“AND amidst us we have, as Chief Guest of today’s function, Aasawari Shenolikar, who has very kindly agreed to grace the occasion,” the anchorstated. I,sittingon thedais, smilingly acknowledged theMasterofCeremony, and gracefully accepted the sapling that was presented to me. But the thought running through my mind was, “Ah! Here we go again.” I knew exactly what was coming next - because after attending innumerable functions - some as a Guest, a few as one among the many spectators - I sort of knew the MC’s address by heart.Barring a few expressions, everything generally follows the same discourse.“Took time off from her busy schedule.” They don’t know for sure whether I am really super busy in the office, or am binge watching Net flix at home,orup dating my LinkedIn everyday as it becomes mandatory to show to the world all the functions you have so humbly presided over. But the minute someone approaches with an invite, the response is always, “Let me check my calendar.” Now, that’s the most clichéd statement - the calendar, in my case, for most part is empty. But I cannot show over enthusiasm at being invited.

 

Of course, after a couple of days, it’s always a “I had to juggle things a bit, adjust my schedule,” to which the host exults, “It will be such a privilege to have you preside over the function.” How noble, I think. Noble!?? Later, I, in my speech, always make it a point to gush, “It’s such a privilege to be here with you all today. It’s an honour to be in the presence of such esteemed company.” Now esteemed company could range from a local individual who has just stepped into the realm of political arena and is attempting very hard to make a mark for himself, or students, who do not want to hear long lectures, which they perceive as yawn-inducing. At school events,Ioften envisage myself as a spectator, willing for the speech of the chief guest to end, so I could be free to do anything else thanlistening tothediatribe from thedais.That is why I feel happy when the organisers insist on ‘two words.’ Ideally those two words should simply be ‘Thank You.’

 

But that would be considered rude. SoIweave my speech around theevent, ensuring that I mention how this event is“a testament to thehardwork andd edication of the organisers.” It’saline delivered with a mechanical precision, honed to perfection only becauseit’sbeen used sooften.And since the time I’veread that Ted Ex speakers are bound by a time limit of 18minutes,for according to the TED Curator Chris Anderson, “18 minutes is long enough to be serious and short enough tohold the attention of the audience,” I ensure thatI do not hold themic for a minute longer than that. Many a time, it is expected from me to motivate the audience, you can imagine the positivecliches that formapartofmyaddress. I suddenly find myself as the Prophet of Positivity, the Guru Mai of good vibes, and the champion of clichés. I have lost count of the times I’ve used, “It’s not about how many times you fall; it’s about how many times you rise and try again.” In retrospect, I often think, “Why indulge in doing things that make you fall?” The speaker me says, “Believe in yourself, and anything is possible,” forcing me to later contemplate, “Anything?!! Even winning the lottery without buying a ticket? Now wouldn’t that be awesome.”These lines have been delivered with suchzeal,( I am clueless whether they have been heard withrapt attention-for oftenI see students squirming, yawning, and doing everything that makes the guest at the podium so uncomfortable as to quickly end the speech) that I’ve started blindly believing them.

 

During my latest function, I realised that I’ve probably delivered the same speech a thousand times at least, with a little modification here and there, and definitely a different backdrop. Ah! the world of clichés-a place where originality goes for a toss, and most of us are left to negotiate througha swamp ofpredictablephrases and repetitive responses. If life hadascript, it would be riddled with these well-worn lines that have been churned out at every event, ceremony, including beauty pageants since time immemorial. Talking of beauty pageants, that one event has the most overused, eye-roll-inducing phrases that, for some unfathomable reason, have been apartof everybeautypageant, and forsomeinexplicable reason refuse to die. These pageants are the final frontier of clichés - every year, without fail when the winner is declared, the reaction is a well-rehearsed spectacle that has been passed down from one Beauty Queen to the next like a sacred tradition.

 

All of you know what I am talking about - the shortlisted contestants hold hands,waiting expectantly, then comes the shock, followed by awe when the winneris announced.The hint of tears, the covering of the mouth with her hands, eyes wide in disbelief, as though she just found out she won the lottery instead of the title she’d been aiming for since she could walk in heels. And then comes the inevitable tearful gratitude, that is littered with, “Ijust want to say,Inever expected this,” she says, flashing her perfectly whitened teeth. “This is a dream come true.” The ‘dream come true’ is delivered with such sincerity, you almost forget that the real dream was about the many endorsementdeals that follow thewin.And finally, the piece de resistance, “I want to use this platform to make the world a better place.” Admirable, yes. Original? Absolutely not. This is also true of the awardees who receive their coveted prizes at various functions.

 

Now we all know that anyone whois shortlistedin any category has a hope that he/she will win. And even if they do pretend that they didn’t see it coming, we all know that they’ve spent at least a month practicing their acceptance speech in front of a mirror. Clutching the coveted trophy, the lines they deliver with faux humility, invariably will be peppered with, “There are so many other deserving candidates,” to “thanking the members who made this possible, and lastly the family without ‘whose unstinted support, it wouldn’t have been possible.’” Ho, hum! Thunderous applause belies the fact that the same speech is delivered by different awardees every year, except the faces and the setting, nothing is new. I am not like Kareena Kapoor of Jab We Met - reference to ‘Main apni favourite hoon.’ My fav clichés are not the ones that I listed when I am holding the microphone.

 

This award goes to a line that is a trademark of every public servant wielding some authority. “I have a vision.” These representatives are undoubtedly the grandmasters of cliches, particularly when it comes to speeches that are heavy on promises and light on details. Be it a localrally or a national televised debate,one common cliche that each such public servant utters at least once is “I have a vision.” Unfortunately the vision endswith the full stop at the end of that cliché. For the grandiose statements that follow the ‘vision’ proclamation are usually very vague and mean absolutely nothing.“Ihavea vision for a prosperous nation where every citizenhas the opportunity to thrive.”Chest thumping stuff, except they conveniently leave out how they plan to turn this vision into reality. Then there’s the classic, “Let’s join hands and work together for the common good.”

 

Which translates to ‘I’ll make lofty promises while you do all the actual work.’ Of course, no political speech would be complete without the phrase, “Let me be clear.” This is the cue to start tuning out because whatever follows is about to be as clear as a muddy puddle, or the ‘vision’ that he started his speech with. Whatever be the case, the one thing that we cannot take away from these clichés is that they have been tried and testedover generations, and yes,they lack originality.Yet, they have managed to remain in circulation - year after year, speech after speech. So here’sto the clichés-may they never change, and may we never stop rolling our eyes at them. And who knows? Maybe one day, we’ll find an alternative to “It’s always a privilege” or “I took time off from my busy schedule.” Until then, we’ll just keep playing the same old tune, and laughing or sniggering, as the casemay be, all the way through it. Ah! The phone is ringing. “Hello,” I respond, “Sure, let me just check my calendar. I will get back to you!”