Representative image of chatting.
Credit: Pixabay Photo
A long time ago, when we wished to reach and make contact with someone, we wrote what is now euphemistically called “snail mail." There was the visit to the nearby post office, which always had a magical atmosphere of letters coming in and going out from all corners of the world. The arrival of a postwoman or man at the house was a special occasion because real missives from near and dear would be delivered into our hands. I always marvelled at the way the ‘dakiya’ had stacked the letters according to the house numbers and street names. Of course, we could not always keep up regular correspondence with people living far away, but come Christmas, we would all remember one another and send greetings. That brought warmth and comfort that we had access across continents and oceans.
Not so long ago, email came into our lives, and many of us thought we were the cat’s whiskers when we learned how to make the most of it. We could make contact instantly with people all over the world. Our inboxes were flourishing, and we were ecstatic at the speed of communication. Like most ageing people, we thought this halcyon state would last forever. Alas, not so.
Soon other exciting ways of being in touch unfolded, which left us far behind. Facebook was embraced by many of our friends and relatives, and as a result, they withdrew into some private lives of theirs and others. Then Trump made a monster of Twitter with daily tweets to everyone who wanted to read them, but we were happy to have no part in that and did not feel abandoned. But by now, e-mail had begun to look like an old work horse that people had discarded. So where did I go to find anyone? The satisfaction that came from sending off an email begins to fade as days pass and your inbox is mute. I felt that it's not that people don’t care, but just that they are no longer there! But where are they?
The first clue I had that I may be slipping out of people’s lives was when my siblings began to discuss conversations they had over something called Whatsapp, which I could not keep up with. After much hesitation and resistance from me, our youngest born persuaded me to use a smart phone and get onto this magical communication opportunity. But no sooner had I clambered onto that platform with helpful shoves and push-ups from younger family members when Instagram and Tik-Tok beckoned, and off the people went and I was left deserted again.
Now the spectre of AI looms over us. Will there still be ‘people’ as we know them? Thank you, Pete Seeger, for bringing your refrain back into my consciousness. Where have all the people gone, oh where have the people gone? And when will we ever learn?