COUNTING...STILL!

It all started with the irritated retort of a friend telling me to shut up for good when I was regaling him with the number of grams I had lost post workout in the gym. Though it did hurt a bit at that moment (for losing a drop out of the ocean of fat meant quite a lot to this peri-menopausal self-obsessed woman), in retrospect it seems that my friend was right in reprimanding me for this paranoid obsession with numbers. Strange how a number makes something seem important, relevant and immediate. And these days, when one – to – one human interaction is a rarity, we seem to have taken this obsession to a whole new level. I remember the grown-ups during our times stress over the number of guests expected for social gatherings like weddings, or discussing about not having enough money in the last week of the month for the necessities of life; their rendezvous with numbers stopped at these issues only. But our generation has become obsessed with numbers in a whole new light involving everything about our existence. There is an alarming increase in the tendency to rely on numbers as the sole measurement for achievement, without taking into consideration the range of other influences.

A few days back, I was browsing thorough travel sites to add a few places of interest in my bucket list. The advertisements and pop-ups ran something like “36 Hours in Buenos Aires”, “Six Things to Make a Flight More Comfortable”, “Top Ten Travel Mistakes and How Not To Make Them”, and etc, etc. I wonder how can it be possible to enjoy a holiday when I have to keep counting the hours at a particular place, the steps to be taken up to view the glaciers, the kilometers to be covered to see the flowers bloom…A mere quantitative outlook erases the nuances and the distinctions. Will I not miss the opportunity to have that unclassifiable, mysterious experience that existed when I was a kid and travelled without GPS and never knew after how many kilometres or hours the destination will arrive? The white and yellow milestones with the ominous numbers declaring “JORHAT 102 km” seemed nothing less than guardian angels. I also miss the enthusiastic overzealous bystanders playing carom (with kerosene lamps for better vision) who gave maze-like navigation ideas when they were asked about the directions to a particular place.

There also seem to be a dearth of real popularity these days. A place, a person or anything for that matter (including Justin Bieber’s shoelaces) climbs the ladder of popularity if it receives adequate “likes” or garners enough “followers” in social media.  The number of “likes and followers” makes or breaks a trend, a person, an event or a cause. One may look over at one’s competitor and feel disheartened by the fact that he/she  has far more fans and followers. But I wonder - are they all relevant – these ‘numbers’ of followers? Or are they just numbers for the sake of numbers?  Would it not be more practical and real if one  would rather have a handful of top quality contacts than thousands of followers who are purely following someone on the off chance that he/she too will be followed back and boost his/her own number of followers?

Political rallies rely on “number” of filled-up seats vis a vis the empty ones. And our media focuses on the huge crowd rather than the actual work that our elected leaders perform for the people who voted them to power.

Going back to the point from where I began this note, I agree that all this rigmarole of gymming, working out, jogging and all should be something pleasurable, something to look forward to. It should not zero down to something that is daily checked in uncalibrated weighing scales and counted in obscenely expensive fitness trackers. A favourite dessert should be relished just for the taste; it should not end up giving guilt pangs because the calorie-counting-device raised an alarm.

But yes, there are a few numbers from the yore which I miss. There was a time when I remembered all the landline phone numbers; with connectivity landing up in my palms about 15 years back, I seem to have lost my penchant for phone numbers totally. Also it is difficult to remember the birthdays of relatives and friends, unless I am prompted by the social media sites to wish someone dear.   

Sometimes I wish I could just do away with all the numbers that crowd my life these days. I already know how to count to a hundred. And I am sure I will never need more than a hundred of anything.