I won’t lie to you. For a few seconds, endorphins and adrenaline shook and stirred in my head as if my brain had glugged down a microscopic glass of martini. It was a mix of elation and fist-clenching happiness – the very emotion I was cruelly denied the night before when Arsenal lost to PSG in the Champions League semifinal. But being born of two moderately rational baby boomers, I sought confirmation of Munir’s ‘news’ from more trusted sources.
‘Internet personality’ Bhupendra Chaubey’s X post (since deleted) stated, ‘This is like Massive. Pakistani Army Chief General Asim Munir arrested, coup takes place under General Shamshad Mirza. Never ever in the history of India and Pakistan has such a move happened so quickly in the event of an armed conflict. Munir accused of running personal agenda.’ After a few more ‘confirmations’ from literally ‘like’-minded people, however, I was credibly informed that Munir was still very much king of Pindi. Sigh.
By Friday morning – with me still bearing faint hopes that the ‘original’ Munir news was now confirmed truth – I learnt about Pakistan’s Supreme Court delivering a landmark ruling that endorsed trials of civilians in military courts, thereby empowering the army chief even more. Only if I had ignored every bit of information after Dekho Dekho. I would have been happier – the only thing that we really seek out in our ho-hum, ‘Let’s not de-escalate (BUT ACTUALLY LET’S!)’ lives, not-always-pleasant facts be left to libtard nosepickers.
There’s ‘fog of war’ – uncertainty and lack of clear information faced by military personnel during combat operations, making it difficult for those who need to make decisions, make sound decisions. And then there’s ‘smog of war‘ – wish fulfilments, hyper-emotional fantasies, hankerings – vented and circulated by the brave aam janta armed with patriotic intent and ‘send’ buttons, until these wishes take on the viscous, almost solid, texture of genuine ‘information’. Circulation of this smog satisfies the agitated soul, makes its circulators feel part of something bigger and more precious than ourselves, and feeds an appetite fed on a diet of quick commerce’s instant gratification and market research surveys’ ‘Give them what they want’ prasad and bhog. It also makes us insta experts. Suddenly, I found myself explaining to someone about the image of a vertical tail of an Indian Rafale EH (single seat) BS001 twin-engine, canard delta-winged fighter jet, reportedly shot down by Pakistan and found in Bathinda. You see, I had mugged up these tall-tale signs as confirmed by an ‘unnamed high-ranking French intelligence official’ to CNN.
With social media, you don’t even need Agent Vinods to scatter propaganda leaflets from planes, or ensure that the press don’t let people confuse family planning programs for forced vasectomy camps. Now, every ‘breaking news,’ every ‘snapping post’, every ‘smashing video’ has its smartphone paratroopers in us. Incremental hope and elation – and a subtle display of your up-to-date knowledge on all things wargames and military strategy – are a ‘send’ and ‘share’ away.
Being privy to this smogfest is exciting, giving us a rush no Call of Duty or Warcraft can give. Those incremental hits of happiness are all we look forward to forward, as we play Manekshaw-Manekshaw from our threat-bare sofas and beds. Even as there’s a pause in our run-gun chase.
