Humour: The middle order

Time was when people my age were expected to have, apart from the mandatory two children – one boy, one girl – a home, car, sizeable bank balance and sufficient standing in respectable society to their name. With ‘respectable society’ itself a contentious concept these days, stragglers like myself are somewhat vindicated in our dismissal of all the traditional markers of progress. This loosening of norms should ideally have eased life for us. But no. Where there is a human, there is a way to make existence more complicated than it needs to be. My generation of pre-millennials (I reject those classifications that slot me in the millennial category as ageist) is plagued by its own set of insurmountable issues, some of which are listed below.

The guilt trap

That great affliction we often attribute to Christian doctrine – guilt – is a big one to get over. There is so much that is wrong with the world that needs constant attending to, and we 30- and 40-somethings are in pole position to do the…attending. And yet it’s teenagers like Greta Thunberg who’re showing up for the planet, and university students standing up to be counted in the fight for democracy. All this should ideally push us towards the good fight. Instead I’m crippled by unanswerable questions like whether I should be using the geyser when it’s 32 degrees Celsius outside (I do). And so to the inevitable meal ordered off the delivery app, which poses its own confounding questions: What have I done to deserve this feast of sarson ka saag, chura parathas and gulab jamun? Before I can say ‘nothing,’ I’ve been seduced into cheap air tickets and hotel stays, all making a mockery of the austere socialist who resides in some neglected part of my head. (Right next to the section that stores the lyrics to T-Series classics like ‘Oh Krishna, you are the greatest musician of this world’.)

To shut out the voices, I have the perfect song on my phone (Leonard Cohen’s So long, Marianne). And then the much-longed for book on my wishlist magically appears in stock at the store (Adam Phillips’ Darwin’s Worms). And to make matters “worse,” it’s a pleasant day with a light breeze blowing, suffused with the sweet smell of possibility. Ugh.

Caged by freedom

I believe the now-distant and forever weird ’80s and ’90s give us this mixed-up quality. Those days of denim, disco and disappointment prepared us – at least those of us from modest backgrounds – for many stumbles along the way. What it didn’t really prepare us for was the easy gains. Good fortune is often tougher to take in one’s stride than disaster. And so one finds that in the absence of any searing struggle, everything becomes a challenge.

Tinder profiles attest to the fact that humans are their own worst publicists. I refuse to believe that the actual dating space is filled with those who think chakras and auras, or filtered pics and plagiarised quotes are the route to romantic bliss. Hourly updates about people’s dogs and children, gardens and wardrobes can be oppressive. At the other end is the committed aesthete/philosopher/pedant, dripping wisdom like it’s sweat off Dravid’s brow (’90s imagery dies hard).And also, what’s with everyone’s permanent obsession with IKEA?

Connectivity issues

We’re certainly not the boomers who head to the bank to visit their money every chance they get. But I wouldn’t call my generation true digital natives. In our tribe, we venerate those who painstakingly download things that shouldn’t be downloaded and share them with a largesse that is endless, just like Baba Sehgal’s repertoire. (See, really. The ’90s mess with your brain.)

What’s still tough to get used to is the 24/7 connectivity that makes people appear close. I miss those days of email chatter, everyone responding according to their own rhythms, without the pressure of ‘being there’ all the time. This torrent of communication – non-stop information, shopping, conversation – makes one consume more and experience less. (#firstworldproblems)

And yet… it’s not a bad place to be, this middle zone. The folks before us spent an inordinate amount of time on Chitrahaar and passbooks. The ones after us don’t know what handwriting is, and never want for sushi. It’s so much more poetic to be suspended between the old-world certainties of the boomers and the new-age optimism of millennials. Ah, the sweet spot where existential turbulence meets app-propelled convenience.Gen X is where it’s at. (Or is it?)

From HT Brunch, February 23, 2020

Connect with us on facebook.com/hindustantimesbrunch