Fried in 10 minutes or less

By Dr. R. Balasubramaniam

There was a time when “fast food” meant waiting 30 minutes for a pizza. You prayed it would not be cold, wrong or delivered to your neighbour. He might take a bite before realising it was not his. Today, we expect dinner in 10 minutes flat — or else.

Welcome to the Swiggy-Zomato generation. A population trained to believe that if your groceries take more than 600 seconds to arrive, you are being oppressed. If your biryani takes longer than your buffering Instagram reel, civilisation is crumbling. Blinkit, Zepto, Instamart — they are not just apps; they are lifestyle choices. Cultural movements. Worship services in the church of convenience.

The age of 10-minute miracles

We now live in a world where it is entirely normal to order bananas and body wash while brushing your teeth. They arrive before your mouth has stopped foaming. My son once ordered eggs on Blinkit and the delivery guy handed them over while I was still asking him why he did not walk down to the corner store. It felt like the chicken had laid them on the way.

Another time he ordered ice cream. By the time I got to the fridge to make space, the doorbell rang. There he was — the dessert ambassador — barely winded. Either he is secretly living in our car garage or these apps have wormholes under our cities.

This isn’t speed. This is teleportation.

Convenience is our new God

Let us admit it — we are addicted to convenience. We no longer walk to grocery stores. We no longer cook. Heck, we no longer wait. Even 12 minutes feels excessive now. We want things now, hot, sealed, algorithmically personalised and ideally with free delivery.

And to be fair, this economy of instant gratification is no small force. It has created thousands of jobs, turned delivery riders into urban superheroes and given people more time to… well, scroll endlessly on their phones. Productivity? Maybe not. But convenience? Peak.

The start-ups are booming. Venture capitalists are drooling. India’s consumption engine is running on caffeine, sugar, screen time and nostalgia for a time when we actually knew how to boil rice.

The death of the kitchen (and the Mysuru Saaru)

Ask a 20-something today what “Mysuru Saaru” is and you will get a blank stare. Ask them to cook it and you will be blocked. The modern kitchen is now just a glorified storage room. It is filled with old take-out containers, delivery bags and a pressure cooker that has not whistled since 2018.

I overheard one of my young office colleagues bragging about his new flat just after the house-warming. “The kitchen’s untouched, bro. Mint condition.” As if not cooking is a badge of honour. The only heat his stove has seen is from a malfunctioning ring light during an Instagram Live. The kitchen used to be the heart of the home. Now it is the Airbnb photo nobody uses.

Health? That was so 2010

While our thumbs get stronger, our digestive systems are filing complaints. We are speed-running meals, eating ultra-processed food with ultra-short attention spans. We are hitting new PRs — not in fitness, but in how fast we can order samosas before the cricket match resumes.

A whole generation now believes “balanced diet” means a pizza with equal amounts of cheese and regret. We are building bodies out of sodium and start-up coupons. And do not even ask about gut health. If our microbiome had a therapist, she would be on vacation indefinitely.

The time paradox

“But we are saving time!” you hear another young colleague argue, mouth full of momos. Are we? Really?

We do not use this new-found time to meditate, paint or call our parents. We use it to watch 12 consecutive reels of someone else making lasagna. Or worse — review our order status every 90 seconds like it is a breaking news update.

We have confused speed with efficiency and convenience with meaning. The more time we save, the less we seem to know what to do with it.

The gig in the gig economy

Let us also not forget the real MVPs: the delivery partners. These folks are out there dodging potholes, street dogs and rogue aunties. They even risk death itself to make sure your cold coffee arrives… well, cold.

And what do they get in return? 5 tips and a 3-star rating because “the fries were a bit soggy.” We are outsourcing our basic needs and our empathy.

The system runs on their hustle. And sometimes, their suffering. We get instant noodles. They get delayed insurance.

So, what now? Uninstall everything and start farming?

No, don’t worry. I am not asking for a return to stone tools and charcoal stoves. I love my 4.30 pm chai generously shared by my young colleagues at the office as much as them. But maybe, just maybe, we pause and consider what this culture of “instant everything” is doing to us.

Maybe we cook once a week. Burn the onions. Overboil the dal. Cry while chopping. It is humbling. It reminds us we are not machines. That slow things still have value.

Maybe we eat mindfully without a screen in front of us. Maybe we tip our delivery guy a little more. Maybe we stop seeing convenience as a right and start treating it like the privilege it is.

Because here is the deal. We are getting everything we want in 10 minutes. But we might be losing everything we need — slowly, invisibly and ironically, one hyper-fast delivery at a time.

So yes, go ahead. Order your groceries. But once in a while, also visit the store. Chat with the shop-keeper. See what carrots actually look like before they are grated.

That — not instant noodles — might be the real nourishment we have been missing.

[Dr. R. Balasubramaniam is the Founder of Swami Vivekananda Youth Movement. ‘The Lighter Side’ is a series of satirical articles meant to bring a smile by highlighting the funny side of everyday life.]