To be or not to be on WhatsApp
At the outset, let me briefly reopen some wounds, albeit purely for academic purposes. I hope you understand and let me examine whether my real-world sufferings have merely persisted or matured, like a well-bred tragedy, into something richer, darker, and faintly operatic. If pain were a stock, mine would have outperformed the Sensex in a nosedive match. One recurring affliction may be clinically described as WhatsApp tyranny. As a long-suffering inmate of this digital asylum, I have often declared open war through my blogs on its weaponised ‘kindness’, that peculiar strain of benevolence where every ping arrives dressed as a moral ambush, perfumed with glittery GIFs of neon-orange deities or aggressive sunflowers. Invoking Hamlet’s 'cruel to be kind' paradox, I had argued that these people are so aggressively kind they border on the sadistic. From obscure festivals nobody had asked for to 3:15 AM ‘Good Morning’ ballistic missiles, the deluge is nothing sho...