In the corner of the college pavilion, a boy sits down during a break. He rests on one of the supporting pillars, basking in the first trace of sunlight he’s seen all morning. This part of the campus is empty, and he feels as though he can serenely look at the clouds and ‘be’ for a few minutes until the next class. A few more classrooms are dismissed, and suddenly there are a dozen other students moving around the block. Immediately, he flips out his phone to show that he’s not alone. ‘I’ve got a phone in my hand, can’t you see? I’m not crazy’ the boy thinks, unsettled with the sudden change in environment. Regardless of how he wanted to spend those last fifteen minutes of solitude, it was in his best interest not to be seen staring into space with nobody with him and nothing to do.
A young woman is pacing in a large quadrangle. A person staring from a distance can only make out a lone figure walking up and down. If that wasn’t strange enough, her mouth is moving, and she seems to be laughing to herself. Just before the person can denounce her sanity, he notices that she is twirling something between her fingers. It’s the wire of her earphones. ‘She’s not crazy! She’s got a phone in her hand, silly me!’ they say.
Bang in the middle of the same quadrangle, there are two stone benches that afford one the comfort of letting down their legs, as opposed to squatting on the stone ledge of the corridor. The man in the corridor knows that there are only two ways he can sit on those benches. He either needs another person to sit with, or he can sit there and look down at his phone, making the whole thing look less awkward. Otherwise, just imagine some skinny guy sitting idle in the middle of a large quadrangle, twiddling his thumbs without even a book in his hands!
If you’re ever in the cafeteria alone, you’d best whip out a phone and scroll through painful images of your overachieving exes. Alternatively, you could listen to a podcast or read an interesting article even though you are currently emotionally and mentally saturated, being unable to process any more information save for the unnerving dread of being judged for sitting alone at an eatery. It’s one of the many senseless, pain-inflicting activities you can indulge in with your electronic social prop. Don’t just use your phone while waiting for your order, use it while you eat! Blindly shovel food into your mouth with one hand and stare at your phone with the other. You could be eating a rat’s foot and you wouldn’t know it. Really concentrating on your food, chewing and tasting it, is rarely encouraged. Restaurant etiquette demands that we get someone to incessantly talk with over dinner and subsequently choke on a bone, or use our phones as in-meal entertainment and choke on a bone anyway.
One can go so far as to say that the act of eating alone is shameful. Some anthropologist is going to tell you that the reason for this is because eating food by nature, is a social event. Historically, groups needed to come together in a collective effort to source and prepare food because of wolves and a lack of dishwashers. But with a phone, you’re never really alone, are you? See that balding man in the corner table? He’s been sitting there for almost an hour waiting for his date. And you expect him to sit there, elbows to the table, fingers clasped, completely calm? How long is he going to look at the menu? Or sip that coke and pick the seeds out of the lemon slice in it? Soon enough he feels the turning heads and glances of his co-dinners crawling over his skull. The intended or unintended whispers of the all-girl bunch seated near the aquarium grow louder and louder. The waiter’s unforgiving stare, commenting dreadfully on his solitary dining experience, becomes unbearable. Our bald friend becomes compelled to, (after a certain amount of mental resistance) pull out his phone from his back pocket. Finally, a blue light illuminates his face and parts of his baldness against the warm hue of the restaurant, and all has returned to equilibrium. Don’t be alone, be with your phone!
Similarly, A smart looking woman in an overcoat, scarf and heels stands outside at the landing of her apartment building. The Uber is 10 minutes away. Head bent, gazing intently into the phone, she holds it close to her chest as if she was saying a Hail Mary. The driver has already confirmed her request. Nonetheless, her eyes are padlocked and fixed to the driver’s location, registering every pixel traversed on the map. ‘In there’ is better than ‘out there,’ you see? ‘Out there’ she feels an omniscient presence around her. The evil eye of society, judging her overcoat, her scarf, her womanliness. Put those three things together and you have ignited enough contempt, agony, and yearning in the average Indian man to make him hold a gaze that would make any woman uncomfortable. ‘In there’ is her only escape. So, she stands there motionless and withdrawn, looking at her phone, forgetting the lewd looks from the men across the street. The cab icon on the app glitches and reappears much further away than it was, and the woman’s heart sinks.
A man sits drunk among acquaintances. The initial comradery, (encouraged by large swigs of whisky) has worn off, and it seems as though there is nothing left to say. And while they wait in drunken stupor for something worthwhile to say, our friend switches between social media applications out of boredom. Then his email and then a news app. A child was molested. Explosions in Beirut. The refresh button ceases to function, and he puts away his phone. He realises that not only can he not remember a single thing he’s viewed up until then, he is also more depressed than he was before he dialed in his key pattern. Unable to tolerate this detestable languor, he unlocks his phone again in the hope of remedying his inexplicable mood.
An old gentleman shares a train compartment with a young man. The train journeys through daylight and there are hours to kill before their destination arrives. The old man, unused to being idle on such a long journey, would have normally engaged in light conversation with his fellow passengers, sharing trivial details of his seasoned life. It isn’t impossible to imagine that two people, having absolutely nothing to do for six hours, engaged in a brief exchange of words, or even became acquaintances at the end of a journey. However, the youth sitting opposite him appears taciturn and preoccupied. He is satisfied with an uninterrupted stream of stimulating content on his mobile phone. The phone is a portal to many different worlds and lives and that too without the need of anyone saying a word. So, what does it matter if he is on a train or the peak of a mountain? What does it who one encounters and what they have to say about themselves? He could just as well read about or view the experience on the almighty, all-powerful, internet of all things. It’s no wonder he’s hardly impressed with anything these days. Somehow, his lived reality does not match the novelty and expanse of the collective uploaded human experience of 5 billion users. The experience of sitting on a train is therefore not very different from that of sitting on a toilet.
The gentleman owns a phone as well, but given era he hails from, he cannot deploy the device with the same adroitness as the youth. So, after scrolling ‘good morning’ posts and anecdotal jokes on his messenger, he places it on the foldable dinner tray in front of him. He imagines telling the youth of his travels as an engineer in the air force, a cherished privilege of old age. He would end with his favourite advice for young people– travel, while you still have the nerve. However, the young man’s engrossment is discouraging, as if approaching him now would cause a grave disturbance. The gentleman slowly becomes hyper conscious of his idleness. He becomes taken up with trivial details such as the general position of his arms and legs — folded or to the side? cross-legged or laid out? or whether his shirt is too crumpled. He begins shifting about restlessly in his seat, setting right some imaginary flaw. For the first time in his antiquated existence, he experiences an unnerving state commonly referred to by the younger generation as ‘anxiety.’ ‘Don’t be alone, be with me,’ cries the mobile atop the dinner tray. He picks up the phone and begins randomly pressing icons, for precisely what reason, he knows not. The youth, lifting his eyes above the screen, notices the older man’s fidgetiness. At this point, he feels compelled to say something, if not out of concern, then curiosity. The youth freezes midway, managing only to utter a faint incomprehensible sound. It dawns on him that he has forgotten the old ways. ‘Did you say something?’ The old man asks. ‘Nothing,’ the youth replies, returning to his phone. The two travel together in complete silence, each in their own curated digital experiences. Sending him a text would’ve been simpler, contemplates the youth regretfully.
To be honest, I’m completely dumbfounded when I think of how life used to be without this silly thing!
