Edited by: Stuti Sharma
“Only my heart” replied Agha Shahid Ali, a Kashmiri poet, to the airport security guard when he was asked if he was carrying anything dangerous with him, in a scene narrated in Amitav Ghosh’s ‘The Ghat of the Only World’. This has somehow stayed with me ever since I read this as part of Class XI English.
If the heart is so dangerous, then the act of tearing one of its pieces for scrapbooking its feelings, how dangerous is that?
To ask the internet if I can enjoy rereading my poem after developing resentment towards its muse (he unintentionally, unknowingly hammered my heart)?
To let the internet know about my worrisome relationship with validation?
To reveal that I am still figuring out politics unlike many of my peers with sheer clarity?
My fingers shake a bit as I write these sentences here– retelling, reliving that my heart has been kept bare open to strangers, to my loved ones– fear of being perceived, perceived ‘differently’ kicks in.
Many fears own sprawling mansions in my head. But this one is like a pillow house (fort), a token of young teenage years. This fear does not stand that strong, things can overpower it. They do overpower it. Like the feeling of not fearing alone,, the motivation to get my feelings (and literary skills) validated, the motivation to convey indirectly what remains out of the scope of face-to-face conversations. All of this makes me post my feelings on Instagram in the forms of poems and write-ups.
Meanwhile in this process of writing and posting, I convert my feelings into your [consumed] content. Does this contentification of feelings degrade their status of being unadulterated/authentic and a marker of the supposed compassionate idea of ‘humanity’? Does contentification render the product, in this case- poems, superficial?
For this article, I would like to define content as any visual, auditory or literary ‘art’ made with the intent of being published for an audience online. To ‘contentify’ something is to alter it to some extent based on what sells, to cater to the targeted masses (defined in whatever terms). Because of this, contentification is often criticized for diluting the worth of the creation in terms of aesthetic, intellectual and creative values. It may be a deviation from complexity in the “first creative impulse”. Not to forget that contentification is a product of capitalism which reinforces competition, does not deny appropriation of others’ ideas and in the process, and disregards the artist.
At the same time, content may help us sustain the culture it has taken birth into. It can initiate conversations that are otherwise blocked by stigma. As antithetical it may be to capitalism, this very content can help in community-building, through the shared experience of relating to something, for example- unrequited love.
A go-to conclusion for many debates is trying to strike a balance between the two distinct extremes. In this case, a balance between aligning one’s [presented] content with one’s feelings and making content for others’ consumption. I find this unnecessary.
I am ready to admit that a bit of my content on my Instagram page like a reel on types of Maggi has been created just to increase the reach of my page– a blatant submission to the algorithm. But at the same time, much of my work is guided by my experiences and is intuitively produced. Just because something is on Instagram does not mean that it has lost its roots, its meaningfulness. But can I make a confession? I thought about why I only write and post about uncertain identity and unpleasant feelings – Is it because I have observed that people on social media would much rather bond over rants and negative experiences? So does this mean that social media censors my creativity? Like many others, I write because writing is cathartic. It helps me achieve clarity and organise my emotions better. Even though this is a foggy situation to be in, I think as long as I feel that I have been sincere and remain attached to my process and product, I can call my work ‘art’ (this is independent of its quality, reach, likability and level of skill exhibited). At the same time, it’s a conscious and non-hesitant decision to have my feelings become your content. If in no other way, then this is how our life paths cross. Just like they did right now. Until we meet again.