As this dramatic year slides into the last month of 2025, it kinda makes most people feel a bit stupid. We scratch our heads, roll our eyes, look heavenwards and wonder – “Where the hell did 12 months go?”
Ummmm… Errrr… Those months went where they were meant to go. But where did we go?? The actual question cowards (like me!) dread asking is to themselves -- where were we when 2025 was happening? In an emotional/intellectual coma? Deadened by global events that brought the world to the brink of annihilation? Frustrated by what’s going on in our backyard (think Bihar)? To avoid plunging back into a black hole of depression, we got busy. But busy with what? Thinking what? The world was spinning away at its usual dizzy speed. While we watched, too numbed to react to all the horrors around us.
The year 2025 is already a blur. In fact, such a huge blur, that it’s best to forget the months gone by and simply look ahead. For, if we dare to look back, it will only be in anger (thank you, John Osborne).
At the moment I am fascinated by the just announced “Word of 2025”. According to the Cambridge Dictionary, that word is “Parasocial”, which beat “delulu”, “slop” and “skibidi” (among other entries), to win the “honour”. My personal favourite is “vibey”, which refers to a place that has a good vibe (Alibagh!). I also like “Breathwork”, which is a fancy word for “Pranayam” and describes a technique that involves conscious control of breathing. “Tradwife” is a bit too sexist and borderline offensive, since it alludes to a married woman who stays at home, cooks, cleans, looks after the kids and shares this lifestyle on social media. Sounds like a lot of wonderful ladies one knows and loves. But isn’t it time for “Tradhubby’’? I know quite a few -- darlings, all! The roles are not just getting reversed, but redefined in a non-combative, non-judgmental way. A meme of Lalu Prasad Yadav’s unsolicited advice to Rahul Gandhi had me in splits. “Get married… how long will you manage with the election symbol?” The Congress’ symbol is a male hand. No further explanation is needed!
Aaah… the power of words! “Parasocial’’ is defined as “involving or relating to a connection that someone feels between themselves and a famous person they do not know”. Let’s call it the Rajnikanth phenomenon. Last week, the superstar, often saluted as “Thalaivar”, was paid the ultimate tribute by a national newspaper when the publication transformed its front page into “Rajnikanth Times” -- the first time in the paper’s century long history that a front page has been dedicated to a single individual.
Fifty years of Rajni in cinema is indeed a landmark. Here’s where “parasocial” comes in -- during the five decades of Rajni domination, an avalanche of “parasocial” relationships were spawned across generations -- millions of Rajni fans who felt so intensely connected to their idol that they imagined they were an intrinsic part of the superstar’s life. “Parasocial” is not a new word. It was coined in 1956 when two Chicago sociologists noticed television viewers developing parasocial relationships with TV personalities, who they treated like close friends or a part of their family.
In India, our heroes are often treated like gods and publicly worshipped. Some movie stars have temples dedicated to them. Are these fans that “delulu”? Go figure. Meanwhile, beware of the intrusive power of ChatGPT. There are countless folks out there who have developed a serious “parasocial” relationship with the AI monster, treating the beast as a friend, counsellor, confidant, even romantic partner. Call it a reflection of the current zeitgeist -- by any name, it is an extremely troubling development.
Meanwhile, I am in the throes of lit fest mania, and have thoroughly enjoyed the ones I have participated in so far. Every nukkad has a lit fest these days, as authors promoting our latest title, we charge across the length and breadth of our vast country, peddling our latest book. And no -- even after my 28th offering, I am not done with the circus. Nor am I jaded, faded or cynical. Never mind that the eager school kids in uniform who occupy many rows at crowded venues are there under duress and may never have read a book in their lives.
The rest of the audience is made up of retired, genteel people, often high-ranking faujis, leading sedentary, uneventful lives in salubrious climes. A lit fest in town, with free entry, sees senior citizens out in full force, happy to fling on shawls, cardigans, caps and socks while earnest historians provide insights into important chapters of India’s turbulent past. Confession: I have signed up for sixteen!
The Author’s Lounge, designed to provide a much-needed respite between intense sessions, sees its own pecking order at play. God help lesser beings if Shashi Tharoor rolls in, followed by a panting entourage of easy-on-the-eye female volunteers in their best saris. Mighty self-styled intellectual egos get instantly crushed as The Tharoor effortlessly commands the space, proceeds to be annoyingly charming towards all and sundry, while obliging any and every selfie-seeker with a broad smile and a characteristic toss of the hair. With every appearance of his, Shashi Tharoor’s army of dedicated “parasocials” just grows and grows. If only some other political party would shrewdly hijack Shashi and capitalise on his star power! But would that “other” party make him CM of Kerala? Or PM of India??? Ambition ka sawaal hai, boss!
The collective vocabulary of desis is at stake! As overawed organisers of the Mumbai Lit Fest mentioned, the besotted Tharoorites were seen running behind his car as it sped away from the venue. This, in a city that’s pretty blasé and nonchalant about political celebrities breezing into town. It’s great that someone like Shashi Tharoor draws capacity crowds at literature festivals, which have seen a depressing decline in sponsorships. Without big ticket brands to back them, it’s very challenging to keep the show on the road. Despite the shrinkage of funds, it’s amazing how many established lit fests still manage to bring in a roster of Nobel laureates and award-winning international writers.
Mercifully, the bar rarely runs dry! Liquor companies have sweetly decided that nothing fuels great debates and combative conversations at lit fests than a timely drink or two or three or even ten! That’s the spirit!
