Technophrenia

A post man's job has been reduced to half in urban areas. We do not see him anymore carrying bundles of letters to the beloveds from their near and dear. It is funny to watch old movies where in lives of the people upturn for want of communication, zeroed down to a simple phone call. It does not surprise me since I personally knew what an uphill task it takes sometimes. I had to move earth and heaven to convey my brothers about my mother's demise due to some agitation on top of our stupendous infrastructure in bygone era.

Before internet really started making a dent into our homes, I took it as a passion to write long letters narrating minutest details of what is churning in my mind with detailed description of the circumstances and surroundings. End of the day my letters always looked like a pocket size novels. I honestly doubt how many of my friends could finish reading my letters in one go. Or still there might be few more skeletons in the cupboard unopened and unexplored. I ensured that each word is carefully carved and spruced up, left few words deliberately visible under multiple cuttings, some resolutely erased leaving holes to the paper. Exceptional few were shabbily scribbled and some distressingly spoiled with few ink drops ( I was never comfortable with ink pen, and no pen on earth was good for me) . Until I was sternly told to withhold making Rangoli with my cuttings I enjoyed sharpening the phrases endlessly with ink tripping from my fore arm. It was a telling that I worked harder than any other on that particular day in my office if ever I leave carbon prints on every thing I touched. Back home I might have spent my whole weekend writing letters about a squirrel visiting my window, or ruing the number of F 20s supplied to Pakistan.

The long hours spent in scribbling something often gave us a chance to ponder, to improvise and hone our writing and spelling skills. Importance ascribed to the good hand writing was compelling. My father cited Gandhi for bad hand writing.(It was not bad at all at present day's standards) Good hand writing was a prerequisite for securing good percentage in exams. As I went a head with life journey my writings dwindled as I was thoroughly engaged with cleaning feeding bottles and changing diapers. Most of my creative hours were engaged with diabolic on slaughter programmer with veggies, or awful seasoning , I do not regret much though. Whenever I needed to write, e mail was most uncomfortable endeavor initially. I had to squeeze into 2 into 2 cubicle of internet cafe, and even at the end of one hour @ Rs.30, my letter would not get over. I had to call the attendant for frequent technical support. Google was not known or entirely was not there at all and frequently I had a problem in remembering the URL . My entire one hour toil would sometimes vanish with one wrong click. Writing a letter was a night mare sometimes in that hot chamber of torture. There was no other go if I want to communicate to some one abroad as sending Air mail was much more painful.

With magical computerization and internet in every house writing a mail to to the beloved is no longer a pain. Most official communications are turning to be emails, and I no longer stand in the "Q" to know my balance in my savings bank account, or pay my telephone bill. No doubt world has become smaller, along with it communications shrank smaller and smaller with no formal vocabulary. Spelling checks, grammar checks helped most awkward English proficients , some times I get worst doubts as to whether write clerk or clark ? . No wonder many teens might write Ur for 'your' even on paper. My hand writing became shaky and occasionally wonder what to write above the scribbled signature . Is it "To the Municipal Commissioner, love and signature?" " To the Commissioner of Police, Take care and signature ! I know my English is going from bad to worse. I am in a hurry to finish my letter as my internet may get disconnected before I finish my letter or my unscheduled power cut may disrupt the communication.

Same is the case with my cell phone. Call servant maid ? No longer a problem. She always carries her mobile with her. Fruitwalah, vegetablewalah, proprietor of a grocery shop , every body is busy with their mobiles . I have to wait till he finishes his chit chat and he never seem to be in a hurry to finish it . I was mindful of the information that my banana walah has a girl friend called Kavitha and vegetable walah has friend called Yadgiri. Reading his facial gestures I can understand whether he is going to talk for a minute or for a while. I get an inkling that I should buy my medicines before I come to this man again since during the conversation vegetables weigh less and cost more. I go the medical shop only to find another chit chatter. Instead of Overon SR I get simple Overon which I notice after reaching home. Every body had all the time in the world to talk..talk..talk, almost get up from bed with a cell phone hung to the ear. I always thought my morning hours are very precious and productive, but young ones seem to have no problem with continuous vibrations in the ear and emerge without getting dizzy. My own affliction with the cell phone is that I stopped memorizing the telephone numbers. Some times I am too scared to think, if I loose my phone I might loose my contact with this mundane world. Proudly I declare I don't remember my own telephone number. My personal pride of memorizing various long 12 digit bank account numbers and countless telephone numbers is getting faded. Telephone numbers, appointments, birth days, bank account numbers, locker numbers, reminders all go into this tiny gadget. I know my my brain has preempted of all its task. There stands a sales man selling husk near supermarket entrance telling me that I need fiber in my food. I see all the corporates who sell atta do all the hard work to remove husk from it. I am buying an expensive brawn to remake it husky. Why not I play Sudoku to improve my memory skills?

My grocery man doesn't seem to be a great believer in his adding machine. He finishes totaling my long grocery list in few seconds which rarely tallies with my calculated sum total, of course my pocket calculator was made in China, so it is capricious. My early day's of banking comprised of long page totals, and interest calculations, manually done. There were days when we proudly thought all that was banking. When rest of the world was exploring with new banking ideas we had spent day and night for a fortnight to locate tricky one paise discrepancy. To day right from balancing of accounts, interest applications, budgets, clean cash(Is there a dirty cash?) weekly reports to yearly profit and loss calculations are being done by the servers untainted with human sweat. Counter clerk barely has time to look into the customer's face. Signatures speak while computers work. Incentives are offered for making fewer visits to the banking hall. They are quicker in disposing the people. They offer wide variety of services. Customer or a casual visitor is being hunted with new products. Many smart looking bunch of young people in tie and suit in mid summer welcome and speak the language which many commoners do not understand. The targeted are found to be elated with something which looks exotic and refreshing. They feel privileged to be misunderstood. Expensive though ill maintained ambiance gives them feel good factor. Baring few who are in real hurry to complete their transaction few seem to look unhappy for being sent away so soon. Vanishing human face of service sector is only logical end to the perfection pursuit.

Automated complaint booking services never seemed to be manned at all. After playing "kaun banega Coredpati" for 15 minutes by pressing all the numerals on display I listen to heart rendering music which I am in no mood to enjoy. A sleepy voice takes down my complaint asking me to try some unknown operation on my computer only to get convinced that my system had not gone rot. I will be given a docket number followed by SMS confirmation. Up to that point it is wonderful. I don't try to stir out of home hoping to have a glimpse of my savior at any moment. Evening another SMS flashes stating my docket has been closed. How? When ? I have not seen a person with my eyes. He must have shook some cables at his end. So the docket has been closed. In 24 hours my problem revisits me. Personal phone calls won't work. The are obliged only to respond to a complaint booked.

Of late I find my self totally free of any work what so ever. My cooperative society where I keep my deposits says it has credited my dues on line. AP online appears at every corner of the street replacing e seva which is barely 100 meters away from my house. My telephone people offer discounts on my phone bill if payments are through ECS. Dish T.V. people are content with mobile payment. It is years since I drove to the drop box to drop my credit card cheque. I do not go to the Railway station since I book my railway ticket IRCTC. I book my air ticket through make my trip dot com. I draw my money through ATM. I am happy with internet banking. I play my tennis through virtual console . I book my cinema ticket through internet or Easy movies. I wish they transport me to the theater through internet.

Ouch! Why do you think I have a stiff back?