Privilege

Instagram is no more fun. It’s not vacay pictures, wedding bells, entertainment scoops from Diet Sabya, or gym spottings of Viral Bhayani. It is the mitochondria for a movement, a pressure group that has managed to bring the least caring citizens of the country to pause, read, and make sense of it. So much so that they have now come to the streets to protest. This is a new India.

A part of me trulyyy wants to join the protest. Not because I know all about it (and not because one more person would suddenly make a huge difference), but because every time I see a picture of Abhijeet Dipke, Saurav Das, and Ashutosh Ranka, I get a lump in my throat. It’s guilt.

The last time the protest was on, I was in Delhi, at Jantar Mantar, two streets away, in a star hotel, at an event hosted by Times Network. Mind you, the agenda was driven by politicians and held water because we did not address the elephant in the room. I remember how a woman decided to speak about Sonam Wangchuk, and everyone went silent. I left the hotel and was on my way to meet my boss for dinner. There were jammers around the place. We couldn’t make calls. The internet was a joke outside. I spotted over a 100,000 cops with lathi's on the streets, a zillion police vans.

I met my boss, we ate some kickass dinner, had hot chocolate, and ended the day talking about how we both couldn’t join the protest. You know, you can definitely be working with a media company and be going to a protest. Our channel did cover it after a few days. But you know what the catch is?

My boss and I manage Corporate Communications for Times Network. There was so much uncertainty that if they detected our faces and it came up, things might go crazy at the job, uncertainty because maybe the protestors were against the same media house that pay my bills. The same media that is being called out by the protestors and is being treated like shit.

Soooo, I go there, and when they say “GODI Media,” what do I do?

Okay, okay, it’s just a job, maybe that’s what you think. No, I think when you’re with a legacy brand like the Times Group, it’s not just a job.

You know, privilege is subjective.

Knowing that my company backs me to a certain extent, when needed, sorta empowers you. When you know you make massive calls that change the way campaigns are done, show descriptions are mentioned, the control you get, the narrative you build. There’s sooo much more to it.

Privilege is when the doctors at Breach Candy treated my father no less than Amitabh Bachchan and gave him top-tier service because they knew his daughter was employed with the Times Group.

It is privilege that one of my grandfathers, who used to be an IAS officer back in the day, calls out to people and mentions where I work. You know how tables turn. You know, when I was a small girl, we were introduced to him, and he ignored our existence. Cut to him wishing me on my birthday and introducing me as his pride. You know what it takes!?

And there’s so much more. It is too difficult for me to give up on this. Tell me, how many people do you personally know who are employed with Times Network? Why do people’s eyebrows go up when they know that I’m with the Times Group? Why do people change their tone?!

It’s not me. It’s you. 

There’s a long “Oh” that people let out the minute they find out where I’m employed. This is privilege. I repost, and I wait. I stare at the photos of the three boys. I see every Instagram story. I encourage everyone to go. I do have major FOMO, but it is what it is.

Will I name my child Abhijeet or Saurav? I might.

Will I go to the protest happening today? I won’t.