Image showing the Whatsapp logo.
Credit: Reuters File Photo
Wars are raging constantly – over geopolitics, tariffs, land acquisition, or technology. And then there is the war within: the battles of morality, ethics, and conscience. But a new warzone has suddenly emerged: WhatsApp. Quick to communicate and easier to disassociate! If you are part of a group, you are doomed; and if you’re the hapless ‘admin’, you have to tread on egos as fragile as eggshells.
On my morning walk, I passed by a group in animated conversation. The bone of contention? A member of their WhatsApp group had bought designer outfits at discounted rates and hadn’t breathed a word about it. The tirade: Why didn’t she tell us about the sale? She sends so many forwards daily, but not a mention of this.
I received collective glares when I ventured that perhaps she wanted exclusivity. A few hundred steps later, I encountered the reverse scenario. Here the grouse was about a member who constantly floods the group with pictures, clogging up storage space.
The gripe: Does she think her daily routine is so exciting that we must see it all -- feeding her dog, watering the plants, or making parathas? And those endless good morning and good night forwards. Every day I have to delete at least 50 pictures. She ought to understand. When I posted my Switzerland trip photos, she replied with just an emoji!
After decades, a long-lost college friend sent me a WhatsApp message. I took a few days to respond – it was only a no-rush, ‘nice-to-reconnect’ kind of message. But the delay angered her. In her mind, WhatsApp messages deserved instant replies. Result: we are no longer friends! Another acquaintance of mine calls from different numbers and locations. If I don’t pick up because it is an unknown caller, the WhatsApp bombardment begins. I end up retreating into a war-zone shelter and cutting off communications.
There are all kinds of groups on WhatsApp – school, college, extended family, apartment, and then smaller ones splintering within. In theory, they are ideal for sharing useful information and fostering camaraderie. In reality, it’s just an imagined utopia. A family friend insists that the worst of the lot is the apartment group. Initially, everything is smooth, with polite exchanges and a benevolent facade. But give it a few months, and the masks come off.
The diatribe: He hasn’t paid maintenance for two months. Garbage clearance is his responsibility. The building needs painting, but funds are short. There is seepage from the flat upstairs; the owner should pay, and so on. And suddenly in the midst of all, one chimes in: Where can I get copper vessels? Do you know a good plumber?
Checking and responding to messages can become addictive. Whether you respond with enthusiasm or indifference, fingers will point at you. Perhaps the safest way is to choose the middle path: When a friend asks, “What’s up?”
“Nothing, just WhatsApp,” I reply.