Code 100

What’s with people? WhatsApp has removed the last vestige of common sense from a lot of them. There is such a lot of fakery expressed on this platform that I struggle to hold my peace at times. WhatsRight with WhatsApp is the title of the book that I will never write.

Imagine this: someone’s elderly father-in-law dies.

Straight to the WhatsApp groups:
“My father-in-law died in his sleep. He was 94.”
The group is now buzzing with activity. Every man, woman and their dog is writing, writing, writing. Then the deluge.

“Oom Shanthi” accompanied by the obligatory Oom symbol in Devnagari script. Folded hands, mostly brown to match one’s skin tone, some sombre white flowers …

“May his soul rest in peace” accompanied by more emojis.

“God bless his soul” chimes in another, more emojis.

Multiple variations on the God theme. Poor God is overloaded. S/he has been commandeered to look after the departed soul, make sure it is resting peacefully somewhere in the ether, proffer her/his ‘lotus’ feet as shelter to the millions of freshly departed souls.

“I am devastated by your loss” writes the more literarily accomplished, able to string a full sentence together. Devastated? Are you real?

Reminds me of the telegram codes we used back in the days. As each telegram was charged by the number of words it contained, one could use economical standard codes that transmitted a standard phrase. Code 100 simply said, “My deep condolences.” Neat. Sadly, Indian Telegraphs have abandoned telegrams. @Meta are you listening? Please introduce standard phraseology. I am drowning in bs. So is God- overworked and drowning in bs.

The one occasion when I couldn’t hold my peace leading to threats of eviction from a WhatsApp group was when someone’s grandmother died and a member consoled the bereaved,
“I am sure she is playing in the lap of God.”
“She was a grandmother, not a lap dancer,” my fingers won the race with my brain and before I knew it, the message was sent and read by the permanent residents of WhatsApp. I still bear the scars of that exchange.

So, next time someone dies and you never even knew this person existed, don’t go overboard. Don’t send those cheap overused emojis or those creepy flowers. Just say, “My sincere condolences.” Even better, say Code 100.