Zoom Qartulad May 2026
Then there is the unspoken rule of the “Random Uncle.” Every Zoom Qartulad call has one participant who never speaks, keeps their camera off, but whose name is listed. Is he listening? Is he asleep? Is he even in the same country? No one asks. He is the digital ghost of every Georgian gathering—present but silent, holding a metaphorical glass of mineral water. From Crisis to Custom What makes Zoom Qartulad truly remarkable is how quickly it moved from a crisis tool to a cultural staple. Even as Georgia reopened, people kept Zooming.
Desperate, families and friends turned to a corporate video conferencing tool: Zoom. zoom qartulad
By Nini Kapanadze
Older relatives, seeing their own video for the first time, panic. “Why am I so old? Why is my hair like this?” The result is an explosion of beauty filters. Grannies in the village of Sighnaghi suddenly appear with cartoon butterfly crowns and smoothed skin, toasting Stalin-era wine while looking like anime characters. Then there is the unspoken rule of the “Random Uncle
Tech startups in Tbilisi are now working on a “Georgian Mode” for video conferencing: a button that automatically allows five people to speak at once, a chacha glass visual effect, and a “Supra Timer” that reminds you when it’s been 45 minutes since the last toast. Is he even in the same country
What happened next was not a simple tech adoption. It was a cultural revolution. Four years later, “Zoom Qartulad” (Zoom in Georgian) is not just a phrase; it is a distinct digital subculture, a linguistic battlefield, and a testament to Georgia’s ancient talent for transforming foreign tools into something profoundly, chaotically, and beautifully local. To understand Zoom Qartulad, you must first understand the Georgian supra . A traditional feast is not about the food. It is a ritualized marathon of toasts, led by a tamada (toastmaster), where wine is philosophy, and every glass raised is a prayer for the dead, a wish for the living, or a sly negotiation. It is loud, polyphonic, and requires physical presence—eye contact, a hand on a shoulder, a shared shoti bread.
Suddenly, grandmas who had never used a smartphone were learning to “raise a glass” by lifting their laptops. Uncles were toasting with chacha in one hand and muting themselves with the other after a particularly loud “Gaumarjos!” The Zoom gallery view became a digital supra table: 20 faces in squares, each with a plate of khachapuri visible in the frame, each with a story.