The Like button, AP news agency reports, has come a long way since its humble beginnings as a doodle on a Yelp pad. Once a tool to rate restaurants, it is now a global metric for human worth, a currency of affection, and a subtle tool for mind games. What began as a noble effort to express appreciation with a simple thumbs-up has morphed into a finely calibrated social pressure cooker.
The morning call
It has power. It uplifts the lonely, affirms the anxious, and gives many a reason to post their lunch online. But it also torments. For some, the absence of a ‘Like’ on their heartfelt post feels like being ghosted by the universe. And then some can’t even be bothered to lift a thumb, not even for their dearest friends.
Take, for instance, one of my close friends. He rang me this morning, bright and early. We talked about our lunch gathering at a friend’s mango orchard tomorrow. A long and nice chat, except for one tiny topic: today (May 17) is my 34th wedding anniversary.
Hint not taken
Did he mention it? Congratulate me? Send a sweet message, or perhaps a digital heart? No. Not even a half-hearted ‘many more to come’. And this, mind you, is someone who has solemnly sworn – year after year – never to forget the date again.
Just as we were signing off, I gave him a chance. I said, ‘Hey, did you forget something today?’ There was a pause. A scramble. You could hear the gears creaking. Then came the reply: ‘How are you coming to the farmhouse?’ I gave up!
Like button blues
And this is where the Like button fails us. What is the point of a global symbol of acknowledgement if real-life friends still treat major milestones like pop quizzes?
The Like button, that noble invention of our digital era, was meant to be a balm, a bond. A ‘Hey, I see you.’ A ‘Yes, I care.’ But some people treat it like it is a once-in-a-year event. They will scroll past your anniversary post with the indifference of a judge on a cooking show. No comment, no emoji, not even a pity ‘Wow.’
Blessed by likers
Then there is the other end of the spectrum – the overlikers. These are people who hit Like on everything. Cat videos, traffic jams, photos of bruised knees, burnt dosa or chapati. They are the digital equivalent of clapping at the end of a flight. God bless them – we need them. Without their generous thumbs, some of us would have serious ego withdrawal.
Test of affection
But back to the milestone misery. Social media has turned birthdays and anniversaries into public exams. You post a cute couple pic captioned ‘34 years and counting… ‘ and wait. Ten minutes in: three likes. Twenty minutes: six likes. Half hour: 40 likes. Your spouse is watching. ‘Didn’t your college friend like it?’ ‘What about your office gang?’ ‘Even that childhood friend who forwards ‘Good Morning’ messages daily hasn’t reacted yet?’
Digital cold shoulder
And then, disaster: someone you always remember, always greet, always message on their special days – forgets yours. Again. Every year they say, ‘Next time, pakka I’ll remember!’ And then, on the day itself, they mention a friend’s birthday tomorrow and ways to celebrate the occasion.
Maybe they will remember by the end of the day. Maybe not. But if they do, I expect more than just a Like. I want a heart. A bouquet emoji. Maybe even a public apology tagged with #AnniversaryShame.
Because in the end, if a Like is the new hug, then forgetting is the digital equivalent of walking past someone you know in the supermarket – and pretending to check the tomatoes.