Content-ified

These are interesting times. While our lives become increasingly complex and the variables that affect our actions pile up by the day, it is easy to understand why we find ourselves uncontrollably driven by circumstances around us. Very often, I spend my time doing something that I feel like doing and is not what I desire to be doing. The question is not about productivity related to a certain action performed by a human, it is rather about the action itself. Why is there a gap between what we desire to do and what we happen to do? I am no motivational speaker and more often than not, I do not have answers to pertinent questions of the day. But as I have learnt recently, the answers to a lot of our questions lie in our willingness to take time, map a cause-effect chain, and intelligibly visualize why what happens, happens. 

Let us get into the act. You have just had a relaxed and lazy weekend. Monday morning is greeting you with bright sunshine as you wake up. You stretch yourself and pick up your phone right when you decide to open your eyes. Within a minute after you wake up, you glance at your notifications - friend requests, reminders, events, emails, news headlines and text messages, all at once. You do this so ritualistically that the movements are a part of your muscle memory. As you walk into the bathroom, your mind is populated with memories related to the notifications you just read. As you turn on the shower, you are either pondering over something that didn't go as well as you wanted it to or something that you are afraid wouldn't. The day goes on and you are never too far away from your notifications because you've got high-speed internet and Android 8.1 running on your flagship mobile phone with 6GB of RAM and a Snapdragon 845 processor - basically, scrolling through your feed and consuming content is ridiculously fast and plain easy.

The notification light on our smartphones does what placing deliciously cooked food in front of our eyes when we are starving does. We must consume it. Not very long ago, if we scrolled down enough on our Facebook feeds, content that we had already viewed would show up. It would remind us that we were pushing for more content that didn't exist and that it is time we got off the website/app. Now, software engineers are doing everything they can to ensure that we are provided with an optimum (maximum) amount of content with no duplications. The quality of content shared with users is undoubtedly questionable but it is still content and when consuming it is plain easy, the quality doesn't bother many. As users, we also get to create content because we are entitled to free speech. If free speech simply means that we are allowed voice out our opinions and when a platform allows us to do just that, how do we predict the quality of content and its actual worth of consumption before we even choose to consume it? The answer is - we don't know. Consequently, we sell ourselves to content that is intended to be sold to us, a bit too easily, because doing so is just plain easy. 

But is selling ourselves to content detrimental to our quality of existence? One could argue, "so what?". As long as the world functions and everyone continues to live a life that (s)he is satisfied with, who cares? "So what?", I don't know. But "who cares?" - we care and we fail to recognize that we do. As we inexplicably sell ourselves to all the content we consume, we miss out on opportunities (time) to create a personal space that we intrinsically love. How often have we cut off from hobbies that we pursued as kids with joy and why? What are we if we don't create? I would assume that it would be healthy to spend as much time creating as we do consuming content. To better picture the difference between creating and consuming, we could visualize them as a different states of existence, consumption being closer to non-existence and creation being close to true-existence. In the time that we get with ourselves, obligations aside, if we choose to only consume content that is easily available to us, we are failing to create individualistic depictions of our true thoughts. 

"To create, you need not be "creative". Creativity is not an inborn characteristic. Prodigies do not exist. It is differences in the degree of training that influence the output from a certain system (in this case, an individual).", said my professor during his lecture about viewing creativity as an exact science. "Only creativity coupled with integrity can solve real problems. Nature cannot be fooled and to solve problems that mar human life, freedom of thought must exist." Clearly, we are all free to think, but contextually speaking, "freedom of thought" here refers to thoughts unconditioned by a collective mindset that circumstances of our times ingrain in us. 

The uncertainty associated with "what's the next story on my Facebook feed" is certainly exciting but by giving in, we allow our minds to be littered with hastily-created content. Social media feeds are not very different from soap operas that are low on quality content but hugely popular. It is a masala offering that ties a lot of our lives together and attempts to entertain us while stealthily studying our usage patterns to display ads that best suit our needs. In simpler words, consuming low quality content in excessive amounts impairs our ability to create. With no creativity, there is no innovation and with no innovation, we cannot solve real problems that we are faced with. The balance is the key and to achieve this balance, we must make a purposive effort to differentiate between good and bad at a very personal and fundamental level. Provided we sort this out, we will have our answer to the question "why are we what we are?".

To the sky and beyond

While I do not see the point in sharing one's personal experiences with the world without reason, I believe that it is a must when there's a learning and greater good associated with it.

Just like most others would feel about their mothers (at least on this day), I feel everyday. My mother's love is unconditional and the sacrifices are immeasurable. Looking back, every aspect of my life is what it is is because of my parents, and I only have to thank them. This is not to place my mother on a pedestal because it happens to be mother's day. This is rather to remind myself of a feeling that doesn't hurt to share anymore.

