An Invisible Audience

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Swami told me and Jigneshbhai last week over coffee that he had told his trainer Sam that he was going to run a 10k.

“What did he say?” Jigneshbhai enquired.

Not that he was overly enthusiastic about running a 10k, but he was keen to know what happened. So was I, but I saw that Swami’s facial expression had become a bit subdued.

“He didn’t even acknowledge it. He just turned a blind eye. In fact, he just asked me what my workout plan for the day was,” Swami complained.

“Oh! Maybe for him, running a 10k might be a regular thing. He might check later,” Jigneshbhai consoled Swami.

“Yeah but he should have encouraged my plan at least as my trainer,” Swami’s complaint persisted.

I sympathized with Swami’s predicament. One does expect an encouraging response. But Swami had more complaints about Sam.

“In fact, when I told him again about my plan today, he said ‘ok run it whenever you want but don’t tell me about it.'”

“Don’t tell me about it? That’s what he said?” Jigneshbhai asked, surprised.

“Yes, that’s what he said. Outright discouragement, isn’t it?” Swami sulked again.

“That is quite interesting,” Jigneshbhai remarked as it piqued his curiosity.

“What is interesting about it? Sam was least interested in my 10K,” Swami complained.

“Did you ask him why he did not want you to tell him about it??” Jigneshbhai enquired.

“Yes, I did,” Swami replied.

“And what did he say?” Jigneshbhai asked.

“Run it for yourself, he said. Not for me. And not just me, don’t tell anyone else too, he insisted,” Swami replied, dejected.

Jigneshbhai and I were taken aback. There was silence for a few moments as we absorbed Sam’s reaction.

“Hmm.. Sam seems like a good personal trainer,” Jigneshbhai cheekily smiled now, as if something had dawned upon him.

“Well, earlier I used to think so. Now I don’t. Why can’t he be a bit more positive?” Swami continued complaining.

Jigneshbhai was smiling in contrast to Swami’s sulk.

“Maybe he knows what he is doing,” Jigneshbhai remarked. “So, by the way, when are you running the 10k?” Jigneshbhai asked.

With a sigh of resignation, Swami said, “I cancelled the plan. What’s the point of running a 10k if my trainer isn’t interested and I cannot tell anyone?”

With a tinge of disappointment, Swami focused on his muffin.

That was fast, we thought. A plan to run a 10k made and cancelled even before the first step.

“Well, I had read about it, but now I see it,” Jigneshbhai remarked biting into his muffin.

Swami and I stopped in our step, err bite, and looked up at Jigneshbhai. He seemed to have discovered something new. His face looked like a eureka moment had dawned upon it.

“What do you see?” Swami asked.

“The invisible audience. It is real,” Jigneshbhai said, leaving us scratching our heads.

“An invisible audience?” Swami asked.

“Yes. It is all around us and most of all, it is within our heads. The one from whom we seek validation even without knowing it. We can’t name it, we can’t see it, but it is real. That’s the one,” Jigneshbhai replied.

Swami and I didn’t quite understand what Jigneshbhai was saying. Here was Swami disappointed with his trainer for discouraging his 10k plan, and Jigneshbhai was talking of invisible audiences and validations. We weren’t sure what he was getting at. Swami was the first to question Jigneshbhai, as usual.

“Validation?” Swami asked.

“Yeah, like for the 10K from Sam and others. We seek validation on everything all the time, isn’t it?” Jigneshbhai said. Swami and I looked at each other, perhaps to validate that we were on the same page. We felt happy to realise that we were both equally confused.

“Hmm..,” Swami pondered over it. “All the time?” he asked.

“Yes. Like think about this. What if we go somewhere we dreamt of but don’t take any photos?” Jigneshbhai asked.

“Don’t take any photos? Then what’s the point?” Swami said.

“Exactly. Think of one more thing. What if we pursue something important but don’t share it with anyone when we get it?” Jigneshbhai continued.

“Hmm.. That would take something. I can’t keep my mouth shut like that,” Swami said, scratching his chin.

“Absolutely. Ok, and one more example. What if we buy something valuable but don’t tell anyone about it?” Jigneshbhai said. He was on his own thought experiment trip to test the presence of the invisible audience.

“Hmm.. I will tell Raichand to do that, next time he buys some expensive toy,” Swami smiled with his face lit up.  

Jigneshbhai and I laughed aloud. We were getting a hang of what this invisible audience and validation stuff.

When I thought about it, I felt like he was right.

If we are really able to do those things like what Jigneshbhai had said, perhaps it will then be clear if we are doing something for ourself or for an invisible audience.

That’s what Sam wanted perhaps from Swami.

What if Swami ran a 10K and no one knew about it? Swami and I pondered over it.

“That’s why social media is so successful,” Jigneshbhai said. “A trip, a recognition, a new purchase and so many others. Quick sharing, Quick validation.”

“True, and a 10k finisher photo, shared everywhere. Makes me feel good,” Swami said, and I nodded with a reflective smile.

“We do so many things for the invisible audience. The invisible audience is definitely real,” Jigneshbhai declared.

“But isn’t this invisible audience only in our heads? How can it be real?” Swami asked.

“Of course, the invisible audience is inside your head, Swami,” Jigneshbhai had a smile on his face. “But what on earth makes you feel that it is not real?” He added, in a tone that sounded like a professor with a flowing white beard.

We broke into a loud laugh, and started biting into our very real muffins.

It was then that Swami said, “Maybe I will run the 10K, after all.”

Jigneshbhai was about to say something but Swami interjected him with a finger and said, “But don’t ask me anything about it.”

This moment definitely needed to be captured. So Jigneshbhai clicked a selfie. He told me not to share it with anyone, especially not with my invisible audience.

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