Skip to main content

#If life were like an instagram feed

I read a quote sometime back that went something like this - "Jealously is how much fun you think they had." At some point in the evolution of social media, quality of life began to be measured by a person's social media feed. And you think that person must be having the time of their life. No dull moment. No faux pas. Every moment so tailor-made to create a thing of beauty. You will be misled into thinking that people were waking up daily to a view so beautiful that it seemed right out of a tourism guide and that every meal was a Michelin rated gourmet style offering.

If life were like an instagram feed, the day would begin on a cottage in the hills, a selfie with the morning mist in the background. Breakfast wouldn't be poha, idli, sambhar or anything that bears resemblance to the ordinary or everyday. It will be crepes with chocolate sauce, some orange juice, french toast with a side of bacon and waffles with maple syrup. You could use the filter 'Rise' for best effects.

The photo friendly breakfast will be followed up by a road trip to the beach. The clouds will form a design to look like a Van Gogh painting. The weather will be near perfect, if not, even out the rough edges with the filter 'Sierra.' On the way, you will stop by a pristine stream that isn't polluted by effluents and soap water. If you're lucky, the shot will look like the sun's rays are dancing off the surface of the water.

Some pictures speak a thousand likes.

After the eventful road trip, peppered by shots of flowers in bloom and the shapes of clouds to add more meat to the outdoor aspect, the beach inches closer.

The beach will be as clean as the ones we used to see in Baywatch. With a couple of beer bottles in tow, you set out to embrace the UV rays. Entrench the beer bottles into the sand and pose for a picture that makes it look like you spent the entire morning with the waves caressing your feet as you chugged down some cool ale while in reality, the beer was warm and you endured a flat tyre on the way.

Lunch is an elaborate spread of sea food delicacies - crab, pomphret, lobster, all chugged down with some more cool beer. A foodstagrammer's wet dream. The sumptuous meal is followed by an attempted reading of the latest bestseller as you rest on a deck chair. Click a photo of the book with the beach in the background.

As the afternoon melts away, it's time to head back and capture shots of a spectacular sunset atop a hill. You ascend just as the sun's rays are clawing back from the face of the earth. The seafood and the beer have slowed down your gait and the perfect sunset slips through your fingers. But all is not lost. Use the filter 'Amaro' to resurrect the almost lost opportunity and make it look like you managed to capture the perfect shot, much to the awe of your followers.

But the day is far from over, least of all for your instagram feed.

The night throws up interesting possibilities - a nice gourmet dinner or letting your hair down at a club. Then you think that the food porn needs a rest and choose the club. A quick change of clothes ensues and you enter the club. Just as you enter, you click a groupfie to rub it in the face of all your unlukcy buddies who are presumably sitting at home watching Game of Thrones that they have downloaded from Torrentz.

After all the sweat has been expended in the club, it's time to call it a day.

But not before a stop for ice-cream - vanilla ice-cream and brownies topped with chocolate sauce. It's the icing on the cake for your day and more importantly, for your instagram feed.

If someone saw your instagram feed, they would think your existence was devoid of boredom. They will see you living it up with your buddies but won't see you sitting across them in a pub, whatsapping your other buddies to check what they're up to. They will see you having shots on a Friday night with your fellow slaves at work, but won't see you trudge through your dead-end job for 60 hours a week.

If only life allowed you to crop out all the bad stuff and make the good times last really long.

Excuse me as I need to go and upload a picture of the sunset I took from my office terrace.

P.S. - I love social media, including instagram and try not to check every 5 minutes to see if my latest upload has got a like.


Popular posts from this blog

When an Iyer met an Iyengar

If you see my parents, they look like the quintessential arranged marriage couple. After nearly 35 years together, they still take care not to touch each other while posing for a photograph and my mother’s smile dangles precariously between a smile and a grimace. But this image discolours the truth a tad.
Some 40 years back, they met at work, fell in love and got married. The talking point of the union being mom’s status as an iyengar and dad’s as an iyer. Simply put, the iyers and the iyengars are two castes of the Brahmin community, each, when given the chance, profess superiority to each other on all counts. If you listen closely, an Iyengar talking about an Iyer will say ‘Iyer a?’ in a condescending tone. And vice versa.
Mom tells me that when she told her dad about the marriage, he vowed to stand by her at any cost. Dad never told me what happened, but allow me to hazard a guess. His mother (my grandmother), threatened to go on a fast unto death. My dad threatened to go on a parall…

Unfair and unlovely

If time is money, the demonetization drive has ensured that many Indians are already very rich because they have suddenly been taught the virtue of patience.
A crossing near my house got to be very busy and a new signal was installed to help regulate the flow. Every single day, I see people break the signal from all sides without paying heed to their safety or anyone else’s. The people who break the signals glare at you for following the rules. You feel guilty for being patient.
The signal is red and people behind you are honking as if there was a reward for it. People shout the choicest of epithets at you for not moving and standing your ground. Either that or I need to go for an eye check up and see if I am colour blind. In another part of the world, orange maybe the new black but as far as I know, red is not the new green.
Stand in a queue at the railway station, in the petrol bunk, airport check-in counter ,or to pay a bill, and there will always be that one asshole who tries to…

Rasam rice

On some days, Bangalore weather becomes nostalgic. And for some time, everyone is permitted to live in the past. On one such June day, the sun wistfully playing hide and seek and the clouds emitting just enough raindrops for an instagram photo, the weather flirting with winter, the craving for rasam becomes telling.
Rasam. Rasam rice. Whichever, doesn’t matter.
First, use your fingers to make space in the middle of a heap of rice. Don’t protest when the dollop of ghee gleefully sinks into the rice. The rasam should scald, otherwise the ride isn’t worth it. The flesh on your fingers crawl when you dip them into the rasam, but trust me, keep with it. No good thing has been known to ever come easy. The impatient wait for a few seconds and an insignificant morsel is savoured. Gooseflesh ensues.
Slowly but steadily, bigger portions are savoured. to enhance the experience and attain nirvana, combine it with crisp papad and sandige.  Personal favourites include molagu rasam, thakkali rasam, jee…