THE HANDSHAKE

A handshake tells you a lot about a man. For one thing, it tells you that he is probably an American. Europeans hug when they greet each other, the English nod, the Japanese bow, but it is a peculiar American trick, the handshake. Oh, we Indians love to do what others do so we have ended up copying the Americans. And that’s the way it is. In my travels all over India I have been privileged to observe this very interesting art of greeting, which seems to have converted urban India over from the equally popular ‘namaste’ of the folded hands.

Extending an empty hand to show that you have no weapon, grasping another’s hand to signify your human bond --- you have to admit, that the handshake has impeccable symbolic credentials. Too bad it has become so commonplace as to have lost much of its original meaning. Anyway it’s one way of saying hello, so we might as well get straight once and for all, the main kinds of handshakes, especially the only one that is correct.

The Politician’s Pump. A familiar face with a toothy grin that materializes out of the crowd as its owner grabs your right hand in a firm grip, while simultaneously seizing your forearm in his left hand. Two short, strong shakes and you find yourself being moved to the side as Mr Teeth swivels to mug the next voter.

The Preemptive Squeeze. All fingers and thumb. Your extended hand is caught just short of its target by a set of pincers that encloses your four fingers at the second knuckle and leaves your thumb pointing west. No palm contact whatsoever. One quick squeeze, a side to side waggle, and your hand is unceremoniously dropped, leaving it utterly frustrated. You come across this variety in almost every Indian urban get-together, the corporate luncheon to be precise.

The Limp Fish. The most hated of all. Someone puts his fingers in your hand and leaves them there. Excusable in foreigners or a newly arrived urban babu, who is still grappling with the nuances of genteel behavior. For others, unacceptable.

The Macho Man. The old bone crusher, the familiar signature of the emotionally insecure but physically strong. If you’re alert, you can see this one coming in time to take countermeasures. The best defence is a good offense: grab his hand towards the base of the palm, cutting down on his fingers’ leverage, and start your grip before he starts his. Of course if he is strong enough and macho enough, it won’t work, and he will bond your individual digits into a single flipper for trying to thwart him. There are a lot of these types in Government Service.

The Preachers Clasp. As your right hands join, his left folds over the top and immobilizes them both. Always accompanied by steady eye contact (no way you won’t be the first to blink), and usually a monologue delivered two inches closer to your face than is really necessary. Once the exclusive right of men of the Church and subsequently all men of religion, the Clasp is now practiced by a broad spectrum of the relentlessly sincere, including motivational speakers and honours graduates of weekend-therapy marathons. The worse thing is that this handshake makes your hand sweat.

The Right Way. A firm full handed grip, a steady squeeze, and a definite but understated downward snap (but no up and down pumping, unless you’re contemplating a disabling karate move), followed at once by a decisive release accompanied by eye contact and performed only if both parties are standing (the ritual implies respect and equality, after all.) Sounds easy enough, but how frequently do you encounter a really good one?.

Footnote : Shaking hands with Women. No difference in grip (the Right Way is always right), but convention has it that you should wait for her to extend her hand first. These days, chances are that she will. The real urban animal nowadays does the air kiss while rubbing her cheek to yours, though I think this is more of an Indian custom, one wonders where it’s been picked up from. But we Indians are great at inventing new variations of traditional greetings.