Personality test disorder

It's time we subjected ourselves to some real tests, writes Nandini Krishnan

Personality test disorder
For several months, I have been repeatedly amazed by the number of Facebook friends I have who are desperately trying to find out their mental ages. I deleted several from my Friends list after glancing through the questions on this erudite test, which include the likes of “It’s Saturday night. What are you doing? (a) Reading a book (b) Patting your baby to sleep (c) PARTY! (d) Fumbling for your glasses.”

There are tests that tell you which celebrity you look like, what colour your aura is, which depressed Russian author would have been your soul mate, which Victorian heroine you would have been, which nonexistent person you could have married and made babies with, and hell, even which Shah Rukh Khan you are.

I couldn’t resist that one, and it turned in the most accurate result. Apparently, I’m Devdas: “You live to drink and you drink to live. This is how your average day goes by and you live life with no regrets.”

[quote]One of my greatest triumphs in life is that I have not seen Hum Aapke Hain Kaun[/quote]

That’s a good deal better than the other Shah Rukh Khans. What would one rather be? The creepy stalker from Darr? The creepier stalker from DDLJ? The killer from Baazigar? The mitthaiwala from Chennai Express? I mean, you can’t really do much worse than a Raj or Rahul, right?

Another test, which promised to find out who I am, offered me this result, which gets everything spectacularly wrong, except that I am female, and they probably got that from “How often do you paint your nails?”:

You are female.

You are currently in your mid fifties.

You have a wonderful, big family and a deep loving connection with your lifelong partner.

You have short hair, light coloured eyes and stylish glasses.

You have long ago decided to live every minute to the fullest. Your life experiences taught you that no moment should be wasted on something or someone you don’t love.

tft-27-p-22-q


I am going to be in my mid-twenties for a long time. I’m rarely sure of the whereabouts of my family members. I have long hair, black eyes and have never worn glasses. I spend the majority of my time on Facebook and Twitter, and waste nearly all my time on accountants who won’t send me my cheques on time.

Since the world wants to feel awesome and unappreciated, evidenced by how well Linda Goodman sells across the world, here is a list of tests we do need:

Which horror movie doll are you?

You can just see the answers already, right?

“You are Chucky from Child’s Play. You can be fun and silly, but when it comes to terrorising a family and ruining all memories of a happy birthday, no one can quite beat you. They could cut you into little pieces, and yet you’ll return all slashed, but whole, and hunt them down.”

“You are the Ventriloquist’s Dummy from Dead Silence. Hell, you don’t even need the nursery rhyme to scare the living daylights out of people. Your large, staring eyes and vacuous smile are enough. They could try and bury you, but you’d still rise. Hail Mary Shaw.”

“You are Billy the Puppet from Saw. Nothing tells people something bad is about to happen like your arrival on a tricycle. Whether you’re advising people on how to save themselves from death traps by gutting other people, or hinting to the dunces that they’re going to die anyway, you’re wonderfully chilling. You can also rock the tuxedo-and-rouge combination.”

Which brand of lingerie are you?

It would be hard to let people down with this, unless of course, we went back to those pointy local brands from the nearest retail store. You know, something like “You are Dolsevita. You have been misspelled, and will be mispronounced, and the sales person will have to stare at the chest of an embarrassed adolescent before recommending you.”

It’s far more likely that you will get: “You are Victoria’s Secret. You’re high maintenance, and people would die to be able to wear you. You are a stepping stone for models to date footballers. It doesn’t matter that you were made in an Asian sweathouse. You’ll eventually land up on a ramp in Milan.”

What makeup accessory would you be?

I suppose most people would end up with: “You are an eyelash curler. Few people know what you’re used for, and you look like an instrument of torture. When you’re being worked, you find yourself wondering why people would want to do this to themselves. You’re cold to the touch, and generally redundant.”

Which Holy Book would you be?

Umm, perhaps let’s not even go there. Whatever answer you get, the only result is: “You could start a war.”

Which dictator should you have married?

Who would have been your ideal suitor? General Batista, who not only ran a dictatorship, but whose defeat led to another one? Adolf Hitler, who would have wiped Israel from the map before Ahmadinejad could voice it? Saddam Hussein, with the uniform and moustaches, and golden toilets?

Which Bollywood animal hero are you?

Are you the suicidal haathi that was Rajesh Khanna’s saathi? Or the crow that went around pecking the crotches of the idiots from Grand Masti? The dove that carries messages in Delhi 6, or its braver, multi-purpose, villain-attacking counterpart from Maine Pyar Kiya?

I think the highest honour, though, would have to be the Pomeranian from Hum Aapke Hain Kaun. One of my greatest triumphs in life is that I have not seen the movie. But I understand this dog can read letters, and save people from unhappy marriages in the nick of time.