How much news do we really need to consume?

When the first wave of Covid hit, my dreams were full of bats, pangolins, and wet markets, of civets in cages stacked one on top of the other. In these nightmares, drenched in sanitiser, facemasks marched in unison, while surgical gloves dropped from the sky like diamonds.

These days, my head is a mixed fruit jam of disparate phrases of war, which I don't comprehend fully: 'boots on the ground', a map of West Asia, the Strait of Hormuz, FBI firing Iran experts, Brent crude, emergency oil reserves, proxies, supreme leader, Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, Kurd fighters, 'Whose war is it, anyway?' and so on.

We consume more news than ever before. Unlike the forms of art we consume for leisure, news is considered an 'essential' commodity. Even 'pure' artistic types, who pretend to keep an arm's distance from world events, can't help being drawn into the 24/7 vortex. Part of the reason is Trump--dangerous, unpredictable and entertaining, who draws us into his version of reality TV, the real thing.


How much news do we really need to consume? I've been watching CBS, ABC, Al Jazeera, and since one is at it, checking in on Fox and Newsmax. Sometimes, while one has a channel switched on to live streaming, one starts reading about the war on one's phone, then checking wild theories floating on X. And then moving on to Instagram for videos from Tehran. Eventually, I end up watching late night American shows.

Back in the day, I'd subscribe to one newspaper, which I'd read from back to front. As for world politics, the lead edit and a single page for international news sufficed. The news cycle was always endless. But now our access to it is also endless.

When one turns away from political news of the moment, drained and exhausted, one ends up watching or listening to news about one's interests: a cricket match podcast, news from the writing world, music news... Or worse still, one ends up watching news from decades ago. The other day I ended up watching reels on BBC Archives.

These days, I've consumed everything about the new Gorillaz album, which draws on Hinduism's ideas of mortality. I know the story of how the band was attracted to Hindu philosophy. But I haven't heard the album, only clips of songs. Why? Because I was busy watching the promo reels and news about Chaar Diwari's new album, Parvana.

Diwari a.k.a. Garv Taneja is a breakout indie rapper and singer from Delhi, utterly and absolutely brilliant. I know everything about the making of Parvana, and, from a podcast, what Diwari eats at night. But, again, I haven't heard the album. Why? Because I was reading everything about my favourite band, Pulp. They just performed in New Zealand. Erm, but I haven't yet finished listening to their new album - because the war happened.

And before that Maduro happened. And before that Mamdani. In the 1990s, we knew an album like the back of our hands but often knew very little about the band itself. It took us ages to find out about the circumstances surrounding Kurt Cobain's death. Now it's the other way around.

Which is why I love my kirana store guy, who is totally disconnected from news that doesn't affect him directly. Our talking point is the price of cigarettes. They have been in a state of jungle raj flux for a couple of months. The joke about my brand is: 'Abki baar chaar sau paar.'At least the government has legalised cannabis leaf extract under Ayush. Friends swear that a drop under the tongue takes the edge off the news.

Meanwhile, my resolution for the week is to listen to the new Blur, sorry Gorillaz, album. My head is such a blur. Such are the Demon Days we live in.