Food is Zomatoed or Swiggyied. Taxi is Olayed or Ubered. Things are Amazoned or Bluedarted. Cricket is T20ied. Marriages are onlined. Romance is e-platformed. Babies are e-mothered. Movies are Netflixed. Gods are e-darshaned. Business is e-commerced. Intellect is ‘AI’ed. Education is virtualised. Surgeries are robotised. Wars are simulated. Office work is e-homed. Banking is e-done. Money is digitised (sometimes demonetised too). Friendships are encrypted. Dreams are e-marketed.
I was wondering what if our reincarnation theory is true and if someone is reborn now and to his horror, recollects his previous birth memories from decades ago. My head is spinning over how he would feel about the e-changed lifestyles now.
Well, I was turning the pages of a newspaper the other day (print editions are still a reality). A real estate promotion advertisement says, “Wake up to the sound of birds.” Why only avians? Why not wake up to the roar of an e-lion instead? After all, it is all simulated now. Your flat can be in the middle of a wildlife sanctuary in South Africa, if you wish. If a writing instrument can aspire to find a place in the sea, why not a dwelling unit in a forest? (I don’t intend to offend anyone please, though many would rather use their fingers nowadays to tap on the keyboards, than for writing.)
Social media trivia says that a certain multi-billionaire cannot even afford to bend to pick up his own 100 dollar bill that he dropped, lest he loses millions within those wasteful seconds that he would have otherwise made elsewhere in his business empire. It is all jet speed, all around.
Did not our investors lose a whopping fortune over a report, overnight? We are already “super-powered” (pun intended please) in the 21st century itself.
Still living in those olden (golden, rather) times, I, a 70-plus, took my mobile, gifted by my NRI son, to a local service engineer, the other day, as it struck work. The fellow said I was too incompatible with its technology as most of its functions were touch sensitive and I was too outdated to operate it. What? Am I a misfit already? Does he mean I am nearly brain-dead? Then, as ill luck would have it, I once took my new-age scooter to the next-street mechanic as its headlights were “on” even when not required. The fellow has the temerity to tell me to go for a simpler local version, one befitting my age.
Oh! Heavens! Am I so outdated? Or have I outlived my time? Is my time also up, to take my next birth? My head is spinning over what if I too exit and take rebirth in this holy land and rewind my old memories?
pushpasaran@yahoo.co.in
