Our desperate need to impress

If we redecorate our homes, the kind of sofa we choose is based more on how opulent it looks than how comfortable it makes us feel. Representation pic

I sometimes think it was Indians who invented this notion of ‘the big show'. We all know what that means: the desperate need we always feel to show off and tell the world that something important and monumental is constantly happening in our homes. It is the need to make others feel as if their lives are less exciting than our own; the urge to constantly do or say something that places us and our tiny happenings at the centre of things, irrespective of how rich or poor we may be.

Take a look outside your window for proof. Chances are there is someone outside in the middle of their own big show at this very minute. There may be balloons and flashing lights, the ear-splitting thump of bad music to signify an important event, and men in polyester suits walking around trying to look important because someone they know has just had a child, an anniversary, or a wedding. It's why so many of us survive on credit, borrowing large sums of money we don't have to throw parties we can't afford, just so our relatives can think of us as more successful than we really are. It's no wonder a concept as evil and despicable as dowry originated on our shores and continues to survive despite our best efforts at eradicating it. It's all an act.

We live our lives obsessed with what people around us think. On a personal level, this affects how we plan our birthday parties and what we put on social media profiles. Our Facebook feeds are less about sharing aspects of our lives that mean something, and more about flaunting the meals we have eaten or vacations we are about to take. Our LinkedIn timelines are an unending stream of desperate notes boosting the fragile egos of MBAs who have few genuine accomplishments. It's why they write 5,000-word posts about their journeys from business school to middling start-ups, talk about how they have changed the lives of their security guards by offering them health insurance, and post images of certificates from digital marketing agencies to show how they are constantly focusing on improving themselves. Everything on LinkedIn is a plea for attention, and we choose to applaud these dim-witted CEOs, COOs, and CTOs instead.

On a macro level, this obsession with projecting an image takes on a more disturbing hue. It involves taxpayer-funded full-page advertisements in national newspapers, ugly hoardings blighting every street corner, and rallies abroad as a replacement for intelligent foreign policy. This is the kind of desperate need for showing off that leads to embarrassing photoshoots involving peacocks, yoga poses, and the wearing of faux army fatigues. This is why our politicians trot out their ageing parents for candid photographs to be shared on Diwali or Mother's Day. It's all for show because they know their audience is one that values spectacle more than substance. It's why our economic policies are a joke, but those responsible can get away with murder. Who cares about accountability when a staged picture will do instead?

Every aspect of how we conduct ourselves in society is governed by this need for approval. If our children wear something, it is based upon what our neighbours will think. They are pushed into schools and courses that elicit approval from outsiders while riding roughshod over what they really want to study and spend their lives doing. It's why so many of our engineers are deemed unemployable because they are coerced into engineering schools by parents who don't care about what they wanted to learn. It's why we continue to have students studying for degrees in science and commerce by rote, acknowledging the need for art only when they hit middle-age.

If we redecorate our homes, the kind of sofa we choose is based more on how opulent it looks than how comfortable it makes us feel. When we go on holiday, the destinations we select depend less upon where we really want to go, and more on where we think people expect us to go based upon how much we earn. We lose a little bit of ourselves in the process, then compensate for this loss by counting the number of likes our holiday photographs bring us on Instagram.

There is a price that must eventually be paid for this emphasis on optics, of course. There is only so much that can be hidden under a rug until it starts to peek out from under a corner.

When he isn't ranting about all things Mumbai, Lindsay Pereira can be almost sweet. He tweets @lindsaypereira

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The views expressed in this column are the individual's and don't represent those of the paper