Click on one news story, just one, and suddenly the internet knows everything – not just who you are, but where you live, what you fear, and which part of your body might be failing next. Welcome to the delightful digital stalker that is Recommended for You, powered by AI, spyware cookies, and a wicked sense of humour.
Living in Alwal, I can’t seem to scroll three inches down a news article without being accosted by headlines like:
‘Alwal Woman’s Rose Wall Stuns (Read)’ – next to a radiant woman in a saree surrounded by roses and suspiciously good lighting. I have lived in Alwal for years and never once have I stumbled upon a ‘stunning vertical rose garden’ while dodging potholes and autorickshaws. But it gets weirder.
‘This Dentist in Alwal Charges Less Than a Pair of Jeans’ – a headline that suggests my molars should feel guilty for existing at full price. Clicking on it takes you to a clinic suspiciously located 9 km away, ‘near Alwal’, which I am convinced is a real estate euphemism for Yapral.
‘Hearing Aid Prices in Alwal Will Shock You!’ – alongside a photo of an old man looking like he just learned that his WhatsApp group was a CIA sting operation. The price will not shock me, but the algorithm’s confidence in my auditory decline certainly does. I only searched ‘sound bar under Rs5,000’ once!
Then there was this gem: ‘Alwal’s Secret to Hair Regrowth Has Doctors Worried’ — with an image of a man sporting a suspiciously lush mane that clearly came from stock-photo-ville, not Alwal. Frankly, if anyone in my town discovered a secret to hair regrowth, it would have already been announced at the local temple via megaphone during evening aarti.
The creepiness doesn’t stop there. The ads now address me as if we were in a committed relationship: ‘Thinking of Retirement in Alwal? Think Again!’
‘Over 40 in Alwal? This Fruit Could Save Your Life!’
‘Alwal’s Widows Are Doing This at Night (Shocking)’ — I didn’t dare click. I was afraid it would just be them watching Karthika Deepam with subtitles and blaming Tulasi for everything.
My friend in Uppal, meanwhile, receives ads like ‘Uppal’s Divorce Lawyer Is Too Good to Be Legal’, and ‘This Mehdipatnam Teen Invented a Fuel Using Rasam’. It seems wherever you are, the algorithm follows you like your nosy colony auntie, only with better broadband and fewer moral boundaries.
I am beginning to suspect there isn’t even a real ‘woman in Alwal with a rose wall’. She looks like she was AI-generated after feeding 100 photos from Telugu wedding albums.
The worst part? These ads are tempting. I almost clicked on ‘This Trick Melts Belly Fat in Alwal’, but resisted after realising it might just be walking from Alwal Station to Kowkoor in July heat.
We live in the age of hyper-targeting, where your location, age, browsing habits, and the exact nanosecond you considered buying a juicer are turned into ad copy so personal, it feels like a relative wrote it.
If this keeps up, I expect to see: ‘Alwal Auntie’s Mango Pickle Recipe Breaks the Internet.’
‘This One Stretch of Alwal Road Could Kill Your Shocks. Mechanics Hate It!’
And one day – I am not saying it will happen, but I won’t be surprised: ‘Alwal Man Wrote About Alwal Ads. What Happened Next Will SHOCK You!’
