There is so much by way of choice today, it is hard
to make a choice. I spend a big chunk of my free time, trying to figure out
what to watch on Netflix and sometimes I can’t make up my mind and end up
watching nothing at all. It is the same in restaurants. I put in so much effort
to make the right choice when it comes to the hundreds of varieties on offer
that invariably I order something funky and the memory of a jellied scaly fish
swimming in a foul smelling white sauce, described by food critics as sex on a
plate, haunts me the next time I find myself in a similar predicament.
It is the classic paradox of choice described by
Barry Schwartz. The overabundance of choice has put so much pressure on us to
make the perfect choice that we are unable to choose anything at all. When we
do choose, it is impossible to be happy with the decision because we are
convinced that there is something better out there, that impossibly perfect
thing we must have in our lives and
which we have missed out on because we didn’t keep looking.
While it is hard enough to wrestle with personal
choice, we compound matters by criticizing the choices made by others in order
to feel better about our own. Of course, everybody is entitled to make their
own choices, just the same as us, but we prefer it, if everybody makes the same
choices so that we can all be miserable together. If not, we will judge and
shame while viciously condemning those who do the same to us.
We will attack not just the makers and Shahid Kapoor
for the admittedly problematic Kabir Singh but those who watched it and dared
not to hate it, because they found it to be engrossing cinema and brand them as
flag bearers of toxic masculinity.
We will not respect Zaira Wasim’s decision to
disassociate herself from Bollywood. How dare she? Here I am praying fervently
before the Karan Johar bust in my puja room hoping he believes the definitive
proof that my great aunt was a stunt double for Hema Malini when she danced on
broken glass and gives me a glitzy launch and this teenager throws it all away
because acting interferes with her religion! Of course I am going to natter on
about her foolishly regressive choice or if I am Barkha Dutt, worry about ‘the
indoctrination of religious conservatism.’
What about Virat Kohli’s inexplicable decision to
keep backing Dhoni? Sure, the legend has contributed his mite to cricket but he
is done damn it! We twitter warriors have begun a crusade to get the legend
dropped and we urge you to join in.
Given the chaos over
choice, I am convinced that the solution is to let our mothers take all
decisions. They will always be happy to do it and we can have the comfort of
blaming them when life becomes crappy. Or we can find a way to live with our
choices and make even the dubious ones work for us. But that is sensible and
deserves to be rejected outright since it is better to stew in discontent while
laughing ourselves silly over the foolishness of others. This column was originally published by The New Indian Express.
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