Victim of Social Media

Sometimes I am forced to think that Social Networks are my best friends. I get to speak to unimaginable number of people free of cost (but if time is money, I have lost millions). I gain a lot professionally. Most of the new ideas and solutions to my problems come through social networks. I found excellent professionals and subject matter experts on these social networks who have now become great companions. We help each other (It is a two-way street always). I found lost friends on social networks. Some of them are my schoolmates, some college mates and others are recent ones. It gives great sense of satisfaction to find lost friends, great companions, professionals and experts.

But you have to pay a cost for everything that you consume so much so that the air you breathe, water you drink, and space you live in doesn’t come free. If you are not paying the cost directly, it is being accrued indirectly. As I mentioned above, the amount of time invested can never be regained. Social networks are intriguing but intruding. These networks take away ‘privacy’. As a student of psychology, I can challenge that every human being has tendencies to be secretive. If one claims to be transparent, it is a false statement – not true at all! But the fascination of revealing/publishing the things (which were best kept secrets) has surmounted the mind and remains unconquered. But I haven’t revealed the worst yet. These social networks take away your imagination. These social networks make you the victim of OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder). I am not writing this as a preacher. I am a victim of social networks. Orkut, (the only network that I exited) Twitter, Facebook, Linkedin, Live Journal, Yammer and many others (I profusely reject requests for joining any other social network).

Not so long ago (10-12 years back) we exclaimed when we found a long-lost friend in a crowded market, on board an aeroplane, in a train or some other place like that. Today we exclaim when we see someone after a gap of a week on Facebook. “Where’re you for so long.” Most people hate those who are not on these networks. They are considered ‘downmarket’, ‘illiterate’, ‘non-progressive’ and ‘naive’. Today photo albums have been replaced by Flickr, Picasa and other such sharable online albums, where anyone and everyone can see you (you can put some policies to avoid onlookers to some extent).

I am a classic case of a mentally sick social networker. If I am going for leisure trips, my laptop, camera and data card are the ‘must-have’ tools. Why! Because I would probably not cherish the memories of the nice landscapes, vast horizons and unexplored nature with naked eyes. I would like to put the pictures, memoirs, descriptions on my social networks and wait for people’s reaction to them. These reactions no give a kick. Similarly, smallest of the issues, which could be resolved by doing some self research, are now solved by throwing the topic on the social networks.

To be there or not to be there - this state of dilemma has crippled me. I am not able to take a decision whether I shall be there and continue to harness the great deal of advantage or just simply detach myself to be more imaginative, original and free myself from enslavement.

The Turning Point

I am writing after a gap of nearly six months. And if someone reads my introduction column carefully, I will prove myself the biggest defaulter. When I started writing the blog, I told the entire universe that I will write regularly - mostly everyday but this gap of six months tells a different story. I have realised that I can't stick to my promises...But that is just not true in real life. I think I take a lot of liberty with myself and promises made to myself. If I make a promise to myself that I will go for a walk every day, I could barely make it once in a week. If I make a promise to myself that I will paint (which I do once in almost 10 years) more often, then I won't even touch the canvas for years. In fact I bought my last painting aids in 2008 and consumed the same this month in 2010...What a shame but it's okay! At least I keep promises given externally.

Anyway, today is the day when I wasn't feeling well and despite having a lot of work at hand, I am not able to focus on anything - even on the closing of the magazine that I work for. Certainly this is not the time for an intellectually-motivated discourse. Nor it is a suitable state of mind to write a political or ideological piece.

Today I will talk about a few things that I generally don't talk. Don't worry these are not those "never-revealed-secrets". Also, I am going to talk about just one thing and not go overboard.

About 20 years ago...I was in class 11th! Probably yes. This was at a place called Bharatpur. My board exams were over (Strange but true! 11th was a board in Rajasthan). There was limited access to phones. There was TV but only broadcasting Doordarshan. At crossroads, I was waiting for the exam results. The anxiety wasn't that will I pass or fail it. The anxiety was around the fact will I feature in the "Merit List" - a list of 10 top scoring students. And the ritual was that each one of those meritorious students was featured in the largest circulated vernacular daily of Rajasthan called 'Rajasthan Patrika'. How would one know that he/she has secured a place in that merit list? Simple! Mahendra Cheema (the reporter of the daily will come on his cycle) to your place. And that would happen basis the results declared in Jaipur a day ago. My anxiety wasn't baseless. Having switched over from Science (which didn't go well down my throat) to Arts and having performed exceedingly well in the examination, I was quite confident of making it to the list.

Ironically my entire family was in Agra that time. I thought if Cheema comes, there won't be anyone to share this good news! But I had other plans in place. I would call a few friends and party...I also withdrew all the money from my bank account (some Rs. 150 odd). 20 years back Rs. 150 wasn't a bad amount. It was 9 AM in the morning. I was cleaning the living room. What if Cheema ji comes? I kept visiting the main gate (I did it at least 20 times during the day) and every man riding a cycle - to me - was looked like Cheema ji. Between these bouts of anxiety I reluctantly had my lunch - cooked by myself. Cheema ji still didn't come. The anxiety continued, rather it aggravated to its peak. I was biting my nails (which I otherwise also do...you can say I suffer from anxiety disorder). The clock was showing 4 PM. I had no patience left. I didn't even know whom to call, how to know if I was there or not. Evening tea was also over...I lost all hopes and then decided to just forget about it. I went for an evening walk inside the famous Ghana Bird Sanctuary. Though it wasn't really a good season to be there but I wanted to just get rid of the thought. I came back...there wasn't any note or information on the door. The news was confirmed that I wasn't there on the merit list. The excitement was all over by now. Rs. 150 in my pocket were just worth nothing now. I switched on the television with a heavy heart. As usual, it wasn't so clear. I was in no mood to cook food. Moreover, I was worried if I had actually cleared the exam in 1st division. Bad thoughts grappled my mind. If it wasn't 1st division, my dad would not let it go so easily. And I had studied very hard. Somehow, the sleep caught me unawares. I didn't even know when I went to sleep...without having dinner. The morning paper (Rajasthan Patrika) banged the door. Now I wasn't excited anymore. Generally the mark sheets reach the schools the same day. I was keen to know my marks but as a habit. I opened the paper. Cheema ji had a reason not to come to my place. My name didn't feature in that list. I passed in 1st division though. 9:30 AM the next day, like many others, I was in school too waiting for my mark sheet. I got it. And when I saw my marked, I came to know I missed the "Merit List" by a whisker - just 2 marks. I scored badly in Hindi. The excitement was over. The new battle ground was getting ready. I was at crossroads - will I go to the college of my liking in Agra or will I have to study in the college which I would not like to attend...The outcome was desirable but that was the turning point I was talking about in the headline.