11 July 2026
My Google Drive has been informing me of low storage space for a while now. Every morning it issues me with its own version of a gentle reminder: “83% of 15 GB used”. I have been careful to not let this number hit 85%, because that’s when the reminder slowly starts turning into a threat.
On some nights, I take it upon myself to delete the unwanted bits – photos that no longer seem as magical, screenshots that are no longer relevant, documents that are literally done and dusted with, emails that are now redundant. The storage space clears up albeit at a snail’s pace. ‘What is taking up the biggest chunk of storage space then?’ I dare ask. “WhatsApp”, comes back a one-word reply.
The WhatsApp backup is in several GBs-so deleting it might be the sigh of relief I am looking for. But dare I?
So I try and find myself a golden middle – delete the number of saved chats in my WhatsApp inbox; which should reduce the backup GBs, right? Certainly sounds simple enough.
I open WhatsApp, a woman on a mission. Scroll right till the end; a logical decision of working my way from bottom up. That’s what worked in my career, so how hard can a messaging inbox be? Attack the oldest chats first, the most dormant ones.
The bottom is heavy with empty group chats. Groups that were once created for a specific purpose – birthday surprises, sharing wedding pictures, planning a trip together, managing dinner logistics with people spread across the city. The purposes were long served, those one-time events having celebrated several anniversaries since then without requiring our active participation. I open each one fondly, only to discover that I seem to be the only one hanging around in several of these dead groups.
That makes it easy – or so I thought. Up come some groups that still have the original participant list intact. No one has exited the group, no one has updated their number. No one has also initiated conversation there for the last 3 years. While I find it relatively easy to Exit and Delete from the ‘sole survivor’ groups, something in me falters when I opt to do the same on these ‘full attendance’ groups.
“I might need an address saved within these chats.” “I might want to scroll up and laugh over the camaraderie we once shared.” “Perhaps I might need to recall her child’s name mentioned earlier.” I come up with numerous (not always very convincing) excuses to save those chats; knowing fully well that while I sit with this bulk, I am never really going to be scrolling through them ever.
I persist, managing to delete some personal and some group chats along the way. And that’s when I face my biggest conflict – a group chat of my school friends who were once my life and soul. We bonded over common interests, an active sense of humour and complementing personalities. The WhatsApp group was never constantly active, but when it did come alive, each message ensured a chuckle and a maniac typing speed in response. We went from sharing live location updates to life updates, from deciding which board games to bring over on trips to playing online versions of those same games during COVID to keep ourselves sane. It was a platform for our debates, exchange of information, advice and rants. Each person contributed, bringing their own fresh perspectives.
Over the years, the activity in this group dwindled – as did our actual conversations, online and offline. There were rare messages on the group; each of us opting to connect personally instead. The cohesiveness no longer seemed to work, and it showed in the silence that enveloped that particular group chat.
There have been occasional pings there though – updates of children being born, contact numbers being updated, a latest movie or book scheduled for release in the series we all followed diligently as children. And so I have always preferred to call this group ‘inactive’ rather than ‘dead’.
Around 10 days ago, I posted something on the group that I knew (or at least thought) would interest all of them. Till date, only 2 out of 4 participants have seen my message. Only one bothered to reply. Something in this silence left me uncomfortable; unseen and unwanted. ‘Perhaps I should just exit the group’, a thought crossed my mind. So much easier than walking away from these actual friendships. But something within doesn’t let me.
Why do I stay – even though I might simply be talking about digital group chats?
Perhaps I linger – afraid of being the bad cookie who left first.
Perhaps I hesitate – knowing that pressing Exit would acknowledge that it’s all in the past.
Perhaps I postpone this decision for another day (or month or year) – to hold on to those memories for just a little bit longer.
Perhaps I will eventually learn – to let go; either of the hurt of messages remaining unread or of nostalgia itself.
Until then, Google and I will get back to carefully curating our storage space of memories!