Humour by Rehana Munir: Five much-touted experiences that usually disappoint

Those deflating moments when enthusiasm turns to dissatisfaction aren’t alien to us in a world where things are hyped

Anticipation is a beautiful thing. But very often, the thing in question simply refuses to live up to your expectations. Here’s a look at some popular misconceptions that keep us hooked.

Bathtub bliss

Like any middle-class 90’s kid, I’d always found the idea of bathtubs exceedingly glamorous. I gawked at Cindy Crawford in George Michael’s Freedom! ’90 music video, and at Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, while still in my stone-washed denims with a Ninja Turtles motif. Alas, the fantasy was too, well, fantastic to be true. All my own encounters with bathtubs have been infinitely less sexy. I’ve thrown more salts into one tub than all the Victorian heroines put together have been forced to smell. I’ve tried rolling up a towel to use as a pillow. Sipped on a glass of Martini. Flipped the pages of a fashion magazine. But it’s just too much bubbles-and-steam for my spartan sensibility.

Perhaps all these lockdowns and distancing protocols have forever cured us of our collective solitude fantasy. Or maybe they’ve driven us deeper into it. I, for one, am all for sweet solitude—only if I have the option of human contact as a contingency plan. Treks and dives, camps and drives are all okay, but they’re all made possible by human endeavour. I’m one of those anomalies who likes social contact for its own sake; from buying household supplies to booking travel tickets, I prefer a human to a digital interface. Those far-from-civilisation leisure spots, where you’re charged more money to not get a supply of electricity and internet, are a good change for about three hours. Whether you’re on the top of a hill or the edge of the ocean, a friendly smile is as attractive as a crescent moon or frilly wave. The best part is: you don’t really have to pick between nature and humans, or solitude and company. You can have it all in whatever combination you choose; or at least, aspire to.

Food recommendations

Nothing kills the appetite as effortlessly as the overenthusiasm of a foodie. We all have our favourites that we evangelise to our friends, only to find them underwhelmed. Some of them will sweetly lie to spare our feelings, thus making us feel pitied as well as rejected; others will break our hearts brazenly and call it “being frank”. From family delicacies to seasonal favourites, exotic cocktails to posh desserts, we’re constantly bombarded with preparations that we’re supposed to love, but which test the limits of a relationship instead. I’m forever trying and failing to infect loved ones with my zeal for the Gujarati undhiyu and Bengali shukto. Luckily, there’s a near consensus on sarson ka saag.

Live acts

Every few months, I develop a strong craving for a live performance and I run into the battlefield unprepared. I’m a cautious chooser of books, but when it comes to the stage, I don’t give myself enough time to think better. And so, I’m drawn to a play, concert or recital, replying to some tribal instinct for the need for community. Often, the event is so breathtakingly dull or grating, I question my tendency towards self-sabotage, even as the performers before me declaim pretentiously or dance bloodlessly. And the face mask only makes the whole situation worse. This is where I renew my subscription to a conscience, tell myself how the arts are integral to the construction of better world, and train my thoughts on the alcoholic release to come.

Mindfulness rituals

This kind of disappointment comes in many forms. It begins with expectations that range between instant upliftment and total transcendence. It could be a relaxing spa treatment that you’ve been dreaming of, but what you focus on in the moment is a too-pebbly fountain, too-cold fruit bowl or too-hot towel. Or it could be a meditation routine in a group of like-minded people whom you realise (too late) are best met on a spiritual plane rather than an air-conditioned room. It’s when the music vibrations don’t soothe, chamomile tea doesn’t heal and the supposedly edifying original series makes you wonder what you’ve done to earn the eternal wrath of algorithms. Pro tip: An unplanned nap is a great antidote to enforced mindfulness—as also any other kind of interference with your forever-threatened calm.

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From HT Brunch, December 19, 2021

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