In the very few attempts that I have made, in pointing the camera at the self, I have failed and faltered in remarkable and noteworthy disgrace. The case in point being, the random stranger who finds himself / herself standing in my proximity or disinterestedly strolling by, loudly, sternly, disapprovingly hurling the word “Smile!” in my direction. That moment rattles me beyond comprehension, for here I am, trying to do what the rest of the camera afflicted world is doing, and trying very hard to project, I repeat, project, a sense of the-cup-overfloweth happiness, and failing every time, or nearabouts. And I truly marvel, yes marvel, those gifted creatures, who break into spontaneous and unadorned insta-joy, from the death-is-I-morose to the 1200 watts of the cup-overfloweth in a split of a second every time, with the precision of a neuro surgeon, and the practice of a retiring saleslady. Then I slump back and half-murmur to my bewildered and somewhat flummoxed self, as I do ever so often, “Here is a generation who can smile without meaning to, here is a generation who can smile without feeling a thing, here is a generation that comprehends presentation over spectating more than you will ever do in your brief lifespan”. The ‘news’ feed with its ‘epic’ pointing at the self moments – ‘too-bad-you-weren’t here parties’ ‘leap up in the air vacations’, ‘bet you can’t touch this’, ‘ya-who buddies’, ‘ecstatic partnerships’, ‘super yet nonchalant achievers’, ‘mirror-mirror-on-the-wall’, ‘we-have-just-met-we-don’t-know-each-other/s-from-Adam-and-Eve’, and so on, you get the gist of it, are truly embedded in the fabrication of its own fabrication. Still trying to wrap my disjointed head around this one. I will, I suppose, eventually, a smile or grimace at a time. Read More…