It’s all relative

I suddenly remembered a conversation I had with a girl I went to school with, some 10-odd years back.

She was unpopular. As was I.
She didn’t care about being popular. I did.
I remember pitying the lowly creature.
I asked her what she liked to do in her free time and she answered math. Strike one.
I asked her what shampoo she used for her hair and she answered Soap. Strike two.
I asked her what games she liked to play and she said she enjoys Yoga more than games. Strike three.
That was, ofcourse before Yoga was the cool thing to do.
I remembered this today because my friend and I were talking about being really embarrassed about what we said and how we behaved when we were little.
I have a whole lot of those memories but nothing embarrassed me more than this.
Since childhood we’re told what’s acceptable and what’s not. Our parents obviously try to make us as non-judgemental and level headed and instil in us those “Good Indian Values” that everyone keeps talking about but all that goes out of the window once you find out you’re young and attractive to the opposite sex.
The cool American TV shows you watched, the girls you hung out with, the brand that your schoolbag was made of. All those things marked your place on the social map.
But we can make an excuse for all that, we were young, impressionable and frankly pretty stupid.
But what’s our excuse now?
The TV shows have been replaced by the places we go to and our choice of drinks.
The peer groups, replaced by our wealthy social circuit.
The brand of schoolbag, replaced by the brand of watch/sunglasses/shoes/clothes.
What’s the next stage?
Worrying about the brand of your dentures?!
I’m fretting about this today because I’m going back to a city and a profession which is full of shit like this.
Your commercial success as a fashion photographer is vastly dependant on the high-profile contacts you have and directly proportional to the number of parties you host where you talk about your life “abroad”.
You boast about the wild parties you went to when you were in London/New York/ Paris and pat each other on the back for being masters of the universe.
It’s pathetic and shallow and disgusting.
My only hope is that in 10 years time I still feel the same way…
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