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By:

Prithvi Asthana

20 August 2025 at 5:20:30 pm

The Cost of Constant Consumption

As we curate our content, the deeper question is whether content is quietly curating us. Few can manage a 90-hour workweek, but most would easily go beyond a 90-hour social media week. With our growing appetite for social media and instant commerce, the real question is no longer just how we consume, but how much. In an age where every swipe, click and scroll is engineered to hold attention, overconsumption is becoming less a habit and more a way of life. What once felt private is now...

The Cost of Constant Consumption

As we curate our content, the deeper question is whether content is quietly curating us. Few can manage a 90-hour workweek, but most would easily go beyond a 90-hour social media week. With our growing appetite for social media and instant commerce, the real question is no longer just how we consume, but how much. In an age where every swipe, click and scroll is engineered to hold attention, overconsumption is becoming less a habit and more a way of life. What once felt private is now constantly translated into data, tracked, analysed and fed back to us as personalised content. Our chat topics increasingly shape what appears on our feeds, drawing us deeper into social media and blurring the line between private thought and public consumption. Shopping apps track our preferences and know exactly what to show us, when to show it, and how to keep us engaged. As we curate our content, is content curating us too? In India, this influence is amplified by scale: the country has over 820 million internet users, more than half from rural India. And because creating content now requires little more than a smartphone, production has exploded, feeding an endless supply of content to consume. We are no longer just seeking information online; we are constantly being served information we never asked for. The Attention Trap Urban youth face intense pressure to keep pace with the latest memes and trends, consuming more content in pursuit of social validation. For many, especially the young, staying updated has become a form of cultural currency — a way to belong, be seen and stay relevant. Across the world, users spend an average of more than two hours a day on social media, while reels lasting just 30 to 90 seconds are steadily reshaping attention spans. What begins as constant engagement online does not stay there. With everything at our fingertips, people are becoming less tolerant of delay, boredom and inconvenience. The speed of the internet is not just shrinking our attention spans — it is eroding our patience in everyday life. Convenience Culture Quick commerce platforms have turned this impatience into a business model. Ten-minute deliveries, constant offers and endless discounts encourage impulsive buying, from groceries to stationery, while quietly raising our expectations for speed. Convenience now drives not just what we buy but how we behave — leaving users less tolerant of delays and delivery workers under relentless pressure. A 2018 Pew Research Centre survey of 743 teens found that 31% lost focus in class while checking their phones. Increased internet use also disrupts sleep, as young adults scroll through reels late into the night, leaving many sleep-deprived. The endless scroll is designed to make stopping difficult, and reduced sleep worsens mood, irritability and concentration. Late Gen Z and Gen Alpha differ sharply from earlier generations. Raised on algorithms and personalised feeds, their worldview is shifting, while teachers increasingly struggle with shrinking attention spans and worsening classroom behaviour. Rising loneliness and excessive screen time have also blurred the line between online and offline life. As screen time rises, the warmth of community and unstructured human interaction is giving way to more mediated and transactional forms of connection. Algorithms & Intimacy Artificial intelligence has rapidly integrated into our routines, making tasks easier and more convenient. Large language models are trained on human interactions, and the more we use them, the more they adapt to our habits, perceptions and preferences — deepening their influence on our lives. As with social media, what feels intuitive or personalised is often the result of systems learning us faster than we realise. The more seamless these systems become, the easier it is to mistake convenience for connection and prediction for understanding. In the 21st century, data has become central to our existence. Social media and AI exploit our psychology, trapping attention in a cycle of constant content exchange. Sharing even small details updates our feeds almost instantly, sometimes making algorithms seem to understand us better than the people around us. Users remain deeply engaged in this digital world, often believing their content is curated just for them. In reality, companies profit from these interactions, growing richer while shaping consumer behaviour. What feels personal is, at scale, a business model designed to monetise attention. As digitisation rewires our brains and lifestyles, living offline has become increasingly difficult. New technologies promise convenience, but they are also reshaping how we consume content and experience the world. As we consume technology, the unsettling truth is that we may also be consuming ourselves.

Power Boundaries

Few things unsettle a government more than a constitutional grey zone exposed in full public view. That ambiguity was recently dragged onto the floor of Maharashtra’s Legislative Council and briskly tidied up by Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis. His intervention, delivered amid a rancorous debate, did more than settle an immediate dispute. It reaffirmed a basic, if often blurred, principle that legislatures may question and even censure, but they do not govern.


At the heart of the row lay a seemingly procedural question: can presiding officers of the legislature order the suspension of senior bureaucrats? The immediate trigger was the fate of Satara’s Superintendent of Police, Tushar Doshi. Acting on complaints over alleged conduct during a local body election, Deputy Chairperson Dr. Neelam Gorhe directed his suspension. In an unusual twist, the Council’s Chairperson, Ram Shinde, appeared to hold back the order, creating a spectacle of competing authorities within the same chamber.


The confusion was political. Opposition leaders, including Anil Parab and Shashikant Shinde, pressed the government to clarify whether such directives carried binding force. If presiding officers could directly discipline officials, it would create a powerful new lever for legislative oversight and, potentially, political theatre.


However, Fadnavis’s reply was unequivocal. India’s Constitution, he noted, draws clear lines between the legislature, the executive and the judiciary. The power to administer - to hire, fire, suspend and discipline - rested squarely with the cabinet, he reminded. Presiding officers may issue directions, but these are not self-executing decrees. The government may consider them, even respect them, but it is under no legal compulsion to obey without scrutiny.


Fadnavis’ clarification of this distinction preserves the chain of accountability. Civil servants answer to the executive, which in turn answers to the legislature. To allow presiding officers to bypass the executive would collapse that hierarchy, creating a muddled system in which authority is exercised without responsibility. Legislative indignation, however justified, cannot substitute for administrative due process.


Such theatrics underscore a deeper unease. In an era of heightened partisanship, legislatures are increasingly tempted to extend their reach beyond scrutiny into execution. The allure is obvious as direct action offers immediate political dividends. The costs, however, are institutional.


By refusing to endorse blind compliance with the Chair’s directives, Fadnavis has signalled that his government will not cede executive ground, even under legislative pressure.


Fadnavis’s intervention is less about one police officer than about restoring equilibrium and a measure of constitutional clarity. By insisting that the cabinet alone wields executive authority, he has drawn a line that others may be tempted to cross again. Whether it holds will depend not on constitutional text but on political restraint, an even rarer commodity.


For the moment, Maharashtra has been reminded that power, in a democracy, is not merely about who speaks the loudest in the chamber. It is about who is ultimately responsible for acting and being held to account. 


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