How Happy Is Your Timeline?
A DIY butterfly garden by the author, posted on social media. Photo: Barkha Kumari
In the crippling second wave of the pandemic, that pleasant Instagram reel is a distraction for some and a privilege for others. Barkha Kumari dials in the social media generation and mental health experts for their take on the dilemma of the public display of happiness.
I was a late starter on Instagram, mostly inactive until the pandemic forced us all indoors last summer. But ever since I found my feet on the platform, I have been posting photos of the exotic bread and desserts that my partner and I bake, snaps of DIY projects where I have turned river stones into owls and bugs, and glimpses of how we transformed a kitchen wall when pakodas exploded in the wok, spraying oil all over. I put up throwback albums of mountain treks and house parties too. On my stories and feeds, I share comic content, cute illustrations, viral dance videos and thrifty craft ideas. Before I knew it, Instagram had become second nature, a pick-me-up.
Facebook is passé. And Twitter, I reserve it for my work.
Over the past few months, however, my Instagram has worn a different mood. My stories have either been amplifying appeals for hospital beds, oxygen and plasma, or posts to highlight the great work COVID-19 volunteers are doing around the country. Other times, my stories can be like a news bulletin, mostly critical of the government’s unpreparedness to fight the second wave, one that has killed 40% of the 2,50,000 Indians since the contagion first hit. As for my actual Instagram feed, I haven’t posted anything new since mid-April.
As a result of this dilemma—or ‘conscientious gatekeeping’ as I call it—I have stopped sharing happy portraits of my life, which have anyways become sparse since the second wave of the pandemic’s outbreak.
A question had been niggling at the back of my mind: Is it the right time to post anything but COVID information or reactions on social media? Can I make feel-good, non-COVID posts when people in my country are dying, gasping for breath, or scrambling for resources to try and make it through?
These dilemmas have held me back from sharing whatever little moments of joy I have mustered to beat the gloom, whether it’s repairing a floor mat with an old saree, or polishing off a nachos platter that my partner improvised from the chapati dough. If I post these, will I come across as indifferent to the grief my friends and their families are going through? Will I sound tone-deaf insensitive to the collective plight of India, which also includes the danger the frontline workers are courting daily, the job losses, the black fungus, the white fungus, and on and on?
Worse, will people call me out for flaunting my life that hasn’t been scarred by the novel coronavirus yet? Remember, how Bollywood actors were trolled for jet setting to the Maldives and posting sun-kissed pictures from the beach vacay. Or, the criticism that followed when Indian cricketers checked into the ‘bio bubble’ to play the IPL. Lifestyle influencers have also been snubbed for pushing products with rose-tinted posts.
While I think celebs in India have always been soft targets, ‘common people’ have also come under the radar now. Posts urging us to refrain from uploading photos of birthday bashes, garden blooms, mornings with bae or Mother’s Day tribute were issued early on—by the people, for the people. Even when well-intentioned, these could sometimes be a simple plea, and sometimes, an angry threat.
As a result of this dilemma—or ‘conscientious gatekeeping’ as I call it—I have stopped sharing happy portraits of my life, which have anyways become sparse since the second wave of the pandemic’s outbreak. This doesn’t pinch me terribly but, yes, living on social media had become the new normal for me—and many others. It gave me moments to smile about, chuckle at, muse over.
Many used social media to amplify public-service messages of solidarity.
But is social media a mere distraction or a privilege that one should feel guilty about? My thoughts vacillate between the two, and I know that I’m not alone in feeling divided in this way.
‘We think before we post’
Take the case of Pavana V, a college student from Bengaluru. Before the second coming of the virus, she would treat her Instagram fam with memes, photos of oddly-shaped veggies from her farm, or embarrassing pictures of her buddies. But now, the frequency of private posts has fallen by 75%.
“Now I think many times over before making a post. ‘Do I really need to do this?’ I ask and then I share it instead with a few friends via DM. Some of my friends have also been second-guessing if they should put out their baking videos or dance reels,” shares the 20-year-old. The self-censorship, she says, is not out of the fear of backlash, but concern for those who may be struggling to cope with their loss.
But according to her, the rules of social media, unwritten as they are, don’t apply equally to celebs and common people. When everybody’s life has come to a pause, film stars and cricketers should also “pause in solidarity and use their money and social media influence” to alleviate the crisis than post travel pictures from a proverbial parallel universe of utopia. “Sonu Sood has been helping through the pandemic,” she gives an example.
In the same city is Shivani Vijay. She is wrestling with survivor’s guilt for having beaten the COVID-19 infection when others could not. Everything from having a family, a roof above the head and Netflix to chill feels like a privilege right now, she says. She was torn about the social media etiquette too, but she has come around it now. The 24-year-old entrepreneur says, “When I started a fundraiser campaign a few days into the second wave, I was judgemental of people who were posting personal pictures that time. ‘It’s not fair. They are enjoying life when I am working so hard (through the crisis),’ I cribbed. But I have realised that everybody—whether they have been impacted by corona or not—is trying to take care of their mental health. Social media, in that sense, is an escape for many.”
