The Existential Dread of WhatsApp Family Groups

 

 Where emojis go to die, good mornings multiply, and your soul quietly withers

 

The Morning Message Apocalypse

“GOOD MORNING  HAVE A BLESSED DAY!”

It’s 6:01 a.m., and your phone buzzes like it’s trying to warn you about an incoming asteroid. But no, it’s just Auntie #4 sending her 478th consecutive motivational GIF — a glittering rose with “Life is Beautiful” slapped across it in Comic Sans.

Welcome to the existential purgatory of WhatsApp family groups.

The Birthplace of Dread: How It All Begins

It usually starts innocently. A cousin creates a “Family Forever ” group to plan a wedding planning or Diwali potluck coordination. It serves its purpose briefly. Then the event ends. But the group doesn’t.

No, it evolves. Like fungus.

Before you know it, there are 23 members:

•  8 who never talk
•  5 who only send forwards
• 1 who mistakes the group for their personal diary
• And you, questioning your existence while scrolling through sunrise montages 

The Routine of Rituals

Morning Mayhem

You wake up to a barrage of “Good morning” messages. Not one, not two—but dozens. They are all eerily similar:

• A sunrise over a lake.

• A flower blooming in slow motion.

• A baby laughing while the Gayatri Mantra plays in the background.

Sometimes it’s philosophical:

“Each morning we are born again. What we do today is what matters most.” – Buddha

It’s barely 7 a.m., and you already feel like you've lived through three lifetime and 12 spiritual awakenings.

The Forwards That Time Forgot

Let’s take a moment to honor the warriors who believe any information is worth sharing, as long as it’s old, inaccurate, or completely irrelevant.

• “Drink hot water with lemon to cure everything from acne to heartbreak”

• “Forward this to 11 people and your luck will change by 6 p.m. 

• “NASA confirms: Earth will go completely dark for 6 days in November. Be prepared”

You try to debunk them. You post a link from WHO . But your Uncle replies with:

“Beta, you have become too western. Learn to trust Ayurveda.”

The irony is so thick you could spread it on toast. i question my career, my life and even my vaccine shots.

The Silent Spectators 

There are always a few who never participate. Ever.

You wonder:

Are they okay? Do they silently scream every time they see the group light up?

Are they still in the group voluntarily? Or is this their personal form of punishment?

They don’t respond, don’t leave, don’t react. They’ve reached Zen. Or maybe they’ve just muted the group forever, they have achieved Digital Nirvana. You envy them and aspire to their level of inner peace.

Passive-Aggressive Pandemonium

No family gathering is complete without light drama, and WhatsApp groups are no exception.

• Auntie #2: “Some people don’t even acknowledge the good morning. Basic manners are gone.”

• Cousin #7: leaves the group

• Uncle #1: “Let’s not fight. Life is short. Here’s a video of a cat singing Om Jai Jagdish Hare.”

The digital silence afterward is louder than any screaming match.

The Exit That Can Never Happen

Here’s the cruel joke: You can check out anytime you like, but you can never really leave.

Because the day you exit the group, three things happen:

1. You’re added back within minutes.

2. You get three calls asking if everything is okay at home.

3. You’re now the family rebel who “thinks they’re too good for us.”

So instead, you suffer. Quietly. Stewing in unread messages and emotional GIFs.

Why We Stay

Despite it all—the cringey quotes, the blurry screenshots, the unsolicited health advice—something odd keeps us tethered.

It’s not just guilt. It’s love wrapped in digital dysfunction. A bizarre blend of tradition, obligation, and that deeply human need to stay connected, even if it’s through a forwarded picture of Lord Ganesha dancing on a lotus.

You might mute it. You might roll your eyes. But you’ll never truly leave.

Because at the end of the day, they’re your people. Annoying, overbearing, emoji-abusing—but yours.

If Dante had written The Divine Comedy today, one of the circles of Hell would absolutely be The WhatsApp Family Group.

Until then, just keep calm and reply with .

