My husband, lets call him N is what you
could call a ‘screen junkie’. It’s a deadly affliction that can damage a few
grey cells, distort vision and even break up a marriage. He has this perpetual
need to stare at some screen all the time; TV, a phone, a laptop, anything. A
recent study concluded that the average youngster in India spends 10 hours of
his day watching some screen. They were talking about N.
Its 8:oo AM .The phone buzzes signaling a
flurry of incoming emails. With eyes half shut and crouched in the darkest
corner of the sofa with a teacup precariously hanging down the crook of his
hand, N sifts through the mails, mentally planning the day (that’s what he claims).
While sitting on the pot, it’s Facebook scrolling time. In between he attends to
a few Whatsapp pings. At office it’s another painful eight hours of drubbing
away on the laptop, multitasking with several pages open. Back home at 6 pm, he
flops on the recliner and starts playing FIFA on the Xbox, his eyes transfixed
on the animated Arsenal men. And as he ‘distresses’ I sit beside him and talk
to his right ear, recounting the day with a motley of news, gossip, and grievances.
When
we first moved into our apartment all the furniture were arranged against the
wall, pointing at the TV, as if to say that the guests who come in should also
watch the on going cricket match with minimal interruption. I suggested a
conversation pit, to arrange the furniture in right angles so that we wouldn’t
have to lean forward while talking or talk to each other’s side profiles. N finally
gave in, but not without making some disparaging comments about womenfolk
having to talk all the time instead of just chilling. Our conversations are now
punctuated by sitcom laugh tracks and Arnab hollers through our dinners.
Sometimes we call it a day by binge watching some television show on the
laptop. The iPad is another story.
Everyone I know strongly condemns the use of it by children until they have one
of their own. With parenthood the iPad transforms into this magical device that
gives one some ‘me time while our child is busy learning to make cup cakes with
Barbie.
Stuck at the traffic signal or waiting in a
queue? We fish out our smartphone and
start reading an inane forward on a chat group or analyse our friend’s photo
shopped display picture. What starts of checking one trailer on YouTube slowly
cascades into a chain of random videos. Time flies by. The other day at the endoscopy
Centre, while I was busy choking on the tube that was lunging into my stomach,
the doctor was hell bent on giving me a tour of my insides on the TV monitor to
my side. A screen to the rescue once again.
“Can you see your heart pulsating against your esophagus?” he said. My dying
wish was not be a witness to own heart stop beating.
Until the smart phone
happened I loved sitting in airports for hours, for the sheer people watching
potential it offers- the whole gamut of human idiosyncrasies and relationships
on display. But these days I catch the
young engrossed in swiping right and left on Tinder profiles much like a videogame
while married souls like me kill time by checking what’s for dinner on the
’Fresh Menu’ app.
Whatever happened to good old reading and
staring into empty space? Spa rituals and Suryanamaskars must make way for the
more important digital detox. When I did suggest it to N the other day, he
looked at me flummoxed as though I was accusing him of infidelity.
It’s unfortunate that for most of us work
is on the laptop. For instance, this column isn’t going to write by itself. But
have you caught up on this new Game of Thrones fan theory that is doing the rounds?
Maybe I will it read now, while my brain gently warms up.
Originally published in the column 'Pop Pourri', The New Indian Express, Bangalore 29th Aug 2015
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