A few days back, a viral AI-generated video depicting life in the 90’s caught my attention. It featured a family gathered around a TV, watching Ramayan, a mother lovingly serving a simple home-cooked meal, a grandmother giving her grandchild an oil massage, children playing marbles and hopscotch outdoors, and reading comics under a ceiling fan while the radio hums in the background. Though it was deliberately manufactured nostalgia, it resonated with millions because it portrayed what many of us secretly crave: a genuine human connection in an increasingly disconnected world.
We drown in limitless choices every single day. Multiple OTT platforms compete for our time. Shopping apps deliver everything from groceries to gadgets in less than 10 minutes. A single app gives us hundreds of potential romantic partners. But paradoxically, we are less satisfied. With abundance comes anxiety, decision fatigue, and eventually, discontent. This ‘paradox of choice’ has profound implications for our mental wellbeing. Global Change Data Lab reports staggering statistics: one in three women and one in five men will experience major depression in their lifetime. While excessive choice is not the sole culprit, it contributes significantly to our collective malaise.
Decision fatigue is real. After navigating a maze of options, we’re often left overwhelmed, uncertain, and plagued by regret. ‘Could I have chosen better?’ we wonder. This is especially true for ‘Maximisers’, the people who exhaustively consider all options. In contrast, the ‘Satisficers’ settle for ‘good enough’. Nowhere is this more evident than in modern dating culture. My friends in their 20s feel frustrated by the very apps designed to connect them. With endless scrolling options, many fall into a ‘rejection mindset.’ They are unable to commit, always wondering if someone better is just a swipe away.
Our digital lives further fragment our attention spans. I experienced this personally. A few years ago, I realised my reading had drastically reduced. The culprit? My phone. I began leaving it downstairs while I read upstairs in a hammock. The simple act of disconnecting gave me back something precious: focus.
Does this mean we should shun technology and unrealistically yearn for a romanticised past? Certainly not. However, we must deliberately and consciously curate our lives. We must declutter not just our homes but our minds. Make intentional choices rather than being overwhelmed by options. Turn off notifications. Designate phone-free zones. Unsubscribe from services we barely use. Choose quality over quantity in possessions, relationships, and experiences.
There’s profound wisdom in the adage ‘Less is More’. In a world obsessed with more, choosing less is not only an act of rebellion, but also a way back to clarity, to joy, to meaning. That nostalgic video wasn’t just a look back. It was a quiet reminder of what truly matters. The real richness lies not in the multitude of things we consume but the few we truly cherish.