“Hey! You went to Venice, right? How was it?”
“It was good, but it’s overrated now. Everybody goes there. It has lost its beauty.”

We hear such sentences often. For some time now, places, movies, songs, books, and even food have been given a new adjective: overrated. Why is this the case? The same places and things that once inspired art, literature, and culture often fail to impress people today. Perhaps the problem is not with the place or the art, but with our expectations. The more we chase uniqueness, the harder it becomes to feel wonder in what has already been loved by millions. I am not going to diagnose this fully, because that would require deep research into human behaviour. What I will share here are my own experiences with “overrated” things.

When I arrived in Chennai, the one place I wanted to visit was Marina Beach. I was told it is overrated and that there are other, smaller but cleaner beaches. Regardless, I went there. There was some truth in what I had been told; the beach was not very clean. Yet, when I walked up to the shore, I heard laughter. Families were ending their day on a joyous note. Children were playing and running through the shallow receding water. Couples were holding hands and looking out at the vastness of the sea. People from all strata of society were enjoying their well-earned evening together.

In that moment, I forgot about taking the perfect photos and simply absorbed the happiness and serenity around me. The smell of corn, the sight of kites flying high, and the chatter of vendors selling snacks all added to the atmosphere. It was not about the beach alone, but about the life it contained.

I have been to cleaner and less crowded beaches, but the emotions are not the same. At a secluded beach, you can be with yourself. At Marina, filled with people and emotions, you become one with the surroundings. Sometimes beauty is not in the landscape, but in the shared experience of being human together.

I feel we have always been focused on finding something better. In the pursuit of the new, we often overlook the value of what is already good. There is a sense of achievement in discovering something unearthed, but how do we measure its goodness? By calling it better than the “popular good” that already exists. What happens when we find another new good thing? The cycle repeats. The better becomes the new good, and the good becomes overrated.

There is also a certain pride in holding a contrarian view. To say “I did not like it” often feels like a mark of refinement, as though our taste is sharper than the crowd’s. However, in doing so, we sometimes overlook the deeper truth: the very fact that something is popular means it has touched the hearts of countless people. There is an art in overrated things. They have reached out to the vast majority, connected with many, and given people a sense of belonging.

It is a blissful day for me if I listen to Arijit Singh, eat at a popular city joint, and spend the evening among the crowd, blending in with them. These places and experiences have witnessed countless stories, and I feel proud when I contribute my own to them. The crowded restaurant has heard laughter and arguments, the beach has seen first loves and last goodbyes, and the song has healed thousands in ways words cannot describe. To add my thread to this fabric feels meaningful.

I look forward to doing the things that many others have done, because that is how I become a part of this beautiful society. One day, I will take the road less travelled, but I will never forget the crowded paths that brought me there. After all, even the most unique journeys often begin on the very roads that millions have already walked.