Swipe, Scroll—Still Lonely

The author shares his tryst with Clubhouse—the app where every lonely heart became part of a collective dirge

- Aditya Tiwari

MY whole life, I've oscillated between different time zones and tongues-from one place to another-India to America to Britain. The faces changed, the cities changed, but one thing remained a constant companion: this searing, unyielding loneliness. It was never the kind of solitude that burst into my face but rather something more insidious, like a shadow that followed me no matter where I went.

Maybe I've always been looking for places to belong. As a teenager in Jabalpur, I remember sneaking onto Twitter late at night, talking to strangers. I was fifteen, sitting on the floor of our tiny house with the glow of the desktop screen flickering on my face, feeling like I was part of something bigger. The people there didn't know me, but they listened. That was enough. Years later, Clubhouse felt eerily similar.

The first time I entered a Clubhouse room-the app where every lonely heart became part of a collective dirge-I remember a barrage of voices, some abrasive, others distorted like a long-distance call. There was laughter, the occasional awkward silence, and a kind of electricity in the not-quite-audio, not-quite-text space. It felt like walking into a cocktail party mid-conversation, except here, you never had to show your face. And anyone could tune in and interact through highly stimulating rooms. So, I started using the app frequently whether It was late at night or early in the morning; while I was in bed or doing something. And suddenly, I wasn't alone anymore.