 Been scarred by a WhatsApp family group? Drop your funniest story in the comments—or just forward this blog to your own group and watch the fireworks. 

How to Lose Your Mind Gracefully in the Grocery Store

 

A modern survival guide for anyone who’s ever wept in aisle five

I didn’t plan to lose my mind today.

I had a list. A noble, responsible list. Bananas, milk, eggs, bread. Just four things. Simple, minimal, adulting at its finest.

And yet, thirty-seven minutes later, I found myself staring blankly at a wall of olive oils, internally debating whether “cold-pressed” or “extra virgin” would help fill the existential void forming in my chest.

Welcome to the modern grocery store — where sensory overload meets decision fatigue, and a simple errand becomes a full-blown identity crisis.

Let’s unpack how to navigate a supermarket, with style, dignity, and reusable bags.

1: The Parking Lot Panic

Nothing tests your patience like circling a grocery store parking lot at peak hours. It’s a battlefield of aggressive honking, reverse-light bluffing, and poorly executed parallel parking.

By the time you find a spot (somewhere just slightly south of the actual store), you’re already sweating and muttering something about how “people have forgotten how to drive.”

You haven’t even entered the store, and your soul has started fraying like a cheap canvas tote.

2: The Cart Catastrophe

Will your cart squeak? Will one wheel wobble, as if it has unresolved trauma from a previous life?

Yes. Always yes.

You pretend it’s fine, shoving it forward like a stubborn mule while pretending not to notice it dragging 5 degrees to the left. You’re now in a slow-motion race with an elderly man using a walker, and honestly? He’s winning.

3: The Produce Section Identity Crisis

This is where your ambition meets reality.

You came in for bananas, but suddenly you’re contemplating dragon fruit, organic celery, and something called “golden kiwi.”( I identify kiwi with green.)

You question your life choices. Should you be the kind of person who eats microgreens? Should you start juicing? Should you become vegan? Is this who you are now?

And then, a rogue avocado rolls off the display and hits the floor. You take it as a sign from the universe to calm the hell down and buy the bananas like a normal person.

4: Aisle-Induced Amnesia

What did you come in here for again?

You’re in Aisle 7 holding a jar of tahini and a box of quinoa, convinced you’re going to start meal prepping even though you’ve never meal prepped a day in your life.

Your grocery list? Forgotten.

Your budget? Shattered.

Your sanity? Teetering like that tower of cereal boxes you just knocked over trying to reach a “high-fiber” something.

You do that thing where you check your phone, as if your Notes app will save you from your spiraling choices. Instead, it opens Instagram, and you lose six minutes to reels of cats making sourdough.

5: The Existential Checkout Spiral

This is where it gets real.

The cashier is 19, radiates the energy of someone who listens to lo-fi beats and has never once paid a utility bill.

You try to seem cool and composed, but you’re sweating and your reusable bag is ripped, and you just realized you bought three types of mustard but forgot the eggs.

Also, why is your total ₹3,428 for what appears to be two bags of snacks, kombucha, and artisan cheese?

You swipe your card with the solemn resignation of someone who knows they’ll be eating cereal for dinner three nights this week.

6: The Emotional Aftermath

You exit the store, blinking against the harsh sunlight like you’ve just returned from war.

You sit in your car, stare into the middle distance, and whisper:

“What just happened?”

It was supposed to be a five-minute errand.

It turned into a full-blown spiritual journey.

You are older now. Wiser. Hungrier.

Embrace the Chaos

Losing your mind in the grocery store is not a personal failing — it’s a rite of passage. In a world of endless choices, overthinking, and societal pressure to be well and eat clean, even something as mundane as a supermarket run can feel like a crisis.

So next time you find yourself crying in front of the yogurt selection or considering if your soul needs probiotics, just remember:

You are not alone.

We’re all just trying to navigate the cereal aisle of life, one confused cart at a time.

Have you ever had a mental breakdown over pasta sauce? Tell me your grocery store meltdown stories in the comments, and if you liked this, follow for more essays on modern madness and everyday hilarity.