You know what’s funny? Almost every choice we make in life is basically a remix of someone else’s ideas. Our brains are like those old tape recorders that just keep replaying whatever our parents, teachers, and the colony uncle in the white Maruti 800 told us about right and wrong.
Think about it. Your taste in food, clothes, movies, even your preference for chai over coffee—all of this is 80% hand-me-down programming. You didn’t wake up at age four and decide, “Bro, aloo paratha is going to be my soulmate.” You liked it because someone fed it to you ten times and smiled proudly every time you finished your plate.
If you’re lucky, the remaining 20% of your tastes are your own hard-earned, trial-and-error preferences. Maybe you discovered you love Pani Puri with extra teekha chutney even though your mother thinks it will burn a hole in your stomach. Or maybe you found out you hate Goa, despite Instagram trying to convince you it’s a spiritual awakening in beach shorts.
The problem is, we don’t stop to notice how little of our “liking” is genuinely ours. And nowhere is this more ridiculous than in our addiction to reviews.
You know the drill: a new movie comes out. Ten seconds later, everyone is scurrying around for reviews like they’re ration coupons.
“Oh, FilmCritic123 said the cinematography is weak.”
“MissMovieBuff said the editing is patchy.”
First of all, who made these critics the final authority?
Movie-making involves thousands of people sweating it out under blazing halogen lights, working 18-hour days, all believing they’re creating something worthwhile. And then one guy with a YouTube channel and a fancy mic declares, “3 stars, could have been better.”
Excuse me, sir, did you single-handedly invent cinema in your bedroom?
It’s not just movies. Think of food bloggers telling you this biryani is “to die for,” but when you eat it, you wonder if you accidentally ordered boiled rice with a side of depression. Or travel influencers promising you the “most magical sunrise” at some hill station. You go there, and all you get is overpriced chai and a fight with your spouse about why you didn’t pack the thermals.
You know why this happens? Because your experience is yours alone. Your taste buds, your sense of humor, your mood that day—nobody can factor all that in when they write their precious little review.
So here’s a radical idea: let your brain be your own critic. Yes, read reviews if you must, but don’t let them hijack your decisions. If someone says a restaurant sucks, maybe note it down. But if they say a movie is a masterpiece, don’t automatically treat it as gospel.
Try things. Judge for yourself. You’ll discover that sometimes, what the world calls “mediocre” might be exactly what you needed.
After all, your life doesn’t need a five-star rating from anyone else.
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