Articles by Sidin Vadukut

Business

Column | FOMO and instant regret on WhatsApp

Friends, readers and people who purchased street food in old newspaper and are now reading this while consuming vada pav or dabeli or some such item, lend me your ears. Because I have some bad news for you. And that bad news is this: there is less than 14% of 2025 left. No? Still not feeling a sense of alarm. Let me explain this in terms that anybody in India will understand. If the year 2025 were a T20 innings, then we currently have less than three overs of batting to go. See. Now you feel a sense of urgency? Very good. Now, most other columnists will tell you that this is the time to take stock, reflect on the year that has passed, before you even think of planning for the year 2026. Those columnists are fools. Ignore all of them. Taking stock, looking back, reflecting and all are such 1990s concepts. Along with other outdated concepts such as ‘parliamentary language’, ‘law and order’, ‘journalism’, ‘humility’, ‘dental hygiene’, and ‘stable job’. Instead, it is time for us to look forward. This is the perfect time for smart, informed readers such as yourself to start planning for your New Year’s resolution. Perhaps you want to lose weight. Or save more money. Or eat more protein. Or spend more time outdoors. Or maybe 2026 is the year you finally figure out what a ‘mutual fund’ is. (Don’t ask me. I don’t know anything about personal finance. My constant doubt is this: if it is called a mutual fund, then how come I am always giving them money, and they never give me any money?) But if you are struggling for a genuinely useful, life-changing idea for a New Year’s resolution, then look no further. I have an idea. And it is such a great idea, that it requires its own lexical entry. Earlier this month, I met a friend who is also a fellow football fan. Midway through our conversation, he showed me a football joke on his phone. It was very funny. We laughed heartily. And then I asked him: “So who sent you this joke, bro?” I call everyone bro, except my actual brother. Who I call by the same name my mother used to call him: “uncultured barbarian”. Bro said: “Oh, it was sent on this WhatsApp group. The group is for hardcore Indian football fans. Some very famous people are on it.” Readers, how do you think I felt? Exactly. That irresistible human urge to hear of a WhatsApp group and then immediately feel tremendous social pressure to join it, in order to avoid the Fear of Missing Out. This urge is one of the strongest forces known to science. For nothing triggers the primal gene in our brains more than the idea that somewhere out there other humans are congregating secretly. So, of course, I begged him to add me to the group. A few days and numerous reminders later, he added me. In that moment, when the notification popped up on my phone, it felt like I had become the first man in history to win both the Nobel Prize for Peace and the Mr. Universe contest. Readers, this excitement lasted all of 180 seconds. For in those 180 seconds, I realised that I had just done it again. I had once again voluntarily joined a group of the most under-employed, irritating, shameless, spammy, joke-recycling people. The joy turned into regret instantly. But now, I was in a quandary. I could not leave without making my friend look bad. I could not participate in the conversations because I am not a moron. Instead, I quietly archived the group. And once every week or so, I go back to the group and say “LOL” or “Haha” or “Shabaash!” to one of the comparatively less offensive jokes. In fact, there should be a word for this regret one feels immediately after joining a WhatsApp group that one was very eager to be a part of. And that word is: chatastrophe. Example sentence: “Within three minutes of joining the ‘Hardcore Babu Antony Fans of Europe’ group, Rajesh experienced acute chatastrophe when he realised it was just members reposting their execrable LinkedIn posts.” And that is my idea for a New Year’s resolution. Dear readers, I implore you to make 2026 the year that you will no longer succumb to chatastrophe. Fight the urge. Save your phone. Protect your brain. Have you joined any WhatsApp groups that you instantly regretted? Leave all the gory details in the comments. Or send me an email. Maybe all of us can form a WhatsApp group? The writer helps early stage companies communicate better. He blogs at www.whatay.com.