Dear Reader,
During my recent weeks in London, I kept coming across chess clubs, literary gatherings and talks that seemed to be as much social occasions as cultural ones. What struck me was how many people arrived on their own. A shared interest was reason enough to turn up and spend an evening among strangers.
Now, back in Mumbai, I see the same impulse taking on the character of the city itself. Silent-reading groups meet in neighborhood parks, creating pockets of collective quiet in a city where both space and silence are scarce. Elsewhere, bars are becoming lecture rooms for an evening, with strangers gathering to hear people speak about philosophy, neuroscience or urban life. Even a morning coffee can become an occasion to dance. In each case, you can walk in by yourself and already understand what has brought everyone together.
The pandemic may have accelerated our appetite for gathering, but it is the fact that these communities have endured that interests me. Several years on, what are we still looking for?
It made me think about something very basic: we have always needed other people, even as the ways we meet have changed. Technology has helped us overcome distance for centuries. What feels different now is that it can generate our words and images, make recommendations for us and, increasingly, act on our behalf. Much of this genuinely excites me. It also makes me wonder how much of our thinking and attention we want to hand over.
Most of these activities do not require company. People read by themselves every day. They dance in their own homes, drink coffee in solitude and play chess against computers. Philosophy, too, can be pursued privately. Yet we continue to seek out other people with whom to do these things.
At a silent-reading group, everyone can disappear into a different book while remaining aware of the people around them. Across a chessboard, you respond to the decisions of another mind. Dancing changes when other people are beside us. Coffee, one of the most ordinary parts of a day, can become a reason to stop and talk. A lecture held in a bar turns an ordinary night out into a conversation about ideas.
These experiences ask for our attention in a way that is increasingly rare. They are difficult to hurry, and perhaps that is part of their appeal.
The return to paper books, wired headphones and simpler phones may belong to the same impulse. So might the decision to turn a screen grey. These choices simply make it easier to remain with one thing for a little longer.
None of this is an argument for turning away from technology. The Moment is a digital publication, created to carry ideas between India and the world, and technology allows us to encounter lives and perspectives we might never otherwise know. For me, the question isn’t whether to use it. It’s what I want it to do for me, and what I’d still rather do myself.
The way we meet will keep changing; it always has. But however much the world changes, we continue to find our way to one another.
Until next time,
Priyam Sharma
Founder & Editorial Director
The Moment
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