15th Blogversary: A Tale of Vertigo, AI, and Virtual Eviction

Fifteen years! That’s roughly the amount of time it takes for a particularly stubborn houseplant to finally give up the ghost, or for a social media trend to cycle through three ironic revivals. And here we are, my digital scribbles and I, somehow clinging to life like a limpet on a rapidly eroding digital reef. Happy 15th blogiversary to… well, to this. Happy anniversary, little digital diary of existential grumbles and occasional bursts of questionable wit. Fifteen years of manasmukul.com stubbornly refusing to become a 404 error.

They say the first fifteen years are the hardest. I’d argue the hardest part has been the consistent, dedicated battle against my own delightful inconsistency. It’s a testament to my dedication to the art of procrastination, a skill I’ve honed over these past decade and a half to a razor-sharp edge. My muse, it seems, operates on a schedule only it understands, often coinciding with moments when I absolutely should be doing something else, like, you know, earning a living. Yet, here we are, still wobbling on this digital tightrope, a testament to something—perhaps just sheer, dumb luck.

Speaking of wobbling, there’s this pervasive hum in the digital ether – the rise of our AI overlords. They’re here, quietly and efficiently penning prose with the synthetic soul of a thousand scraped articles. They are, I’m told, snatching up “writing jobs” faster than a toddler grabs for a dropped lollipop. One can’t help but feel a tad… obsolete? Like a beautifully handcrafted quill in the age of laser printers. But fear not, dear readers (all three of you!), this isn’t a tearful farewell post. Despite the looming shadow of sentient algorithms, I’m not planning to quit the world just yet. I know, I know, some of you might be drafting those concerned DMs already, and to you I say: relax, the melodrama will have to wait for a more opportune moment.

But here’s the punchline, the darkly comedic twist in the silicon saga: for all their data-driven brilliance, these algorithmic authors are still bound by the very rules and algorithms that birthed them. Their imaginations, vast as they may seem, are still a logical extension of the data they’ve consumed. They can mimic, they can synthesize, but can they truly conjure the illogical leap, the absurd observation that makes you snort-laugh into your morning coffee? I sincerely hope we haven’t reached the point where even our absurdities are predictable.

As the mighty Shah Rukh Khan, a true survivor in his own right, recently roared, “Zinda hu!” I am alive. This blog, in its own small, slightly dusty corner of the internet, is also still kicking. Though, the digital landlord is threatening eviction, it seems. My hosting provider, in a move that smacks of cosmic irony, is packing its virtual bags and leaving India. So, the very foundation upon which these digital ramblings reside is facing an eviction notice. It’s poetic, in a grim sort of way, isn’t it?

This brings me to last year, which had its own brand of glorious absurdity that rather effectively derailed my blogging train. Some of my more abstract thoughts and poetic ramblings found refuge on the fleeting landscape of Instagram, a world of visual snippets for our shrinking attention spans. But the real showstopper was an unwelcome guest: an unusual and troublesome form of vertigo. Yes, the world decided to literally spin without my permission, turning the simple act of writing into a nauseating carnival ride. It’s been a troublesome companion, this dizzying dance with the inner ear.

But the universe, in its infinite jest, seems to believe in a strange sort of equilibrium. The shortcomings in writing were, quite literally, compensated by travelling. The world may have spun unpleasantly under my feet, but I decided to spin right back across the globe. The act of contemplation simply changed its medium from a keyboard to a passport. And in this dizzying state, I managed to set foot in my 29th country, a milestone that felt both triumphant and deeply ironic. The creative impulse, denied one outlet, simply forced its way out through another.

We exist in this bizarre echo chamber of likes and shares, this relentless pursuit of fleeting digital affirmation. It makes one wonder about the unwavering dedication of the Kafkas and Orwells of yesteryear. What fueled their dark visions, their relentless chronicling of societal anxieties, when the very notion of instant feedback was light years away? It certainly wasn’t the promise of a viral tweet. It was something deeper, something perhaps born of a solitary contemplation of the human condition.

And then there’s the stark, cold reminder of life’s brutal unpredictability. Just a couple of days ago, the world lost someone (someone I knew), a mere 25 years young, to a sudden heart attack. It’s a gut punch, a stark reminder of the fragility of existence. It makes the potential demise of a humble blog seem utterly insignificant, and yet, it also throws the act of creation, however small, into sharper relief. We scribble, we paint, we code, we bake – we do these things in the face of an uncertain tomorrow.

So, fifteen years in, facing the triple threats of algorithmic usurpation, a digital eviction notice and a disorienting inner wobble, what’s the prognosis for “The Contemplation of a Joker”? Precarious, undoubtedly. Do I feel like throwing in the towel, letting the digital curtains close on this long-running, low-budget show? The thought has, admittedly, crossed my mind, especially with the looming hosting apocalypse. Maybe this is the natural conclusion, a fifteen-year run ending not with a bang, but with a server error.

But then, where’s the darkly humorous twist in that tale? A joker doesn’t walk off stage just because it’s collapsing. He thrives on it. He finds the punchline in the precariousness of it all. Maybe the human element, that messy, irrational, occasionally brilliant spark, still has a few punchlines left to deliver.

So, take heart (and maybe a seasickness pill). Despite the AI revolution, the migrating servers, and my personal battle with gravity, “Zinda hu.” The joker might be feeling a bit off-balance, but the contemplation continues. The show’s not quite over yet. Stay tuned, or don’t. In the grand scheme of things, does it really matter? Probably not. But here we are anyway, contemplating the absurdity of it all. Happy-ish 15th.

But for now, let’s raise a virtual toast to fifteen years of unpredictable prose and hope the vertigo doesn’t kick in mid-sentence.

For all those who have been there for the last 15 years

For all those who might have just stumbled upon this

For all those who still show up at the Joker’s shows

And 

For all those who want the show to go on…

It’s not a goodbye

But it is a Good Bye.

Manas ‘Sameer’ Mukul

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A look into the past – Read how I began here