A-Social Nirvana

So here I was. Blowing kisses to my cute reflection in the bathroom mirror, it struck me how the move to move away from social media cooled my nerves to Nirvana proportions. Now I mind my game and count my chicken as the eggs hatch.

I would not deny the initial days of estrangement were painful with an uncomfortable silence that gave me the Hibbie Jibbies. What are my friends upto? Who is wringing the other's neck (I mean virtually)? Who flaunted their travel and food destinations through 'check-in'? Who won the 'Whose baby is the cutest' contest? Good lord! I was itching to log back in and dive into the photos and posts and what nots!

As the dust settled, I started regrouping with my friends in real time. Now when we met we did not shoot 'likes' or 'hearts' at each other. We were armed with brutal honesty, patronising advise, some  innocuous, abusive words to shower affection, savoury gossips and warm hugs. This time around, the tears felt salty and the laughter rang a bell. The stories and lives did not leave me as they did when I turned away from my computer or mobile phone. Something was back.

The person who was the most relieved by this renunciation was my beloved mother. The 'anti-social nonsense' as she termed it, was now like a memory of my last boyfriend who she loved to dislike with all her motherly wit and might. Well, what can I say? She has the knack to pick the chaff from grains, a super power most moms have. People reveal far too much on these mediums, she believes, leading to idle conjecture and mootless controversies. "Devil begone, Dugga Dugga", muttered my mother, saluting Goddess Durga and possibly raising a toast with her for this miracle. Ehem! Well, Mom I know you would protest at my choice of merriment that I attributed to you and your goddess but then you can excuse a tiny deviation now that I give up my virtuality.

Anyway, nowadays my days and half of the evenings are filled with contract jargon and provisions. Negotiation tips, business risk appetite kills my real time appetite for some hot rice, daal and aloo bhaja (Bengali's favourite potato fries). Each day leaves a skid mark on the calendar. All that I blabber about is the work load, unreasonable client requirements and opposition's dim-wit lawyers. There are no pouts and selfies and definitely no live videos. Our efforts rarely fetch us 'likes' and 'love'. There is no Facebook debate or Twitter trolling to keep the adrenaline surging. The bosses troll and the debate is more often than not around indemnity and IP rights. And there it is, the itch is back as I desperately look for a diversion from this lethargic grind. Do I or do I not give in?

Decide in negative. Come what may, I cannot let the pressure of social media re-enter my life. Not at the sake of my shelf full of lovers (aka my books, you pervert!). The virtual Me was far too removed from the base Me. I am ordinary, restless, sin-ridden and considerably grey. Possibly a little bit of bi-polarity too sets in now and then. The one hobnobbing on social media is near perfect, precise, suave etc etc. She avoid confrontation, I relish debate. I have bad hair days twice a week, she glistens on the Profile page. I do not want to confront my alter ego each day and thus I give up the Social Me.

So like all good posts, I sign off with some witty introspective question. Did I block out social media or did it exile me?

Thought for the pot!!