Earlier generations pored over their HMTs for telling time or their Heros for writing. We pored over our Nokias both for telling time and for modern day writing, which is known as typing. My mother had a Shaeffer, which was kept separately from the other pens and filled with ink and used only by her. We were not to use it because ‘the nib could take your slant’ and not be good for me. I don’t know where it is today or if it is still there. If I can retrieve it, I will retrieve a large part of my childhood. Sigh!
Most of us, now typing furiously on our smartphones, are the same ones who held in awe the first computer they set their eyes and first learnt to use it in college or high-school, along with other team-mates, in batches. I think we also learnt sharing then, in a real true sense of the word. Sharing time, sharing resources and sharing the very machine. I know of beautiful romances that have blossomed right there and then “ on big, unyielding, grey desktops. Romances where one typed one alphabet and the other punched out the space key. That must be really, giving space, in relationships. I am sure they continue the same, though of course, now we will not trust even our shadow with our machines, those machines that have, cunningly, allowed us to lead a second or a third false life.
When I finally got a mobile phone, I spent a lot of time with the handset. Changing the dial tones, the ring tones, setting special (or pesky) tones for special (or pesky) callers, ensuring that it was well taken care of, personalising it as much as possible. I used it for a good number of years. And did not wish to let go, even when it did eventually give trouble. But technology being technology, I yielded and then after a lot of reluctance settled in with another handset. Over a number of months, I personalised this handset too and realized that falling in love can happen again. This handset was anointed so good at one point of time, but then it quickly turned out to a laggard when catching up with other handsets.
For the longest time, I resisted getting a BlackBerry because well, my old Nokia was good enough. This was long before everyone had a smartphone. Then I switched a few years back and did not switch again even when I was told repeatedly by various sources, that BlackBerry was on its final stages. I used it till almost the very end, letting go with a heavy heart, since it was no longer being supported by various apps, primarily Whatsapp.
Now there are other handsets with swankier, needed features, which is technology telling me yet again that I need to move on. Since then, Dame Technology has cornered me, time and again, to move on. To try out options, features, apps, The Internet, touch-screens, voice-activation, Whatsapp, which I do, without much thought. I have started using my handset like a functional machine. Gone are my personalisations with the machine. Gone is my romance with the handset.
Hence, when I needed a new handset recently, this time, I pretty quickly gave the task of finding the right machine to a colleague. At which point, I realised that the machines are not holding their charm over me. Though I don’t actively look out for the latest handset or feature, I am much more open today to explore a better machine. I could be equally stoic if I am given this handset with these features over that handset with those features. I wish it wasn’t so, I wish that I could spend as much as time with the new handset as I once spent over my initial handsets, making them a part of my life and giving them some of my ‘personality’.
I heart my old handset. And I await a handset; which I hope will be my Shaeffer.
- Sonia Kuncalienker is an avid writer on matters that have no importance to anyone in the universe
