An Ode to Indifference

Indifference might well be the best superpower we can have today. My father, for instance, cannot tell, and Anil Kapoor from the Kapoor called Ranbir and wouldn’t know either if they popped out of a birthday cake and sang Disco Station Disco, and he is much happier for it. Not caring about celebrities begins with not knowing who they are. It is easy to look down upon celebrity culture and to vent about its ubiquity and uselessness, but one is still enmeshed in the Matrix; one is simply on one side of the fence. But the playground is the same—a world infested by celebrities. In outraging against them, we acknowledge their power.

 We get a sense of this power when we come across self-important influencers who we have no clue about. They might be extremely well known in their arena of involvement, but to the rest of the world, they are narcissistic freaks who are excessively in love with themselves as they make spectacles of themselves on some public street while shooting their latest reel. The power we feel at being able to dismiss them and think of them as jokes stems from our indifference. The ability to dismiss as drivel what one section of society thinks no end to is priceless. Who, for instance, is Elvish Yadav, and why should I care?

 This came to mind during the endless discussions surrounding the Big Wedding. sorry Pre-Wedding. Everyone had a view, and those were enthusiastically shared, making it impossible to escape the subject. There were a lucky few who hadn’t tuned into the event at all and seemed completely clueless about what happened, who attended and who didn’t, who wore what, and how it stimulated the economy or didn’t. whether it displayed India’s clout or highlighted an abject lack of taste and imagination, what it said about us, India, our society, or the post-social media world. It was a blissful form of ignorance and, more importantly, of indifference.

 I envy people who do not follow cricket, particularly on occasions when our team is doing badly or when it contrives to lose a game it should have won. Looking at people who go nonchalantly about their work, not a crease on the forehead nor a burning desire to smash things—but a serene expression on their face that seems to communicate either a divine sense of bliss or musings about their next meal, one is torn with envy.

 Similarly, there are people who are not on social media, and contrary to what most of us would believe, they are able to breathe in and out, have their motor skills intact, and can string out words in a sentence coherently. Perhaps more so than the rest of us. Opting out, not as a mark of protest, for then one is constantly in awe of one’s own nobility, but simply because it seems pointless and uninteresting, is so much more potent a weapon against a phenomenon that takes itself so seriously.

 Politics, too, is an arena that has engulfed us and miniaturised us into labels that brook no deviation. Once we embrace a label, we are trapped in it and perform our duties as mandated. We must slant our views on all sensitive subjects, shut out evidence to the contrary, celebrate victories on our side with disproportionate glee, and spin our defeats expertly. It is our solemn duty to fight against a contrary opinion and to seek refuge in the banality of like-mindedness. We are convinced we are right, and that can be an exacting burden to carry.

 Being apolitical may not be the answer, however tempting that might be, simply because one cannot escape the consequences of politics. But the ability to focus on other parts of life, to retain the ability to believe but do so with a sense of perspective, and not care about every little atomised bit of provocation that comes our way might ease mental health issues and provide a sense of perspective.

 There are self-conscious opters out there, those who seek to ‘live off the grid’, by staying in remote places and eschewing technology and, more generally, the modern world. This is one way, of course, but it requires a lot of effort. It is a laboured and self-conscious form of freedom. One is as caught up in one’s opposition as one would living ‘on the grid’.

 Indifference is different. It allows us to shrug our shoulders and refuse to take the world seriously. One follows the pursuits one enjoys but refuses to become part of a larger machine over which one has little control. A life steeped in the everyday, without arrogating to oneself any larger role or taking on responsibilities for the world beyond our immediate circle, might seem escapist, but there may be wisdom in it.

 The fact is that we are being shaped by the tools we use and find ourselves inextricably tethered to a world without end or relief. Everything seems urgent and important in the world, and even the thought of opting out feels like an act of dereliction, of running away from the real world. But this is not the real world; it is an entirely fabricated universe with its own rules, which we are made to follow without knowing fully what we are signing up for. It has changed us in many fundamental ways and continues to do so. Fighting it from within isn’t useful because any participation increases its power.

 The problem, of course, is that for most of us, it is too late. We cannot feign indifference, for our thinking now is too deeply affected by the media we consume. We live in a symbolic world generated by electronic simulation and cannot extricate ourselves from its abstractions. We react constantly to stimuli and feel bereft in the absence of constant injections of dopamine. We feel most alive when outraged or angry. And there is always something that feeds our appetite.

(This is a version of an article that has appeared previously in the TOI)