But why single out happy folks of social media for seemingly escaping, she asks. “If somebody is logging 10 hours at work, technically, he or she is switching off his mind from the COVID-19 crisis. That is also escapism,” she makes her case while going on to drop a nugget of wisdom, “Those who are judging people for their social media behaviour, how do they know the latter is not helping their friends, colleagues, maids and drivers offline?”
Having said that, she is posting fewer stories now “so the COVID-19 related information and appeals don’t drown in the scheme of things”. Polls and feminist discourse have been replaced with posts that will cheer people up. “Except political and hate messages, I deem everything fine to post,” she says.
‘Share your happiness’
Don’t hold back on what you want to post from your personal life, neuro coach Saloni Suri suggests. Her job is to train people to rewire their brains to achieve happiness. “These are very lonely times,” she says. “The more you retreat into yourself, the worse you’ll feel. This is the time to share happiness, love and hope with the world. It’s critical for a ray of sunshine to fall on everybody as there is enough darkness right now.”
Holiday posts—from Maldives, etc.—provided a surreal parallel life of distraction and privilege on social media as the pandemic raged in India
Don’t recede into your shell because your posts could be misunderstood, says Suri. That risk was there even before the pandemic and will continue when it’s over. “If your intention is to share happiness that you have experienced, you have nothing to fear. For instance, a post on how you helped your mum in cooking is in good spirit. But if you posted something to show off, there could be backlash,” she explains.
Bengaluru-based psychologist Nithya J Rao would agree: “It’s not inappropriate to post happy pictures and messages about your everyday life on social media as long as these don’t reek of toxic positivity and as long as these don't rub your privilege into someone's face. But choose your words carefully.” Instead of typing ‘Life is awesome right now’ under the photo of an appetising pasta bowl, try ‘Things are difficult, so I put together some pasta to cheer up'. “Be empathetic, count your blessings, don't be indifferent, basically,” she says.
Rao throws up a hypothetical situation to weigh in on the subject. “Imagine if everybody started posting stressful news and SOS appeals related to COVID-19 on their timelines, would we have any distraction, anything to smile at? This, when we are cooped up at home and when social media is our connection to the world. Easy to say, for most of us.”
‘Do a good deed and enjoy’
Finally, I took my dilemma to Keerthana V, a 19-year-old student from Bengaluru who lost her grandfather to COVID-19 and other complications recently, a bout that left her, her mother and grandmother down with the virus around the same time. “The past few weeks have been stressful but I won’t say that the normal social media posts upset me. In fact, I feel happy when I see others leading a normal life. I like watching dog videos and dance reels. They are a good distraction,” says Keerthana, who signed up on Instagram only recently.
“I have realised that everybody—whether they have been impacted by corona or not—is trying to take care of their mental health. Social media, in that sense, is an escape for many.”
Likewise, Dr Ssnegdha Sharma doesn’t feel bitter about people posting videos of babies, dogs and cats or reels on food and life hacks. This, despite being on the frontline of the COVID-19 war and losing a close family member to it. This, although a month ago or so, in a state of sickness, she lashed at Indian citizens for taking the crisis too lightly and forcing medicos like her to suffer in the PPEs non-stop.
Dr Sharma, who’s currently on a break from her COVID duty at the Christian Medical College & Hospital, Ludhiana, says, “As part of my training in community mental health, I learnt that all of us need to find sources to distract from things and triggers that make us sad. For some, it is watching IPL, for others, it’s being on social media.” For her, it’s following fashion posts, food snaps, memes or anything viral, and also Netflix.
If you are still unsure what your COVID-appropriate online behaviour should be right now, hear out Dr Sharma. “Stay at home. Contribute to the cause with money, by amplifying messages or by volunteering. And then enjoy on social media because you deserve it.”
Sounds good. Really. I am feeling better now, and may I admit, a little validated, too. It’s because my dilemma, like all dilemmas, wasn’t a linear one. My dilemma was more internal: Do I deserve a few moments of cheer and escapism? Have I done my bit to amplify the appeals for oxygen cylinders, ICU beds and medicines on the best crowdsourced platform that I know of—social media? Have I called up hospitals and volunteers to make these enquiries instead of conveniently forwarding them on WhatsApp with a few taps, hoping somebody else would do the hard work? Have I checked on my friends and acquaintances if they are feeling okay? Have I grieved along with them?
I have, indeed. And the introspection has given me the confidence to climb back to my social media ways.
Two days after I submitted the first draft of this article, I managed to post the photo of a ‘butterfly garden’ on Instagram, which I had made with shells, fallen gulmohar flowers, and a shoebox. My friends reacted to the post with ‘hearts’ and ‘claps’, and I was delighted. Later, I shared a heartwarming clip of an old British couple reuniting after a year of living separately because of COVID-19. It melted my heart and those who saw it on my ‘stories’. Then, I uploaded the news about a vlogger who tied a dog to helium balloons. It was enraging, and my followers shared that anger with me. Ah, how I missed these moments of virtual togetherness.
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Barkha Kumari is a freelance journalist and a lucid dream blogger from Bangalore. You can follow her on Twitter: @Barkha2803 and Instagram: @rainsnroses.
