The story unfolded like a fairy tale. But with a twist. This time it was not about a princess, but a young boy. Oblivious of his looks, the boy earned his living by selling tea, fruit and vegetables at a Sunday bazaar. He had no phone and did not know how to read or write. And yet, he dreamt of helping his poor parents. One day a fairy clicked his picture and posted it on Instagram. The picture captured the imagination of the world. The hot chaiwala morphed into a cool model. He appeared on television, graced magazine covers, bagged modeling contracts and walked the ramp. Dizzying, isn’t it?
Welcome to a world where one picture holds the potential to change the story.
This is what happened to eighteen year old Arshad Ali Khan, an ethnic Pashtun in neighboring Pakistan. Neither reason nor logic applied to the mass hysteria that followed. His picture was shared more than 30, 000 times. Lucky chap, for none of his seventeen siblings had such fortune. Yes, 17. Deal with it.
Arshad, however, was unfazed. “I came to know this morning that I am very good looking,” he said. I don’t know if his charm resided in his innocence or blue eyes, but what I know is that he was a buttered toast for social media.
Don’t we just love social media? Every tweet and update is a tribute to ingenuity. Once the topic goes viral, we feverishly engage in outsmarting each other until the virus is eliminated. So, for some Arshad became Pakistan’s latest nuclear weapon and for others - a dove. If one wanted to ‘make tea, not war’, another tweeted, “A chai wala from Pakistan is now famous on Indian social media. This is truly aMan kee aasha.”
And then there were angry birds who love rivalry. Hand on heart I’ve never heard such comparisons. “My Chaiwala is more handsome than your Shah Rukh Khan,” chirped a pretty little thing. Really? Okay kiddo. We will talk when your Khan wins the ‘Koffee with Karan’ hamper for a fourth straight time.
Another abiding feature of social media is the ‘like mentality’ - an unsaid social media compulsion. You like what your friends do. Dosti ki khatir. Obliged by social media, smitten girls flocked ARK’s tea stall to click pictures. With full make-up and blow dried hair, they pouted and posed. It was a matter of ‘like and death’. Oh, common, be fair. Who clicks selfies with a chaiwala unless he was a PM or a social media sensation?
Thereafter, all the chatter segued into some talk about reverse objectification. For once it was the girls who were lusting after a good looking boy. Thank heavens for the fact that women refrain from specifics, even if it’s locker room talk. Girls went as far as becoming a chai addict and dreaming of being served some ‘kadak’ chai. That’s it.
Just when I thought that the storm in the tea cup had subsided, I saw a tweet from a cute little sparrow in heat. ‘Arshad, will you marry me?’ Dear girls from Islamabad to Moradabad, sorry to burst your steaming hot bubble. The Chaiwala may be your cupcake but how long can you look at him? What if you want to discuss demonetization and carbon emission?
Regardless, the objectification charge was silly. Meaningless actually. After all, the camera was simply a catalyst in a win-win situation.
But wait. Let’s get serious. Arshad Ali Khan is not the only viral sensation. The stupefied picture of a Syrian child, Omran sitting alone in an ambulance comes to mind. Likewise, the haunting picture of Aylan Kurdi, a drowned toddler. Far away from Instagram and way before Twitter, the 1984 portrait of Sharbat Gula, the Afghan Girl’s piercing eyes had shaken our soul. Perhaps it was those intense eyes - a tapestry of tragedy and pools of grief. Come to think of it, her image was etched in our memory without the clutches of social media - no re-tweets, no likes and no shares.
For positive tales like Arshad, social media can be a fairy Godmother. But the only thing shorter than public memory is public attention. Overnight fame can provide a fillip to a muse or a cause, but it does little to change stories. What exactly are we doing for other Omrans being rescued from the rubble? Is our heart bleeding for the Afghan Girl who was arrested in Pakistan for forging national identity card?
Just when I thought that the storm in the tea cup had subsided, I saw a tweet from a cute little sparrow in heat. ‘Arshad, will you marry me?’ Dear girls from Islamabad to Moradabad, sorry to burst your steaming hot bubble. The Chaiwala may be your cupcake but how long can you look at him? What if you want to discuss demonetization and carbon emission?
Regardless, the objectification charge was silly. Meaningless actually. After all, the camera was simply a catalyst in a win-win situation.
But wait. Let’s get serious. Arshad Ali Khan is not the only viral sensation. The stupefied picture of a Syrian child, Omran sitting alone in an ambulance comes to mind. Likewise, the haunting picture of Aylan Kurdi, a drowned toddler. Far away from Instagram and way before Twitter, the 1984 portrait of Sharbat Gula, the Afghan Girl’s piercing eyes had shaken our soul. Perhaps it was those intense eyes - a tapestry of tragedy and pools of grief. Come to think of it, her image was etched in our memory without the clutches of social media - no re-tweets, no likes and no shares.
For positive tales like Arshad, social media can be a fairy Godmother. But the only thing shorter than public memory is public attention. Overnight fame can provide a fillip to a muse or a cause, but it does little to change stories. What exactly are we doing for other Omrans being rescued from the rubble? Is our heart bleeding for the Afghan Girl who was arrested in Pakistan for forging national identity card?
Yes, we love the Chaiwala’s rags to riches story. In fact we love fairy tales - not because they tell us about monsters but because they tell us that monsters can be overcome. That there is hope. Compassion. But social media is fickle and news ephemeral. And yet, if viral images help a cause or a muse, it is a welcome part of digital times. We are ready with our likes, shares and re-tweets.
