India, May 20 -- Growing up, most of us were taught certain basic rules of decency long before we ever learned words like etiquette or empathy. We were told not to laugh at anyone's physical appearance, to refrain from passing rude comments about someone's sartorial choices, and if we disliked someone, to simply walk away instead of standing there trying to tear them down. These were not profound life lessons delivered through grand motivational speeches. They were ordinary corrections offered by parents in everyday moments-a sharp look from a mother or a gentle reprimand from a father was often enough to remind us that mockery was not sophistication. Which is perhaps why watching the internet today feels so profoundly strange. A Bollywood actor recently walked the red carpet at an international film festival looking every bit poised and glamorous, yet what caught everyone's attention was not her presence, but the fact that the photographers appeared distracted while she posed. Within minutes, social media turned into a courtroom, flooded with comments calling it embarrassing, claiming she suffered from an "aura deficit," and mocking her for thinking she was an "international star". The excitement with which people circulated those clips was startling. It almost seemed as though many had been waiting for this moment-not to discuss cinema or celebrate global representation, but to derive pleasure from perceived humiliation. I found myself wondering, what exactly are we so eager to punish? To reach a platform like that is no ordinary feat. Yes, privilege plays a role. There is often a powerful production house backing these stars, alongside stylists, designers, makeup artists, and publicists-an entire corporate machinery. But beyond all of that, there is still a human being standing under blinding flashes before an audience waiting to dissect every expression and gesture. This internet's appetite for ridicule surfaced again recently, this time directed towards a journalist. He appeared briefly in a short film, perhaps as an experiment, or perhaps simply for the joy of trying something new. He is not an actor, and the scenes made that obvious, but the internet responded as though he had committed an unforgivable offence. Memes flooded Instagram and comment sections turned vicious. People who had likely never attempted anything outside their own comfort zones suddenly became experts on performance and credibility, reacting as if he had single-handedly ruined cinema itself. What fascinates me is how little room we now leave for people to be imperfect publicly. A celebrity must never have an awkward moment, a journalist must never experiment, and a public figure must either excel instantly or prepare to be mocked mercilessly. Perhaps these incidents reveal something far more uncomfortable about us as spectators than they do about the inadequacies of the people being mocked. Why are we so hungry for someone else's embarrassment? Why does watching someone falter feel so satisfying? Maybe it is because ridicule has become the easiest form of collective bonding online. Mockery travels faster than nuance ever will, a cruel meme gets far more engagement than a thoughtful observation, and once the pile-on begins, empathy exits the room. The ultimate irony is that many of us passionately advocate for kindness in theory. We speak loudly about mental health, bullying, unrealistic standards, and toxic environments. Yet, the moment a public figure appears vulnerable, awkward, or less than perfect, we descend upon them with astonishing brutality. Perhaps what we really need is not another conversation about celebrity culture, but a return to those embarrassingly simple lessons we learnt as children. If someone attempts something and fails, you do not have to publicly humiliate them. If something does not appeal to you, you can simply move on. Sometimes, maturity is nothing more than knowing when not to laugh at another human being....