to her “Oxen” (Oxford University educated) husband Janoo that she is not as “supercilious” as he likes to think she is, juggling her daily dose of tell-all gossip with friends Mulloo and Sunny and making sure her “Jimmy Shoes” are as pointed as the conversation, it is all in a day’s work for Butterfly.
From wedding parties of the “BNM — Big New Money”, to lunches with the “cummaytee” girls, to Kinnaird College, there is no stone left unturned in finding Jonkers and his mummy the perfect girl. Who would have thought the tea trolley culture employed to find that perfect match could backfire so brutally and ridiculously as it does in Tender Hooks? From gender orientation gone awry to religious fundamentalist “powder pashas” to falling in love with the “DVD wallah”, the single and ready to mingle crowd is enough to make one shudder in their Louboutins. However, there are some moments in the book that provide a rare glimpse into those fleeting moments of introspection that catch the well heeled off guard. There comes a time when Butterfly, too, sees the inanities of her ways, the temporary relief a new bag, facial, “Manish Malhotra jora” and a pair of diamond earrings from “Goldsmith” will afford, and the sedated isolation the lifestyles of those who are so far removed from the structural basics of their country will throw their way. Butterfly has her own epiphany right in the middle of Jonkers’ self-discovery, which, in its own way, is a beautiful thing: grounding, real and touching.
Written in the same vein as Diary of a Social Butterfly, the book satirises the gilt-edged materialism of Pakistani society’s elite and pokes fun at every one of those kitty aunties who think knock-offs of this season’s “Prado” and “Goochy” bags are more detrimental for national security than the suicide bombers running amok across the land. Moni Mohsin does not hide her smug disdain for the rich and ridiculous but she brings their ‘simple’ pleasures out in a way that you cannot help but fall in stupefied love with the protagonists. The book is filled with anecdotes that make you laugh so hard that, for a moment, you may just fluster for losing your manners in the presence of the crème de la crème of the highbrowed. Moni Mohsin’s ability to throw comic hand grenades when you least expect them have made her an indisputable funny woman, giving us ‘little folk’ a chance to jab some fun at the upper classes. Tender Hooks, while playing to the ‘it’ crowd, maliciously and affectionately peels away the crumbling layers of cracking face powder that has been slapped across the face of our elite to reveal the voluptuous idiocy and faint humanity of the aristocracy.
The reviewer is an Assistant Editor at Daily Times. She can be reached at [email protected]