When I recollect childhood memories that I associate with my mother, I visualize my mother elegantly draped in cotton sarees as she left for work. I waited excitedly for her to return and she occasionally surprised me with cake from McRennett Bakery. She drove (and still drives) her scooter to work with her head held high, not realizing that she inspired people around her. She celebrated festivals with infective enthusiasm but was let down when I didn't emulate as much. I loved her the way she loved me intrinsically, but she expressed it in a manner in which I simply couldn't (and to this day, can't). My list of memories is unending, but why does it matter?

My mother used every opportunity to stress the importance of cleanliness - wash the plates, clean your hands, change the bed sheet, dust your shoes outside the house, open the windows, clean the fan. She often conveyed messages through songs from her time. For instance, she was particularly fond of waking me and my sister up with a song that goes nalla pozhudhai ellam thoongi keduthavargal naatai keduthathudan thaanum kettar (people who spent all their time sleeping spoilt not just themselves, but the nation as well). Yes, the best motivation song ever. When I was unwell and found it tough to sleep, she sat beside me and waited till I fell asleep. As a mother, she knew what her kids needed and she never failed to give everything that she could.

Her job requires her to interact with customers from around the area and she often shared with us stories of illnesses her customers underwent and felt sorry for them, they took comfort in sharing with her. It was clear that she could apprehend the preciousness of the gift that an illness-free life is. Towards the end of my Bachelor's degree, she occasionally complained of throat pain and examined her slightly swollen throat. She took immense care of her health and she refuted the idea of having an illness herself.

The doctors warned her of a "worst-case" scenario that started worrying her, but didn't stop her from singing her message-intensive songs, she never gave up on her routine. Over time, she lost weight and doubted her illness more, but she kept herself too busy to worry by attending yoga and music classes every evening after work. Meanwhile, she made it a point to stay away from the doctors because she loved her life too much the way it was.

A couple of days before our planned family visit to Srinagar, there were news reports of shooting happening in the location. Our trip was now doubtful. Later that evening, I collected a medical report for one of my mother's tests from the hospital. Our trip was now canceled. The report suggested that it was now more probable that she had an illness that the world in all its glory still hasn't found a cure for. I remember that she continued to refute the idea but I could discern that the possibility hadn't slipped her mind, she had given some thought to it. I had an emotionally-strong sister to talk to and my father started to realize that he had to rise to an occasion that was rather uninvited.

Different doctors had different ideas, but each of them suggested that cancer was the least probable of the possibilities. With roughly ten days left for my departure to the US for my higher studies, we were at the doctor's cabin. A surgery was now a necessity according to the doctor, but with my big day just a few days away, there were questions about the urgency. My mother agreed to have the surgery done as early as possible because for her, it was important that I left with a peaceful mind. As she was brought out from the surgery hall, my father asked the doctor what he felt. He remarked that it could be Tuberculosis and at that moment, it relieved us because we didn't want to associate ourselves with the "worst".

I hugged my mother before I left and as the flight took off, tears rolled down my face. The medical report was not out until I had reached my new home. When the report was out, we didn't have a reason to rejoice. Within the next two weeks, her first chemotherapy session was scheduled and she faced it with all her might. When I made my video calls to her, she only found reasons to smile and never complained about her illness. I could imagine that it was demanding task for my father and sister, especially without me around. When I had a job interview or an important meeting to attend, she made it seem more important than her illness. She continued to refute, not the idea of having the illness but of having it consume her. She empowered herself instead and let herself fight this battle with grace and might. Whenever she spoke to me, she credited my father, my sister and my brother-in-law with taking care of her and for helping her get through this difficult time.

She watched movies during her chemotherapy sessions and continued to ask me to change my bed sheets. When I went home during my semester break, she woke me up with the same old motivational song. Her last chemotherapy session was due on my birthday and I stayed with her on that day, watching a movie in the hospital. When she reached home that evening, her emotions were rather restrained and she didn't seem overwhelmed by the ordeal. She simply played around with her grand daughter, the only one in the family oblivious to the circumstances; it seemed as if it was nature's intention.

I waved yet another emotional goodbye and left to my university later that week. She continues to go to work draped elegantly in saree, attend her music and yoga sessions, visit her friends, trouble me to cut my hair, go on her trips and sing her same old wise songs. Her courage fuels her desire to live life her way against all odds, to the sky and beyond.  And oh, remember the trip to Srinagar that we had to cancel and you assumed that you understood the reason behind it? Well, as I said, it was because of the shootings in the location. We should plan another visit to Srinagar soon.