modern life – The Monkey Dilemma

So I’m in my 40s now, and one thing I’ve noticed lately is just how serious many of my peers have become.

Of course, the reason is obvious – life happened. Careers happened. Marriage, kids, ageing parents, bills, responsibilities… they all have a way of changing you. It’s not like our 20s when many of us had fewer worries and life felt a lot more carefree. Growing up changes everyone.

But even then, the transformation is fascinating.

I’ve seen people who once had the most ridiculous sense of humour become almost unrecognisable. The ones who could turn any conversation into a comedy show are now quiet, serious, and sometimes even a little weighed down by life. It’s sad to see, but I understand it. That’s what life does.

That seriousness has shifted online too. Most of the funny content is by Gen Z.

I’m guilty of it myself. Somewhere along the way, I also started posting only about serious issues rather than silly ones. I look at my old posts on Facebook and don’t recognise myself either.

Surely life isn’t meant to be taken this seriously all the time?

Take the Reposts tab on Instagram, for example.

When I open someone’s reposts, I’m hoping to learn something about them. What kind of humour they enjoy. The movies they love. The random memes that made them laugh. Maybe a dog video that melted their heart. Something that tells me who they are.

Instead, I often find an endless stream of political posts.

By the time I leave their profile, I know exactly which political party they dislike, but nothing else about them.

It’s strange. Politics has become such a huge part of social media that it’s slowly replaced personality. Our online identities now revolve around what we’re against instead of what we enjoy.

I’m trying to disconnect from all of it, but it feels like a lost cause. In India, there’s almost no escaping politics. Even when you’re sitting in a hospital waiting room in Kerala, there’s usually a news channel playing on the TV. It’s as if we’re not allowed to switch off from the constant political noise, even when we’re unwell.

And when did millennials become this serious?

We were genuinely funny. I would even argue we were funnier than Gen Z.

Every now and then, I go back and read old Facebook posts and comments, and it’s like opening a time capsule. People teased each other endlessly. There was harmless banter, ridiculous inside jokes, and conversations that wandered off in every direction.

Nobody was trying to go viral. Nobody cared about engagement or reach. We were just… hanging out online.

Of course, social media algorithms haven’t helped.

Today, a post from your friend with 4 likes gets buried, while a random stranger whom you’re not following ends up at the top of your feed.

Half the time, when I open Facebook, I’m looking at people I’ve never met. If I actually want to see what my friends are posting, I have to switch to the Friends feed. Extra steps, too cumbersome, leading to less engagement.

I really hope someone builds a social media platform that brings back what made the early internet so much fun. A place where the goal isn’t chasing likes, growing followers, or gaming the algorithm.

Just a place where friends share everyday moments. Random thoughts. Terrible jokes. Blurry photos. Half-baked opinions. Embarrassing stories.

You know… life.

I would join that platform in a heartbeat.

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Photo by MART PRODUCTION

Most people say travel is rejuvenating, but no one really talks about what happens after the trip ends. This feels especially true for people with desk jobs, regular 9-to-5 schedules, or the kind of overtime-heavy work culture that has become common in India.

Once you return from travelling, you are often left with an unsettling feeling. You begin to realise how much of your life is spent restricted to a desk, tied to routines and responsibilities, while there is an entire world outside waiting to be explored. New cities, different cultures, mountain roads, local food, conversations with strangers, and experiences that make life feel bigger than your daily routine. Travel has a strange way of making ordinary life suddenly feel very small.

The truth is that most of our lives are spent working. We spend decades chasing stability, salaries, deadlines, and financial security. Only after retirement do many people finally get the chance to explore the world properly, spend more time on meaningful things, or simply move through life at a slower pace without constantly watching the clock.

After my recent trip, I finally understood why many people choose to limit travelling to retirement. Because when you travel while still working, the months that follow are spent thinking about retirement itself. You start questioning the structure of life in a way you probably never did before.

I think most people are not really craving luxury nowadays. They want peace. A chance to step away from competition, pressure, expectations, and the endless cycle of productivity. But financial responsibilities keep most of us attached to the lives we currently live. And if you think about it, it really is a sad state of affairs. So much of life passes without us truly knowing the world outside our routines. We spend our healthiest years working, saving, and postponing experiences for “someday.” Then, when we finally have enough time and freedom to explore, our physical health may no longer allow us to travel the way we once dreamed of.

Sometimes it genuinely feels like a trap. That is just how modern life is designed. The very rich can afford to live slowly, travel often, and experience the world freely, while the rest of us remain tied to jobs so we can eventually retire with enough money to live comfortably later in life. Until then, most people continue surviving between deadlines, stress, and short vacations that end far too quickly.

It has now been two months since my trip ended, and the feeling of missing the mountains still has not faded. I miss the slow life and mental peace I experienced there deeply. Returning has brought a quiet sadness that has stayed with me ever since. During those ten days of travelling, I experienced bliss as I consciously stayed away from the internet and social media. Honestly, it felt like a relief. When you are travelling, you do not really need distractions because the world around you becomes interesting enough on its own. Every moment feels fuller and more present.

Back home, though, life goes back to screens, schedules, and desk work. And sometimes the internet becomes the only way to explore the world when your real life feels limited to routines.

So now I sit with these thoughts quite often. There is a sombre feeling attached to them. I acknowledge these emotions and quietly hope that one day I return to the version of myself that existed before the trip, when I did not constantly think about whether I was missing out on life, the world, new people, or new experiences. Back then, work and everyday routines felt enough. I was content simply engaging daily with the people I already knew and focusing on responsibilities without questioning life too much.

But travel changes something inside you. That is the difficult part about it. It is both beautiful and cruel at the same time. It opens your eyes to how much more life has to offer, while also reminding you how little time most people actually get to experience it. As the euphoria of the trip fades, the ache lingers.

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Photo by George Pak