Notifications will be the death of you.

Notifications are an ugly bunch. 

Do you get notified about the thousands of seconds that you wasted on Instagram? Do you get notified about how you’re looking at reality through a million pixels and filters? 

NO.

You get notified about the pretty filter uploaded on Instagram. Upon further investigation (By that I mean clicking on the notification and check out the picture.) you realize it’s actually a photo of a genuinely pretty girl, with an ungodly ugly filter. Or just an ugly gal with an ugly filter. 

You get notified about the likes you got on your recent picture. It’s all fun and games with dopamine until you ascertain the number of people who just scrolled by, or misclicked the photo.
But don’t you worry, Instagram won’t notify you of that. It cares about you, immensely (and the data you give it so willingly).

You get notified about a recent follower. You presumably have no answer as to why would you want someone following you, but Instagram says its a good thing, so it probably is.

Here’s a thought experiment, 

What if someone were to emulate your failures? Would you be worried? Would you be terrified to actually see the reality of yourself through your own eyes? Would you be amused?

You get notified about the picture Kathy just posted of her dog. What the dog has to do with the inspirational caption below is an enigma. But was it worth the 2 minutes? Let‘s agree, even the 2 minutes is a lie. The notification likely let you down a rabbit hole and you‘ve been scrolling for 2 hours ever since the notification came through. 

Scrolling the feed of #dogs for 2 hours is justified. But encouraging it through enabled notifications is not.  

 

You get notified about the weather through the stories of a long-lost, utterly tasteless friend of yours.

You get notified about the Gucci undergarment your favorite celebrity just bought.

You get notified about the recent vacation your friend is on.

You get notified about the recent fued of Taimur khan with Kareena because she made him eat his veggies.

You get notified about the date your catfished friend is on.

You get notified about the overpriced, scammy coffee your friend is drinking.

You get notified about the 1 in a 100 photo Sharon posted of her posing in the trashy washroom.

You get notified about what’s going on in the world.

But you also get notified about the memes mocking the very incident.

You get notified about a motivational post your friend posted.

Yeah, the one who cannot for the life of them, wake up before 12 pm.

You get notified about how your friend is struggling with bad mental health.

You don’t get notified about how no one reached out to him.

But you do get notified about how depression is a major cause of suicide in the current society.

You get notified about the outing your friends had, the one when they forgot to invite you.

Notifications are an ugly bunch. They lure you in. They demand you to pick up your device. They’re designed to capture your attention. The peculiar pings and sounds are engineered to grab your attention. They are crafted in a way, so as to keep you trapped.

Why on earth would let an inanimate object dictate your actions? 

Social media as a whole isn’t all that bad. Hypocrisy is scattered throughout this article, but it’s not far from the truth. We’re all victims of this inevitable epidemic. All we can do is reduce the collateral it causes.

Disabling the notifications won’t harm you. You shouldn’t need to know about something unless you desire it.

Be the commander of your thoughts and actions and don’t fucking complain about boring your life is.

Instagram is a rosy cheerful place where the viewers are miserable and  posters are happy.
Ever so often, they switch places.
Only if the posters were sad and the viewers were happy. The world would’ve been a much better place to live in.

 

DISABLE THE GODDAMN NOTIFICATIONS, YOU DON’T NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THE 100th BREAKUP OF BELLA HADID OR YOUR DUMB LOVESICK FRIEND.

 

also, make sure you follow me on instagram. Dm me a ❤ and be sure to turn on my post notifications. Turn the others off.
Thank you. Love you. Bye.

Come back, my love. (A short story)

A light, melodious tune flowed through the air. For a while, I thought it’s the neighbours trying to liven up their lives for a little bit. But as usual, the sounds come from the weird, music guys practicing downstairs. Jambo’s is what they call themselves. Pretty funky name. They also call themselves a jazz group. Music seems weird to me. Strumming on a random object just to make the air wiggle in a certain way seems like a futile effort. But the music that the Jambo’s play is something different. It’s not extremely pleasing per se, but it their music doesn’t hinder my train of thought and irritate me.

