The complexity of our present times has offered us the
chance to view our own realities from a veritable smorgasbord of lenses, if my
patient reader will forgive the awkward synesthesia. It is possible to live an
event and examine it immediately in flashback without troubling one’s memory
cells.
The other day, we attended a wedding reception. The first
hour of the festivities was devoted to what the hosts referred to as Recall
Reels. We were treated to witty observations about the life-thus-far of first
the bride, and then the groom, as various relatives of the couple took the mike
to accompany the film-collage with underlying movie songs played in tandem with
the pictures and live commentary. We enjoyed the first few minutes immensely. However,
as the hour wore on, the pictures began to take on a monotone, not of the
subject matter but of mood. These were, obviously, supposed to depict lives
spent in sheer joy. Images caught people in mid-laughter, eyes sparkling at something
behind or above, just out the range of our vision, hair afloat in becoming
abandon. Then there were pictures of immaculately groomed children, eyes
scrunched shut in concentration as they blew out birthday cake candles, flames
steady, ribbons and bow ties standing to attention, adoring, clapping people
surrounding the cake. Always, always, the focus of all present in the
photograph seemed to be the young bride and groom. It seemed as though all
through their childhood and youth, these two people’s families and friends had
deliberately hoarded up a trousseau of pictures they could exhibit on their
wedding day, so we would know how carefree and abundant their lives had been.
Such exhibits of perfected lives have expanded from an hour
during a wedding reception, to everyday chronicles on social media sites, like
Facebook. I see only exquisite views of mountains, rivers, oceans beneath a
colorful sky seen through window frames; the camera always misses the sink of
dirty dishes just beyond the breathtaking view. I imagine the owners of such
windows as gazing out, sipping some tall, cool citrus-y drink, no dishes,
floors, or counter-tops ever to be cleaned. These owners are usually accompanied
in my imagination with the most perfect of friends or spouses or pets.
Most people I know, who take lots of pictures, screen their
imaginary lives very carefully. Of the thousands of images they capture, only a
few are deemed “Facebook-worthy.” These images do not necessarily depict a
reality hitherto unsuspected by the viewer, nor do they offer an insight into
the personality of the subject. On the contrary, it would seem that these
images are carefully chosen to display a perfection of an imagined self, which
often renders the subject unrecognizable. These people glow with satisfaction every
time I exclaim at their profile picture, “Is that you? I did not even recognize
you!” Apparently, this is the most appropriate reaction sought for.
I suppose it is human nature to wish to garner as much envy
from one’s world as one could manage. This envy is synonymous with admiration,
a trophy of some sort that assures the subjects they have arrived, worked hard
and achieved the glint of I-Wish in the eyes of beholders. If, indeed, this is
the aim, then it is attained. I must confess to wishing for your perfect
Facebook life. I covet your excellent health, to bite a pie of the warm
laughter of your gatherings, discover the exotic worlds you are always globe-trotting
to; I want the top 95% you earn in all Facebook quizzes that gauge you to be
among the smartest of all, hunger for all those delicious, easy-peasy recipes
you share, and of course, I crave most ardently that window you gaze out of.
Beware, Perfection! As that vignette of a flawless life gets
uploaded for all to see, make sure of a dot of kajal on its back (where it will
not be seen) to ward off the evil eye.
