Viraluddin traditionally believed he was on the right side of history. Not just right, but visibly right. The kind of right that could be screenshotted, shared, and applauded by many while vilified by others.

As time went on, a wave of liberalism had struck Viraluddin’s psyche. Progressivism was the name of the game and in hopes of staying relevant, Viraluddin had been inching closer to the left as well.

This time Viraluddin found himself at an impasse. Understanding the broader issue was never a concern because he always chose the “majority” as representative of his own views.

However, in this situation, a clear divide was evident. Other ‘uddins’ like him, mostly males, were not for the apology, while their counterparts, the “female uddins” (the demographic Viraluddin desperately wants sympathy from), were heavily engaged in oriental feminism.

“What to do?” Viraluddin thought to himself. Being a man himself was also an issue. On one hand he could easily garner up the “macho” support just calling females an explicit name, while on the other side he likes it more when empty headed female uddins engage with him in the comments.

With time running out, Viraluddin finally decided to go the liberal route first, thinking that a potential mid-way pivot won’t matter with the righty crowd.

“Today,” he wrote, “I acknowledge my place in a system I did not create but must dismantle.”

The likes came in waves. The comments followed.
“Respect, bro.”
“This is what accountability looks like.”

The response was encouraging. A few hundred likes. Some approving comments. One person called it “a necessary step.”

Viraluddin refreshed the page every few minutes, watching his moral standing rise like a stock market graph.

But the internet is a demanding audience. Yesterday’s apology often becomes today’s bare minimum.

In the meantime, Viraluddin saw that the wave had been shifting. A picture of a guy inside a gutter cleaning literal shit was being shared. Envy was the emotion Viraluddin felt. “Who the hell is this,” he muttered to himself.

An image of resistance was being shoved up Facebook’s feed and Virulddin resented not being the model himself.

He quickly realised that the liberals had very little to offer, and switched.

The switch followed a long 800-word status of why he, being an enlightened mind, realised that the need for apology here was a bit of an ‘overask’.

He denounced this apology culture, and cited 40 jobs (from various cleaning occupations) with high levels of risk that men mainly do.

His post ended with another apology, this time directed towards his right wing brethren.

“I apologise for yesterday’s ignorance.”
“I apologise for not apologising earlier.”
“I apologise for this apology being insufficient.”

Meanwhile, outside the screen, Dhaka continued as usual. The rest of the city folks barely have time to read 1000-word essays involving daring political theories.

As Viraluddin pivoted, he wasn’t afraid to be called out on his bluff. This shapeshifting nature is a part and parcel of the internet and he knew that he was only a small spoke on the proverbial wheel.

But the cruelty Viraluddin felt was that by the time he finished his long apology for switching opinions, he realised the post had already stopped circulating.

Facebook had moved on.

The algorithm had decided he was now irrelevant.
Two reels down, a man was dancing with a broom.

Viraluddin hesitated, then quietly wondered if he should apologise for not dancing with a broom earlier.

He again opened the comment box.