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I open my eyes, its evening. With the setting sun, the lights around the street come alive. I walk around the room for a while, aimlessly. Eli isn’t awake yet. But a certain looming feeling of solitude seeps in. I go up to Eli to find her missing from the bed. It’s not unusual to find Eli missing from where she’s supposed to be. She always does that, leaves when I’m sleeping and comes back later in the day. It’s weird. I’ve never questioned where she goes, maybe it would be an invasion of her privacy. But its heart wrenching.

I’ve dared to ask once, but she refused to tell me.
You won’t understand Yukio, You can calm down.” Is what she said.
But I can’t stop myself from thinking about it a lot.

Eli is a beautiful person. She’s one of a kind. Other than being around her, there’s no place I’d rather be. She’s quirky, very moody and sensitive. She’s the kind of person who would get upset over the pettiest of things. She once got sad because a stranger didn’t acknowledge her “Bless you” to his sneeze.
I remember how she sulked the whole day.

What’s wrong with putting a little kindness into someone’s day?” she said as she wept with her arms around me. “Couldn’t he just smile back? A thank you would be wonderful.” She complained.

She’s magnificent, the most generous person in the world. She’s my favorite person in the world. Strangers might not acknowledge her sweetness, but I never miss a chance to acknowledge her presence. I never miss a chance to embrace even the crudest of thoughts in her mind. Her quirks, flaws, acne (which she spends weeks complaining about) and her elegant personality is what I try to embrace to the fullest. She’s the tiny, immaculate, essential piece of stardust floating around in this dying void of a universe. A glimmer of hope. She’s that exceptionally gorgeous stranger you never get the guts to talk to. She’s precious. But it’s tough to figure her out sometimes.

She’s a gorgeous enigma. A riddle to open the gates of heaven. She behaves erratically at times. When she’s sad, she’ll talk a lot. I’m more a listener and she loves that. She’s always grateful that I pay heed to her continuous complaints. But to be honest, I love listening to her. It’s another puzzle piece. With every word I listen, I’m a step closer to figuring her out. When she’s happy, she’ll keep jumping around. Her happiness has become a major source of my happiness too. I can’t help but smile, giggle whenever I find her jumping around, dancing. I never miss a chance to dance along with her. But there are times when she gets sad, but doesn’t talk. She shuts herself off. That’s what kills me. Sometimes when she is happy, she gets sadder. It’s tough figuring out this state of mind. Happiness to me feels like binary. You’re either happy, or sad.
But the way she behaves has me concerned at times. Maybe I’m not mature enough for her.

She isn’t at home most of the time. Which is understandable, she has to go. She works day and night to put food on the table. I offer help, I’m always ready to go along with her. But she refuses. She’s very diligent. She hunts every day, works extremely hard to fend for us. I can’t express in words how thankful I am for her presence.
But there are days when she comes late. I try to inquire, but she is always devoid of excuses.

You won’t understand Yukio, I know you missed me.” Is what she always says as she hugs me. The hugs are genuine. Her warmth, soft touch makes all the concern vanish every time.

Recently, she comes late more often. I can’t help but think about where she has been. My mind races whenever she’s not around. Morbid and dirty thoughts fill my mind. But she always solves everything with a hug every time.

But today feels different. “She’s not coming back.” says my mind as I stare at her unmade bed. She has been very sad lately. She has also been pretty distant. She hardly talks. She spends most of her time outside and when she’s home, she sleeps. On the days when she’s at home all day, she sleeps till the evening. She’s out most of the day after that. She’s always tired enough to not hang around at the end of day. Often times I feel like she’s grown tired of me. Maybe I’m boring, maybe I’m not good enough. Maybe she has found someone better. Someone a tad bit more handsome. Someone competent and obeying. Even though I love her unconditionally, it isn’t enough. Often times I’m convinced that she’s going to leave. She does leave at times, unannounced, but she comes back when I’m asleep.

