<div><em>Early days of the Web were all about discovery and learning. When did it transform into an ensnaring shopping monster? </em><em><strong>Mala Bhargava</strong> takes a look</em></div><div> </div><div>Those who were-n’t around for the birth of the Web and everything online will have missed it. Building up, the Internet became a space of discovery, useful information and new opportunities. Very young people today will never have known the wonder of it all. </div><div>When I look at the Internet now, I see a massive trap, a shopping monster with its jaws around your wallet. And that, coming from me, a confirmed shopaholic, says a lot. Think of how the pressure to buy is put on any user of the Internet or services that it makes possible. Here’s how it goes:</div><div> </div><div>I wake to an alarm. But that’s on days when I’m lucky. Take today. Before my alarm sounded, a soft notification sound woke up me. Thinking it could be someone from the family, I picked up my phone only to find myself staring bleary-eyed at a message from some entity I would like to throttle. “Have a terrific Tuesday! Get Rs 500 for purchases above Rs 1500. Hurry!” I mumble to the anonymous thing to take Rs 500 to shut up forever and wonder how exactly these DND things work and why is it that we have to make a special request not to be disturbed from companies that have no right to disturb us in the first place — whose life is it anyway?</div><div> </div><div>I try to go back to sleep but my sheer annoyance won’t let me and I decide to check if I have any work messages from overenthusiastic colleagues already. No I don’t, but I do have lots of good morning messages from the banks whose hapless customer I happen to be. Citibank reminds me about my reward points which I must shop to get, HDFC offers its loans and American Express, whose Gold card I just terminated, urges me to get a Gold card. Do Gmail’s filters work at all?</div><div> </div><div>I move on, in utter disgust, and decide to catch up on the news, extremely important for a journalist, after all. I immediately bump into some breaking news — Kejriwal and the Delhi Police are fighting over being called names. Same names we’ve always called them ever since anyone can remember. But it’s entertaining, so I click in to look.</div><div> </div><div>Before I do any such thing, an ad comes flying at me telling me it’s the best time to buy property in Gurgaon. I dump the news and reach for my tea. May as well start the day with some deep thinking. But wait. Dominos has other ideas. It seems I really must get a pizza right away. Oh, and Big Basket also reminds me that I should use my points to shop for more or lose them. I jump out of bed and try to leave the room. Just then, a phone call pulls me back. Office? No, Airtel. Do I want a postpaid connection? For heaven’s sake, we’re talking on Airtel’s postpaid connection! I am on the point of abuse when the startled dude hangs up.</div><div> </div><div>So let’s move on. It’s going to be time to work soon so I figure I should grab the time to look for a book I’ve been meaning to locate. My still sleepy fingers slip on the keypad and all I type is “rug”. Google goes crazy. It should be telling me what a rug is, but all in good time. First, do I want to shop for a rug on Google? Do I want one from FabFurnish? How about from Home Stop? The entire page of results is just buying suggestions because Google thinks that’s personalising it for me.</div><div> </div><div>I haven’t even gotten into the day yet, but the fact that it’s going to be filled with buying buttons, recommendations, promoted messages, push notifications from PayTM and Mobiqwik and Ola and Uber and Nature’s Basket and Vero Moda, doesn’t escape me for a moment. It’s not even 9 a.m., I’m already in the control of the online buying monster. I can leave, but I can never hide.</div><div> </div><div>(This story was published in BW | Businessworld Issue Dated 24-08-2015)</div>
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