I don’t just dislike people, as I have recently discovered, but I have a specific kind of dislike; I dislike nice people. They get on my nerves by their mere presence. You know those ever-smiling, goody two shoes, agreeing with everything thing you utter, “liking” every status of yours on Facebook. I despise them.

Many years back I watched a brilliant play by Naseeruddin Shah called Katha Collage based on the brilliant satirical stories by Sharad Joshi. Therein was a story about a “nice man”. And I identified with it immediately because before every reference to a “nice man” lies an invisible adjective “poor”. Somehow being poor is equated with being nice and being rich and successful with being an arse. But of course, such naive stereotypification remains largely restricted to literature.
My personal aversion to “nice” people runs very deep. “Nice” people come across to me as creatures without a spine. Nice people are just that: NICE. Would they counter your opinion? Perhaps not. Because that would mean being slightly assertive at the risk of perceived as “not nice”. And the “nice” ones will commit harakiri on the floor before that happens. Hence they will twist and contort their opinion on something to suit all sides and ruffle neither. They pepper their sentences with too much “ifs and thens” and take up too many words to explain their opinion. And then they flash a smile. I cannot find enough words to describe how I detest that “nice smile”. Nice people can’t stand up for themselves and in effect nor for anything or anybody else. Personally, I can’t stand pleasantness for too long. I like to get done with the smiling and get on with some stimulating conversation! I like people with opinions. I like people with an edge. And strangely enough, somehow in the outside world don’t we witness some “nice” people getting treated like doormats? Yeah, being nice if at all serves a very very limited short-timed purpose like for instance an introduction to a stranger that you know you are going to forget as soon as you bid your adieus. That’s it.
Of course by now, you may have realized that I am not a “nice” person. But if you yourself are a “nice” person, you may have concocted an elaborate version of how I may be a “nice” person somewhere deep inside and some convoluted theory about it. I hate it even before I hear it.

Before it starts looking like I am advocating rudeness, let me draw your attention to the fact that I am all for kindness. Hurray! You don’t have to hate me. Kind is secure, nice is not. You can be kind to a dog and he’ll understand. You can’t be nice to a dog. He’ll be wondering hard, he’d have stopped wagging his tail and he’ll probably walk away bored. That’s it, I have made my point. I always run it past dogs. If it makes sense to them, then it makes sense.

If you are looking for some kind of conclusion to this piece, there isn’t one. And I am not going to be “nice” about it and give it one because there’ supposed to be one. Draw or jump your own( conclusion).

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