It is hard for me
to make up my mind. Should I go bonkers, cooped up at home during the pandemic
or risk getting infected by stepping out and living a little? Should I work
harder on losing the weight I piled on during the lockdown or encourage myself
to love mine own self even if said self is dangerously close to bursting at the
seams? Should I follow through on my occasional urge to leave home with nothing
more than my backpack (and all the credit cards and cash I can stuff into it)
to explore the furthermost contours of the world or stay put and continue to cope
with the humdrum monotony of the daily grind?
Shaking my head
like a Bollywood heroine in the utmost throes of theatrical despair, I scold
myself a little for being obsessed with pathetic non - issues that are of little
consequence to anyone other than me. Then I turn my attention to whatever is
trending on Twitter, figuring it has to be better than Instagram and Facebook,
which have perfected the art of packaging envy incited by filtered images that
give the impression of perfect bodies and lives, and using it to sell
overpriced products which will supposedly give us the superficial satisfaction
that only pretend perfection can. Twitter is always interesting for those who
thrive on chaos or depend on it for stimulating ideas that can be worked into
columns. It can also be conflicting as hell.
Is the HBO
documentary Allen Vs Farrow a scathing indictment of a predator who groomed and
married his step – daughter in addition to molesting his own daughter or is it
PR/ activism on behalf of Farrow given how much key information has been
omitted that may have exonerated Allen? Is Megan Markle a poor little rich girl
who is a victim of racism and violation of privacy or is she merely playing the
victim and bemoaning the loss of her privacy while revealing intimate details
about the sex of her unborn child to the entire world? Did Kamaraj, a Zomato
delivery executive punch Hitesha and break her nose or did she whack him with a
slipper and injure herself to grab some sympathy likes for herself?
Perhaps, it would
be simpler to fixate on my own stuff. Should I humble brag about an award I
have been nominated for? Or acknowledge that I don’t have a shot against my brilliant
fellow nominees and forget about begging everyone I know and don’t to cast
their votes for me? I could always listen to my mother and disappear into a
weight loss facility. Or stock up on Patanjali products that promise solutions
for everything from obesity to finding inner peace and making up one’s mind.
This article was originally published in The New Indian Express.