Recently when I attend dinners and events, I notice that the parry and thrust of “one-upmanship” has increased to colossal proportions.
Singapore may not have four seasons, but it has one constant climate: competitive humidity.
From the moment we show up in Singapore, we switch into upgrade mode, which is a good thing except when it is done to provide a good gloat over everyone else in our ambit.
It’s an art form, a lifestyle and, at times, a full-contact sport.
Whatever you do, there’s always someone who has done it better, gone one step further. Not acceptable!!
In a country as small as Singapore, where everyone’s successes are visible, the pressure to keep up has never been higher.
I, my husband, my children have to be smarter, richer, wiser, better wed, better employed, better connected, better endowed, all with better zen than everyone else or we face relegation like a non-performing football team.
Better Zen? Yep. Even the singular art of bringing one down to earth – meditation – is charged with competition.
Once upon a time, inviting people home for dinner used to be a simple, fun-filled “have some laughs” activity. Now, in some social circles, it’s all about out-cooking your friends.
If you are a simple chicken curry or thair sadam hostess, forget about it. Now, every dinner gathering is an unofficial Masterchef episode.
The conversation goes something like this... Puja: “I always make my butter chicken from scratch”. Reema: “Oh, I use a secret family recipe from my grandmother in Punjab. The spices were hand-ground by monks in the Himalayas.” Kavita: “ I use intermolecular gastronomy. My biryani is infused with saffron air.”
And then someone serves a Japanese style, sous vide, sake-infused matcha – smoked Wagyu steak!
My solution: To outwit the competition, I host a potluck, so everyone brings their own dish, and, in a twist of genius, I make them compete against each other! Heng Ah!
So, while our potluck is on (with the Noritake dishes because the Sentosa crowd can’t eat in less) the men are standing near the bar quarrelling about who owns the best single malt collection, until the subject turns to wealth accumulation. This separates the men from the boys.
Amrish: “I bought on the dip, doubled my investment!” Bhoumick: “Oh I saw the dip coming long before you. Bought super low, sold super high, tripled my investments!” Kumar: “Stock market? Hah! I don’t even look at the stock market. My money works for me whilst I meditate! Adani has asked me for my secret. Not sharing.”
So, as I’m collecting the wine for the ladies, I wonder, does anyone here actually lose money ? Except my husband who makes a habit of it. Or maybe it’s just the French Bordeaux that the ladies insist on drinking that is sinking the family fortunes.
Oh, and while they are sipping their vino, they are at their observant best. A complete inventory of who is wearing what is established followed by whispered allegations of which of the night’s Chanel bags, Hermes scarfs and Jimmy Choo shoes are rip offs or second hand.
The conversation inevitably moves to their children. Puja: “My grandson is in a gifted class.” Reema: “Oh, my granddaughter is in Mensa.” Ranjani: “My toddler has my genes... he’s coding Python.” Suchitra: “My newborn just got an internship at Google!”
This I realise is the “Keeping Up with the Kiasus” effect. Kiasu one-upmanship has always existed, but Singapore’s prosperity has taken it to new heights.
Singapore is small, which means everything is in plain sight - your neighbour’s new car, your colleague’s condo upgrade, your friend’s child winning yet another academic award. And, because success is so visible, it’s impossible to escape the silent competition to prove we’re thriving too.
But the ultimate battle ground of FB, Insta and TikTok have turned life into a performance. Everything must be carefully curated – holiday photos, food choices, even gym workouts.
If it’s not on social media it didn’t really happen!
One-upmanship can be fun, but it also creates unnecessary pressure. It turns life into a constant competition where satisfaction is always out of reach.
If you really want to win this game, stop competing. Live without the need to prove anything. And, if that’s too hard, at least pretend you don’t care. Meditate!
Oh no, even meditation has been turned competitive by the ultimate spiritual fiends.
Meditation is supposed to be about self-awareness and inner peace. Hmmm, I’m not sure about that.
Someone at brunch casually mentions: “I’ve been meditating every morning. It’s really helped with my stress.” But, before they can take another sip of latte from their $3,000 coffee machine, someone jumps in.
Aditya: “Oh, I do 45 minutes of deep breathing at 3am.” Vanasri: “I did a ten day Vippassana course. No talking at all.” Satya: “Honestly, I no longer need food. I survive on prana alone!”
Welcome to the mindfulness Olympics – where even detaching from worldly success has to be done better than everyone else!
In a world obsessed with showing off, being genuinely content with what you have is the greatest power move. Try it.
Mimi: “I just bought the new limited edition Rolex.” You: “Oh, nice. I don’t wear a watch anymore. I just go with the flow of time!”
Game. Set. Match.
