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I don’t need to say anything except – watch this mind-blowing video! Fantastic, futuristic -it’s like something out of The Matrix!
The strange part is that I’ve been discussing essentially the same thing with my son the past couple of years – only I thought the concept would be translated into reality about ten to twenty years hence. The video below just shows how much I’m off in my estimation of technological progress…
© Sosha Srinivasan
PS: Actually this should come as no surprise – because as Bill Gates put it: ‘People always overestimate what will happen in the next two years and underestimate what will happen in ten.’
On second thoughts – in this case atleast, shouldn’t that be the other way around???!!
There is an upside to having poor eyesight. My vision is corrected of course, and I recently got bifocals to boot! But the resultant visual “jiggle” that I experience can cause me to read wrong or, rather, different from what it actually is meant to be… Let me illustrate:
The sentence was a cliche – “We live in testing times…” which I read as “texting”!
And hey, what do you know – I’ve got an original one liner to my credit – I googled it (with quote marks) and it isn’t there! So here it is, copyrighted and all…
We live in texting times. – Sosha Srinivasan
Whoops! I’ve blown my cover!!!
© Sosha Srinivasan
On one of our evening outings in late 1995, I suddenly clutched my husband’s arm.
“Oh! The poor, poor man!” I exclaimed, indicating an individual who stood on the curb, half turned away from us, talking to himself and gesticulating wildly with his left arm.
Obviously a schizophrenic, abandoned on the streets by his family. The same thought seemed to have crossed hubby’s mind, judging from the sympathetic expression on his face. But wait… he seemed too well dressed and well groomed to be a candidate for the lunatic asylum! Oh well! Perhaps the condition was in the initial stage…
I burst out laughing and hubby couldn’t help but join in because just then the man had turned and we both saw what he held to his right ear… Sure, it was the size and shape of a brick… but the cellular phone had arrived in India!
~~~~~~~~~~
Fast forward to the present. I can hardly believe I actually went and bought one of those “things” – a Nokia 6233! Not after my rant against them in a previous post: Whatever it is, don’t call…! Several reasons why I did though:
1. I’d accompanied my son and hubby on a pilgrimage to a hill temple 100 km from Chennai last December and really felt the lack of a camera to capture some truly scenic shots.
2. I thought it was time I upgraded my mobile telephony skills – I don’t know how to make or receive calls on one – no kidding!
3. I finally allowed sonny boy to talk me into it – he should consider becoming a lawyer/negotiator! One of his most convincing arguments was that I could change the ringtone from the traditional, irritating one to a softer, more pleasing one of my choice!
The verdict? I’m quite amazed at the services and features.
I didn’t take the mobile to work the first week as I still operate it with a great deal of trepidation. If it had rung, I’d probably have handled it like a live grenade and chucked it out of the nearest window….! It is now on silent mode at work.
I find Generation Y so much more tech savvy – I read through the instruction manual several times and got totally lost… my son doesn’t touch the manual but seems to intuitively absorb how the phone works and then transfers the knowledge to me by a process I call “reverse osmosis!”
© Sosha Srinivasan
Sonny boy, all of seventeen, recently offered to buy me a cellular phone with his first salary a few years down the line. There was a wicked glint in his eye and he laughed as he promised… knowing full well how much I detest the telephone. I tell him in no uncertain terms that I’d probably smash it to bits (and grind it underfoot for good measure) on the very first day… or I’d end up a raving lunatic!
I can trace my aversion to the sound of the ringing telephone back to my days as a management trainee in a hotel. I was rotated on the 9-6 shift through the various departments, of which the front desk was one. The mornings would be just hunky dory. The trouble would invariably begin when my colleague on the 7-4 shift, as well as the manager, would disappear for their lunch breaks at 1 pm. The lady on the 2-8 shift wouldn’t have put in an appearance yet.
A typical scenario: All alone and the lobby looked so peaceful… Suddenly the calm is shattered by – you guessed it – the old fashioned rotary dial telephone shrilling loudly. I’d pick up – only to get a earful about another department’s deficient service from an irate guest. I’d be trying to get a word in edgeways when the second telephone right next to the first one would begin to ring insistently. Accomplishing the next-to-impossible task of putting Mr. Irate on hold, I’d answer #2, and go through the whole rigamarole again (this time: “Why do you people take so long to pick up…?!”). I’d suddenly become aware that a guest had materialized, seemingly out of thin air, and was tapping the counter impatiently. I recognize the guest, paste what I hope is a welcoming smile on my face, and lean over to try and retrieve his room keys from the slot. After a minute of acrobatic contortions that would put Houdini to shame, I notice the look of unalloyed shock on the guest’s face – as I almost lose my balance – and give up. I put down the receiver, do a strange sideways shuffle, retrieve and hand over the keys in record time. I take a step towards the two receivers – when the third one rings. Unfortunately, it’s at the other end of the counter, about 10 feet away from the first two… I’m able to deal with it in ten seconds flat and am hurrying back to #1 and #2 when yet another guest pops up. “Just my luck!” I groan inwardly while a polite smile stretches my orbicularis oris muscles. I know from experience that the chap, out of boredom or love (of his own voice) or whatever, just adores talking. He launches into one of his stories as I try to inch toward the telephones. He seems oblivious to my travails, so I excuse myself and pick up #1 – only to be lambasted once again… I juggle the receiver to my left ear and pick up #2. Just then #3 rings again… and a large group of guests walks through the lobby doors towards the counter…
So now you know why the sound of the ringing phone arouses the worst in me…
My son mesmerized, as is his entire generation, by mobile phone technology, has been pestering me and pleading with me – and when that failed – appealing to logic and reasoning to persuade me to buy one of those, those… thingummies! I certainly don’t fancy being on call 24/7, at the mercy of cellular phone service providers, insurance agents, banks and the like, invading my privacy and monopolizing large chunks of my time, both of which I value and treasure. Sonny tells me I can switch off the danged thing, but still… no thanks!
© Sosha Srinivasan
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