But today is different, today is bad. The lights on the street are dimmer. The air around is thicker. She’s gone. She’s not coming back.
If only I knew where she goes every day, I could go searching for her. But she wouldn’t want that. She wouldn’t want me to come searching for her. She wouldn’t want me to worry about her. Worry from my side is a worry for her too. She’s the kindest, the most precious little woman who walks this earth. Maybe I deserve to be alone, maybe I didn’t love her enough.

It’s a sad day. Her absence gives a whole new meaning to solitude. There’s something off about life when she’s not around. The tiny lights surrounding the wall of images she shot seems ugly without her touch. The room seems dense and suffocating. I walk to the kitchen and stare at the drawers and the floor she once stood on. I could feel her hand reaching out to that steel handle of the drawer as she willfully and gleefully prepared dinner. If I only I loved her more, if I only I talked. If only I talked instead of listening.
My ears long to hear those three words. Those three words that always made me smile. The words that always made me feel alright. She knew how it made me feel. The words that made listening worth it. The words that expressed her undying love. The words, which I’m unsure if it were a lie or not.

I sit at the window she used to sit at always. With a book in hand, she always seemed peaceful at this spot. Which made it my favorite spot. She always hummed the tune the Jambo’s play as she turned over to a new page of the book. I try to look for her from the window. Try recognizing her from the silhouettes of people walking by on the street. A futile effort. In a strange move, I call out her voice. Maybe if she is around, she might come back.

“Come back” I whimper to the lonely street.

But alas, she’s the dream I can’t continue once I’m awake. I walk back to the sofa. Watch the door. As I look around, a certain kind of sadness takes over me. The jambo’s still seemed to be practicing, but the sound seems weird this time. I hear her voice, the three words lingering. It’s depressing. I lie down on the sofa, close my eyes, pretending it would make everything alright.

Wherever she is, I hope she’s happy.” I say with a whimper. “Come back
I wish I could hug her one last time. I could express how much I love her. How much she means to me. How grateful I am for her presence. Hear her say those three words.” I speak to the melodious wiggly air.
Soon, the music stops. Silence takes control of the air. It’s not peaceful, but heart wrenching. The feeling I got when she came back after a long time, but had no excuses for her excursion. She’s gone. No more questions.
Its tough, I don’t think I can ever move on. Those three words still linger through my mind as I wonder if there’s a point in going on.

Suddenly, I hear a sound of someone unlocking the door. In a split-second I find myself running to the door. Eli is at the door. Looking as radiant as ever. I don’t stop to admire her and pounce on her as soon as she steps through the doorway. She hugs me tight. As usual, the warmth, her soft touch melts every shard of pain embedded in my heart. She holds me for what seems like an eternity. I refuse to let go.

With her arms around me she says those three words, and i can’t contain myself. I cry like a baby (or a puppy) , whimper relentlessly. “Hey, Good boy.” She says as runs her fingers across my fur.
Where have you been?
Where do you go, Eli?
I love you so much.” “Please don’t leave again.” “I promise I’ll be a good boy.” I cry to her and she giggles.

Sorry for leaving you yukio, I had some work. You won’t understand.” she says to me as she caresses my fur. She boops her nose with mine.
I need to know.” “I’ve got to know.” “You need to tell me right now.” “Please don’t leave again” I cry as I jump on her and refuse to let go.

Hey, you won’t understand my good boy. But I’ll have you know, I got selected in a band. Do you understand music? I bet you don’t. Anyways, I’m a part of the Jambo’s baby!” she says to me and I feel the happiness she’s trying so hard to contain burst through her skin.

We spend the whole day together. I refuse to leave her side this time around. Every second I’m expressing my love, my loyalty and gratefulness. She feeds me and calls me a good boy. But what makes my day, is to see her dancing again. Dancing because she’s happy.
Today, she’s genuinely happy. I thought she used to go hunting to bring me food. But apparently, she uses wiggly air to bring me food. Which is weird.
Music isn’t useless after all. It brings me food. It made my Eli happy. The two things I need in life.

She hums the tune the Jambo’s play as she jumps on her bed with joy.
Music is weird.

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