Whoever dies with the most toys wins the game! Consumer-crazed Americans live with this motto. Thirty years of teaching economics and computer science at the prestigious Duke University; introducing e-business to capital markets; advising Fortune 500 companies on investment strategies eventually soured Professor Thomas Naylor’s view of the American dream. So he sat down and co-authored a book called Affluenza — the All-Consuming Epidemic. Chucking his cushy life, Naylor moved out to picturesque Vermont — the only state that forbids billboards — in search of simplicity and communal bliss.
Affluenza became an instant bestseller in 2002.
The term recently resurfaced in America when a rich teenager, spoilt rotten by his mother, killed four people in a drunken-driving accident. His lawyer pleaded that Ethan Couch, 16, “suffered from affluenza” and needed rehabilitation instead of prison. Despite killing four people and injuring five other, the killer-kid got off lightly. The judge merely put Couch on a 10-year probation.
In another continent, at another time and space, in another bestseller, here’s a quote that is just the opposite of affluenza: “At the peak of my career, I was once travelling by plane. The passenger next to me was elderly. Dressed in a simple shirt and pant, he appeared middle class but well educated. Other passengers kept glancing at me. But this gentleman appeared unconcerned. He read his newspaper, looked out of the window, and when tea came, he sipped it quietly. Trying to strike a conversation, I smiled. The man courteously smiled back and said hello. We got talking and I brought the subject to cinema and asked, ‘Do you watch films?’ The man replied, ‘Oh, very few. I did see one many years ago.’ I mentioned that I worked in films myself. The man said, ‘Oh, that’s nice. What do you do?’ I replied, “I am an actor.” The man nodded, ‘Oh, wonderful.’ That was it. When we landed, I held out my hand and said, ‘It was good to travel with you. By the way, my name is Dilip Kumar.’ The man shook my hand and smiled, ‘Thank you. I am J.R.D. Tata’.
A former politician literally raises the roof at Dr Shahid Mahmood’s dental clinic demanding immediate attention. “These wealthy people come to me demanding state of the art dentistry,” says the doctor, “but when it comes to paying, they give me cheques that bounce. I have a whole pile of them lying in my drawer.”
Chairman of Tata & Sons for 50 years, J.R.D. Tata was India’s first pilot who launched Air India as its first international airline.
Next door, Pakistan is under a full attack of affluenza. A former VIP literally raises the roof at the clinic of dental surgeon Dr Shahid Mahmood who is hard at work drilling my errant tooth. His assistant Tehmina comes rushing in and whispers something in the doctor’s ear. “Tell the X senator to make an appointment. I can’t attend to him right away,” says the doctor. He then addresses me: “These people come to me demanding state of the art dentistry, but when it comes to payment, they give me cheques that bounce. I have a whole pile of them lying in my drawer.” Indeed, Dr Mahmood has the latest X-ray and laser equipment, but “these so-called elites quibble with me when I charge them rates according to the cutting edge technology I offer.”
Who are the elites? The frustrated dentist continues, as I lie with both my jaws wide open. He answers himself: anyone who is uber rich falls in this category; never mind if he or she is semi-illiterate, as long as this class has money, nothing else matters.
Another friend has just returned from a belated Valentine’s Day party, better known as a glorified ‘committee party’. These soirees are the rage all over Islamabad. Large groups of middle-aged women dressed in red head to toe, newly purchased for the event, trot about with fancy hairdos, streaked and dyed blonde hair, high-heeled red shoes and red bags. The bags and shoes are all branded: Louis Vuitton, Prada and Salvatore Ferragamo. And mind you — all in flaming red! The haute cuisine is catered from an expensive five-star hotel.
So what exactly is a ‘committee party’? The women pool in money in thousands each month — it can be as high as a million rupees or even more. “Why do they need to have a committee when they are so affluent?” comments my friend. “Perhaps it’s an excuse to socialise, visit exotic homes, gossip, show off their jewels and luxurious wardrobe and, of course, dig into gourmet dishes.” At one of the Valentine’s Day parties, some grand entertainment is thrown in with dhol beaters and ghazal singers for the women to clap, sway and sing along. Even dance!
Ah! The wondrous world of designer bags and shoes! Remember our former foreign minister Hina Rabbani Khar’s classic black Birkin bag by Hermès she proudly sported around during a trip to India, sending the Indian press into a wild tizzy! Wrote one disgusted blogger: “Before you brush me aside as a hater, let me clarify that I am a big supporter of well-groomed women (what’s wrong with being hot?). But was it really necessary for a minister from a poor, corruption-stricken country to brandish a limited edition bag that boasts luxury and probably costs somewhere between $10,000-$15,000?”
It’s the wedding season. Guests sit under marquees in the green belts where wedding halls mushroom. Organised by event managers who charge an arm and a leg to decorate the space with acres of fresh gladiolas and tuberoses, a thousand bulbs glitter from oversized crystal chandeliers hanging from the tents. Here comes the bride, dressed in a multi-million glittering gown with the mom and mom-in-law, each competing with their show of wealth. Top notch beauty parlours earn millions making up the bride. This sure is money down the drain considering the bride must wash her face before going to bed.
For the idle rich lads zooming around the capital in their pricey cars, their cheap thrill is to rev up the car’s engine to a deafening decibel level of noise. Not once, but for hours they go in circular motion making the life of all around hell! When I complain to a DSP standing near by, he says that these boys have a button installed in the car that they turn off when they see a cop. So the police is helpless against this criminal activity carried on regularly by the affluenza kids.
One gets flu shots to keep influenza away; no genius has so far emerged to invent an injection against affluenza. It is an epidemic that has no cure.
