Kamal Ghorui
Rajesh Uncle’s fingers trembled with excitement as he peeled away the transparent wrap from his new smartphone box. Wow! this one has three cameras! Three!
He announced to his wife, Lakshmi Aunty, who was more interested in her pickle-making than Rajesh Uncle’s gadget obsession.
Lakshmi Aunty rolled her eyes and replied with a sarcastic voice – “it’s your fourth phone in last two years, and still, you can’t figure out how to unmute yourself on family video calls”.
But Rajesh Uncle wasn’t listening. He was already lost in honeymoon phase with technology – where everything feels magical, necessary, and slightly intoxicating.
Meanwhile, across town, his grandson Arjun was experiencing his own crisis. His (eye)Phone XX Pro MX was merely six months old, yet the new (eye)Phone XX+1 Pro MX advertisements haunted his Instagram feed like persistent ghosts. Each sponsored post whispered the same seductive lie: “You’re incomplete without me.”
Rajesh Uncle’s three-camera phone brought him unlimited joy. He photographed everything – his morning chai, neighbour’s cat, dried leaves and what not. He showed these photos to everyone who made the mistake of sitting next to him.
But this joy continued exactly for ten days only. On eleventh day, his friend Sharma Ji arrived with a phone that had five cameras and could apparently photograph the moon as well. Suddenly, Rajesh Uncle’s joy evaporated like morning dew.
Few photographs from Sharma Ji’s phone, made Rajesh Uncle think – “Mine is an outdated one”, while staring at his eleven-day old, new smartphone with disappointment.
Arjun’s story was even more tragicomic. He’d saved for months, skipped movies, avoided ordering food, all to buy his dream phone. The unboxing was ceremonial – he even recorded it for his 2.5K Instagram followers (half of whom were probably bots, but who’s counting?).
The dopamine hit lasted through the weekend. By Monday, tech reviewers were already discussing the next model. By Tuesday, his happiness had been replaced by a gnawing feeling that he’d bought the wrong phone at the wrong time.
Welcome to FOMO – Fear Of Missing Out – the modern epidemic that nobody is vaccinated against.
The smartphone industry has perfected a brilliant psychological trap. They’ve convinced us that happiness is just one upgrade away, that contentment is waiting in the next release cycle, that our current perfectly functional device is somehow betraying us by being few months or few days old.
Rajesh Uncle murmured, “Why did I buy this one, with only three cameras?”, while clutching the phone that did everything he needed and several things he’d never use.
“Lakshmi Aunty finally asked”- With two more cameras who do you want to impress? Are you planning for a new bride at this age? Again, with a sarcastic smile
But logic has no place in the FOMO economy.
The breakthrough came during a family gathering. Indian families have a way of delivering life lessons between gossips and Gulab Jamuns.
Rajesh Uncle was sulking in the corner, doom scrolling through phone reviews, when his five-year-old granddaughter climbed into his lap.
“Nana, why are you always looking at your phone?” she asked with the brutal honesty, that only children possess.
“I’m just… checking something, beta.”
“But I’m here. Right here. Who else are you searching for?”
That innocent question from the little one, hit differently Rajesh Uncle, but in a hard way.
Across the room, Arjun was showing his cousin his phone’s features – the 120Hz refresh rate, the dynamic island, the ceramic shield. His cousin, who had a three-year-old phone, listened patiently.
“Sounds amazing,” she said. “But honestly, I’m just happy I can call my parents and watch recipes on YouTube. The rest is… nice, but not necessary, you know?”
She then proceeded to show Arjun photos from her recent trek – ordinary photos, taken on an ordinary phone, but capturing extraordinary moments of genuine connection with friends.
Arjun felt something shift inside him. All his phone could do was take slightly better pictures of the same lonely moments of him, in form of few selfie photos with non-living backgrounds.
This conversation also hit Arjun hard.
The happiness from digital devices is like sugar – quick, intense, and ultimately leaving you hungrier than before. It’s designed that way. The tech industry has monetized our dopamine receptors.
Real happiness, the kind that cherish us, doesn’t come in a box with a charger and warranty card. It comes from moments that can’t be photographed with even the best camera – the warmth of a conversation, the comfort of presence, the joy of shared laughter.
Rajesh Uncle eventually made peace with his phone. Not by upgrading, but by simply using it as a tool, not a trophy. He started leaving it behind during evening walks with Lakshmi Aunty. Those walks, he discovered, were far more interesting without the constant urge to check for updates.
Arjun took longer to learn this lesson. His wake-up call came when he realized he’d spent more time watching reviews about phones than actually talking to people using his own phone.
What can be our take away from these two stories?
The perfect device doesn’t exist. But the perfect moment – the one where you’re fully present with people who matter – that’s available right now. No upgrade required.
That moment when we can put the phone down and actually be present with someone? That’s where happiness lives. It’s worth connecting with the friends / relatives who still uses an old device but always remembers to call us on our special days before the social media prompts for it.
It’s time we stop measuring our happiness through Smart devices. Rather, to get connected with nears and dears, not through Bluetooth or Wi-Fi, but with the Smart human connection for our Smart Happiness.
Do you use the Smart Happiness feature? Or still obsessed with the 120Hz Happiness Trap?
Do let me know
On your Marks get set go happy!
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