Quark
Soumava Banerjee 11A에 의해Ah, the grand absurdity of unsolicited moral sermons on WhatsApp! A phenomenon so ubiquitous, so persistently exasperating, that it rivals the very concept of futility itself. Picture this: You wake up, still groggy, fumbling for your phone, only to be assaulted by a wall of forwarded messages from that one well-meaning yet profoundly irritating uncle, aunt, or long-lost acquaintance who has seemingly taken up the noble yet entirely unsolicited duty of being humanity’s moral custodian.
There it is—a block of text so dense, so riddled with misplaced wisdom, that it appears less like a genuine life lesson and more like an AI-generated amalgamation of stale philosophy, rehashed from WhatsApp University. “Respect your elders, for they are the roots of our existence,” it proclaims, as if your entire moral compass was in dire need of recalibration at 6:45 AM. And, of course, it is invariably accompanied by a stock image of folded hands, a blurry sunset, or an uncredited quote falsely attributed to Abdul Kalam or Einstein—because, naturally, great minds spent their lives pondering over recycled WhatsApp forwards.
But wait—there’s more! Just when you think you can escape, you scroll down to find an aggressive, almost apocalyptic warning: “Forward this to 10 people, or misfortune will befall you!” Ah yes, the hallmark of true wisdom—blackmail wrapped in virtue! Because, clearly, karma now operates via WhatsApp’s forward button, punishing those who dare to defy the sacred chain message.
And let’s not forget the unsolicited life advice from self-proclaimed sages who, in their infinite wisdom, deem it their duty to enlighten you on topics ranging from the “true meaning of happiness” to “the dangers of Western influence.” As if a poorly formatted message, sprinkled with excessive emojis and random font changes, will single-handedly elevate your existence to a higher plane of enlightenment.
Yet, the greatest irony lies in the sheer detachment of these lessons from the people who send them. The very same individuals who flood your inbox with homilies on humility and kindness are the ones who will, without hesitation, cut the queue at a ticket counter or berate a waiter for a minor mistake. Their WhatsApp sermons preach the virtues of simplicity, even as they flaunt their latest gold-laden spectacle of conspicuous consumption.
Thus, the cycle continues, an endless stream of morality shoved down our throats, unsolicited and unwelcome, all while WhatsApp remains the digital temple where outdated, dubious, and often laughably hypocritical wisdom goes to be recycled ad infinitum. Perhaps, one day, the flood will recede, reason will prevail, and WhatsApp will cease to be the unsolicited university of outdated ethics—but until then, we suffer, forever entangled in the web of forwarded absurdity.
