The Accidental Influencer

It was early morning. Not my preferred time to fly, and I was pacing the airport hall, waiting aimlessly for the boarding call for my flight back to Namma Bengaluru. As I approached the gate, looking for any sign of activity, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

A man, perhaps in his mid-to-late 30s, was grinning broadly. "You look familiar to me," he said. "Like I know you so well."

I searched my memory. Nothing. "I'm sorry," I replied, scratching my head. "I don't seem to recall."

"It's fine," he insisted. "Aren't you [xxxx]? I follow you on Instagram!"

The name and handle he used at first didn't register. "Would you mind repeating that?"

"It's okay," he conceded. "Maybe I confused you with someone—[xxxx]—who I follow on Instagram”, and went on to repeat the name and handle of the person he follows. 

We both exchanged polite reassurances. Then he volunteered more information: "These days, everyone is flaunting their grey hair and beard proudly. I was influenced by him to stop coloring my hair."

"That's nice," I responded.

He continued, observing me critically. "It's uncanny how much you look like him. Maybe it's just that every middle-aged man is growing one now."

I gave a knowing, perhaps 'sage,' nod. I bit back the urge to tell him three things:

 * My grey hair hasn't seen dye in over fifteen years.

 * My grey beard is equally venerable.

 * I was indeed the 'xxxx' he followed on Instagram.

Despite the exhilarating, albeit confusing, compliment of being recognized and credited as an influencer (even by just one person), I immediately felt a profound discomfort. I was not up to being fawned over.

We are all creatures who crave attention and the spotlight, yet it's only when we are near that light that we realize how difficult it is to live under its continuous glare. In that moment, a wave of genuine empathy washed over me for everyone in public life—especially film and sports personalities—who are incessantly mobbed, yet panned and dragged through the mud the moment they seek privacy.

*****

I proceeded to board my flight, and soon forgot about this, as I landed and continued with my office chores. Several days later, I was  cleaning up my messages on Instagram, and one caught my attention. 

“I know it was you who I ran into at the airport. You didn’t have to display so much of airs and deny.  I am unfollowing you”.