Fine, I get it. That your picture of the neighbour's cat napping on a FabIndia cushion is cooler than my selfie in which I'm clutching a jar of Sangria like it's Ranveer Singh's shoulders. It's another thing that in the real world, the alcohol or the virtual shoulders of my choice are no less therapeutic than a sleeping cat when things get really blue. But not in this new Instagram social order. So apparently, you post selfies only when you cannot even find a pigeon on your AC box. Whose picture you can then proceed to click and share with captions like 'Isolation', or 'Main aur meri tanhai' or, better still, 'Kabotaar ja ja ja'.
First, people on Tinder declared war on selfies, especially if they involve pouts — saying that you hate pouty selfies only makes you stand out as a 'sapiosexual'. Since puckering up to atmospheric amoeba isn't the greatest evidence of having practical human interests, pouty selfies immediately hurl you to the bottom of the Facebook-Instagram photo sharing hierarchy. Then came a friend's New Year resolution: he will not 'like' many selfies through 2017.
First, people on Tinder declared war on selfies, especially if they involve pouts — saying that you hate pouty selfies only makes you stand out as a 'sapiosexual'.
Finally, a popular Delhi college issued a circular declaring selfies to be a royal 'waste of time' and informing part-time students that they were prohibited from taking selfies in the college premises. The circular, which the principal later said the college won't 'impose', initially said that students could be penalised for 'modelling' and taking selfies. My heart wept a bit for these young women — now doomed to wait for a cat to sneak up on Miranda House's corridors or an un-soggy samosa to land on their plates — so that they can use the cameras in their smartphones.
There are more pictures of cats on Instagram than actual cats in this world, said no one ever.
Because in the new intellectual hierarchy, even limp samosa pic >> new lipstick selfie. I mean, when have you heard people complain, "Uff, don't want to see another kulhari chai picture on Facebook." Or threaten, "Will swipe left on midnight Maggi pics." Or thunder, "Yes, we would know the sun sets, even if you didn't post 275 pictures of it." Or plead, "Can you leave the poor crows on overhead wires alone now?" There are more pictures of cats on Instagram than actual cats in this world, said no one ever.
But while you indulge in this selfie shaming — yes, we needed this word — do not forget the mighty conflicts selfies have resolved. Remember having to run after this friend and that with a phone asking for a picture to be taken. And even when the said picture materialised, after much persuasion, often you resembled your favourite vegetable than yourself in it.
You couldn't even chastise the grave offender who didn't care if you looked like a pillow or a radish in the picture.
And nope, you couldn't even chastise the grave offender who didn't care if you looked like a pillow or a radish in the picture. What if you needed his/her help again to perpetuate the memory of a great dress, date, day? Selfies gave your photos agency. You could finally look you in your pictures. How soon we have forgotten aur-kitni-photo-chahiye Raju/Rita. Who looked at you like you were a dhaniyapatta in his/her biryani.
Also don't ignore the clever science behind the pout. If your face, like mine, tends to look like idlis in some photos, a pout is the easiest way to summon your cheekbones for photographic duties.
You can go on denying selfies the respect they deserve. After all, no genius went unopposed. I mean, there are people who hate chocolate and like poha in this godless world as well.