December 05, 1999

"Have cause. Will party". There is something depressing about this entire cause-caucus. Starting December, all the heavy-duty causewal-lahs get into overdrive. The weather is conducive to staging out-door events. Socialites want to show off their latest Shahtoosh shawls (oops - that's another cause, but so what?) Designers don't mind an extra plug or two (the high season is on). And fundraisers feel satisfied that the money comes rollin' in when the 'details' are right.

The formula is pretty simple. Throw in a clutch of celebrities (and these days, who isn't one?), call in the veejays, line up a couple of out-of-work movie stars, get a few Bombay babes to strut their stuff on a ramp. But hey - you've got yourself a cause-related jamboree.

Political fundraisers in America are just that - fundraisers. People who sign up for a $ 1,000-a-plate dinner know exactly where that money is going. Mega concerts for AIDS awareness programmes are also crammed with mega-namers wearing little red ribbons. Enormous amounts are raised through these performances. I also expect, the money goes exactly where it is supposed to. Not so in India.

Last week, I watched the invitations flowing in, with a slight sense of revulsion, I have to admit. Each new card was glossier than the one that had been couriered hours earlier.

The amount of money spent on printing these plush invitations alone could easily have clothed and fed 10 underprivileged children for a year.

While the organisers had included notes on themselves and the work they were undertaking, the main focus was on the personalities who were supporting the event. No quarrel there. One needs to flog famous people in order to get the scrooges in our midst to loosen their purse strings. But what happens to the money so generously donated as such functions? Nobody knows. Well, somebody does, but no one's telling.

And no one seems to be accountable either. My attention has been frequently drawn to the 'lapses' after charity auctions, for example. Out of nowhere, an anonymous Mister Money Bags outbids everybody else to bag a prized canvas for a phenomenal amount. He is invited on stage while flashbulbs pop. His smug face is all over the newspapers for the next few days. And then, he disappears. Whoosh. He is gone. The Masked Benefactor.

The organisers tear their hair out trying to trace him. If they succeed in doing that, they fail when it comes to getting the money out of him. "Tomorrow. Next month. Next year," says the Slime Ball. It becomes an endurance race. Eventually, it's the organisers who give up in sheer exhaustion. What does Money Bags care? He has walked away with all the phookat glory anyway.

I also know that a noted cricketer who was 'given' a fancy cash award at a glittering function in Mumbai more than two years ago, has still to receive even a rupee of that amount.

The high-profile businessman who'd handed over the cheque so grandly (and got his mug shot into the papers the next day) now refuses to take the calls from either the bowler or his wife. As the lady told me: "The amount isn't all that big for the industrialist - he'd spend that much on a fancy dinner in London. But for us, it's quite a lot of money. We need it." I tried to intervene on the couple's behalf. But soon, the man started avoiding my calls as well. The bowler has sensibly kissed the money goodbye.

At another, equally starstudded art auction last year, over Rs. 50 lakh were raised for what sounded like a very worthy cause. A mere fraction of that amount went to the adopted village in a drought-stricken area of Maharashtra. As for the rest? "Oh…but we had to deduct our expenses," the super-rich socialite behind the auction explained to those demanding answers.

A fortnight ago, someone called to invite me to what sounded suspiciously like a kittyparty. "But we'll also be showing an audio-visual before lunch. And we'll place a charity box at the exit. You are free to give what you feel like to the cause." That little speech gave me serious indigestion.

However, I'm pretty sure Mumbai's power-ladies flocked to the venue to gorge on gourmet nibbles and feel better about themselves after leaving a generous 'tip' for the orphans / flood victims / girl-child / lepers / aged / mentally disadvantaged. Designer charity is here to stay. Enjoy.

 

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