The Words Are My World

The story below was written in response to a prompt a friend posted in the Whatsapp group. The prompt shown in italics.

The world is increasingly designed to depress us. Happiness isn’t very good for the economy. If we were happy with what we had, why would we need more? How do you sell an anti-aging moisturiser? You make someone worry about aging. How do you get people to vote for a political party? You make them worry about immigration. How do you get them to buy insurance? By making them worry about everything. How do you get them to have plastic surgery? By highlighting their physical flaws. How do you get them to watch a TV show? By making them worry about missing out. How do you get them to buy a new smartphone? By making them feel like they are being left behind.

To be calm becomes a kind of revolutionary act. To be happy with your own non-upgraded existence. To be comfortable with our messy, human selves, would not be good for business.

He had just woken up after an early siesta refreshed and continued his business of writing. There was this WhatsApp message, which seemed like a prompt for a story. The prompt was titled “The World.” He liked prompts, which seemed to trigger his thinking. Usually, it had been the politicos that always prompted him to write. With the stray cows everywhere, the foot in the mouth disease was fast spreading, and the politicos were the first ones to catch it with their tendency to blah blah. But this prompt was unusual and had an Orwellian ring to it. As he reread the prompt, the question whirred in the mind “who is designing this world to be depressing?” He ruled out any unseen hand. His world was mostly a laptop and was user-friendly enough. Many thousand words already typed and stored. He did not agree with the statement in the prompt. His world was far from a depression of any kind.

The next statement in the prompt said that happiness isn’t good for the economy. He could not disagree with the statement. All believed that the Indian economy without any doubt, excepting the ruling establishment, was going through a slowdown. Loan melas got organised and loan given to any passerby who happened to walk near a shamiana. “But I don’t need any loan” I am already happy. No, but make us happy as well. Otherwise, as bankers what do

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we answer our bosses? Shop shop till you drop. Of course these days you can shop at the click of the mouse. No wonder the policymakers eagerly awaited the Greatest Sale Days. What has he bought to contribute to the economy as a true patriot? Nothing! But he consoled himself by saying he had booked for a family vacation, and he recalled the great leader urging the countrymen to go for holidays. Definitely, not to the valley to hug anybody there but deep south.

 

The next question was about anti-aging related. He never worried what with the adi yogi hand me down yogasanas that he practiced every day. An added plus was the run in the moonlike surface negotiating the crater-like road surface kept him in good stead and balance. His chest was a mere 40 inches, so he skipped the chest asanas part. His wife, too, stopped worrying about graying for a lovely shade of gray was the new normal. There was always plogging for those who did not want to run.

Further, if one were to open and read WhatsApp diligently one gets a good enough dose of laughing medicines for free. His friends in the group ensured that.

How do you get to vote for a political party? Simple enough, arrange for fireworks across the border whenever there are elections, and the desh bhakts would vote en masse for the ruling party. He did not have to dwell on this question for long, for his mind had already warmed up for this exercise.

How do you get them to buy insurance? Was a challenging question. He has been reading that the LIC, which insures people itself, was in a crisis. Who would protect LIC that too against government’s policy? Even the central bank could not protect itself when the Government pocketed some money.

The next question was, how do you get them to have plastic surgery? The answer followed that by making people worry about their physical flaws. If only people could take to veshti and sari, most of their flaws would be covered. The PM had already shown them the way.

He felt that there were too many questions like the KBC show. He was not interested in becoming a crorepati and decided to skip those questions about TV and smartphone. He was calm now, and the feverishness in mind had subsided. He copied the passages and went ahead to paste them in the WhatsApp group. Nothing revolutionary about it, he thought.