On a cold, rainy morning last week in London, I walked past a trio of older teenagers. The guy in the middle had said something and the Asian kid leaned over to ask, “What is consent?” It felt like the kind of scene, if tweeted by someone like me, would fetch many replies suggesting that I had made it up. “Oh, consent,” the guy said, “it’s like when you like somebody, you know, you should take their permission before proceeding.”

“Ah, of course, consent!” the Asian kid remarked. “So how do you communicate consent here? Do you ask in a direct sentence?” I walked away to the sound of the other two establishing a scenario with an example. It was fresher’s week in college campuses across the city, and everywhere you turned you encountered young people, shivering in anticipation at the beginning of the big story of their lives. No better time to think about consent, to check with your new friends, to verify that your understanding of the culture is correct.

Often, in writing this column, I have wondered about what really the zeitgeist of Modern Times is? Often it feels like nothing has changed, that we are grappling with the same questions decade after decade – of wars and brutality, of women’s safety, the perils of a planet that is rapidly depleting of flora and fauna. But sometimes it feels like even if the wheels are slow, they are turning. That if a white, a brown and an Asian student, all of whom likely met earlier that week, were discussing consent, it has to be a sign of progress, that at least in some pockets, kids are being raised unafraid to ask what they are not certain about.

Modern Times.

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A few weeks before this, I walked into my office building and encountered a woman who was wearing an ivory and black dress that she had accessorised to such perfection that it jumped out even to my fashion agnostic eye. “I love how well you’ve put this together,” I told her. She was startled at first to hear a stranger speak, and then her face dissolved into a smile. “Thank you,” she said and walked on, and at the end of the corridor when we had to go our separate ways, she turned to me and said, “I have an important presentation today and your compliment is the confidence boost I needed.”

The one thing I don’t hold back anymore is in complimenting strange women. Partly, it is because I am now old enough to not care about coming across as a “cool” person, but mostly it is because the solidarity of the sisterhood is the best thing in our lives now. Never before have I encountered so many women actively engaged in the enterprise of lifting each other up. Don’t believe me? Check out the Instagram accounts of young women, and you won’t miss the trail of comments from her friends, and some strangers, calling her a queen.

For days, I thought about the way the woman’s face changed in the time her brain heard and interpreted my words. How little it took to make someone feel supported. Earlier this week, I was in the elevator of the same building. There were about six or seven people — men and women — and a young girl stepped up to me and said, “May I?” Before I knew it, she reached out to tuck the tag of my shirt into the collar.

Modern Times

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The viral news story the day I arrived back home in Delhi was that S.P. Oswal, the chairman and managing director of Vardhman Industries, fell victim to a scam in which he was placed under “digital arrest” (no such thing) and made to transfer ₹7 crore into various accounts. In the course of this arrest, he was even shown a courtroom in which the chief justice of India, D.Y. Chandrachud (fake), heard his case and passed an order. The rest of the cast was mostly officers from the Enforcement Directorate, dressed in civilian clothes, with ID cards dangling from their necks.

I must say I read this story with a bit of envy and regret. I had never engaged in these scam calls; as soon as the recorded message starts about my Fedex consignment or my account in a bank I don’t have one in, I immediately disconnect and block the number. I know several people who have fallen victim to these scams, intelligent and discerning people, who emerge from the fugue of their encounter in shame. In the retelling of events, they know how ridiculous it sounds, but the sophistication of these scams is such that people don’t realise the complex psy-ops they are part of until it is too late. So, I have been wary of engaging with these callers, even when I am certain it is a scam. But the idea that there was so much theatre playing out in these calls is too tempting. I’d love to see the fake CJI banging his fake gavel in his fake court.

So the next time my phone rang and it asked me press 9 to prevent the immediate cancellation of my phone number by TRAI, I took a deep breath and did as I was told. But, alas, the extension rang and rang and nobody answered. A recorded voice came back and apologised for the delay, assured me my call was important and asked me to hold on. I did. But after six rounds of this, and a 10-minute wait, I knew there was no fake courtroom destined for me that day. It’s a tough life when even the scamsters put you on hold because they have far more wealthy people to deal with first.

Modern Times

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It felt fitting to talk about beginnings because this is the last edition of Modern Times. Thank you for reading and responding. It’s been an honour.

The writer is the author of Independence Day: A People’s History.