Raju Korti
There was a time when Facebook
was a cheerful adda for long-lost friends, old classmates, ex-colleagues, and
that uncle who sends ‘Good Morning’ messages before sunrise. You could share
photos, poke fun, disagree, even argue; and yet remain friends. The unwritten
rule was simple: friendship meant affection, not algorithmic hierarchy.
But now, as I scroll through my feed, I realise that Facebook has been quietly colonised by a new tribe: the Digital Creators. These self-styled geniuses are convinced that everyone else exists only to “follow” them. Their profiles proudly declare, “1.8K followers, 123 following”. As if the fewer they follow, the more divine their existence.
My notifications keep telling me: “So-and-so has highlighted a post for you.” Really? Highlighted? As if it is some royal proclamation. And when I open the post, I find that I have been automatically demoted from friend to follower. In other words, a humble spectator whose sacred duty is to clap, like, and share.
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| (Pic representational) |
Now, I am told that a digital creator is someone who “produces and distributes original, engaging, and valuable content.” Beautiful words, but quite meaningless when you look around. What exactly are they creating? Ninety percent of what passes for “original content” today is a recycled meme, a borrowed quote, or a dance reel set to someone else’s song. If this is creativity, then the world’s WhatsApp groups are full of creative geniuses.
And please, don’t tell me there was no creativity before the digital age. By that logic, the likes of Shakespeare, Tagore, R.K. Laxman and Sahir – to name a few -- must have been mere amateurs because they never monetized their content through reels. What unmitigated nonsense!
What irritates me even more is how these digital creators hardly ever acknowledge others’ posts. They live in a world of one-way admiration. You comment on their post, and silence follows. The royal silence of someone too elevated to notice the commoners. Yet their “followers” dutifully shower likes and emojis as though attending a daily darshan.
To me, friendship is about equality. I don’t want to lead, and I certainly don’t want to follow. I want to connect. Genuinely, without hashtags or hierarchies.
If this obsession with followers continues, perhaps Mr. Zuckerberg should consider rebranding Facebook altogether. Maybe call it Followbook or Feudalbook. At least then we’ll know where we stand, kneeling at the feet of “digital creators,” proudly part of an utterly stupid algorithm.
Some might take offence to this post. That’s fine. After all, Facebook still asks me, “What’s on your mind?” I only hope it doesn’t soon change that to, “What’s on your leader’s mind?”

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