Apologies! for the title is none of what I promised in my last blog. I was going through some blog and stumbled up on this thought I want to blog now. Things that make great blogging stuff are things of the moment, rather than a list of those less fortunate thoughts that cross the brain in the absence of a computer; but then most thoughts come to you on travel when you do not have a blogger at hand.
Moving on to this oh-so-fortunate thought that occurred to me before this computer, it is something to do with the computer and all those brain waves of human beings over the decades that culminated in this device. If there seemed to be a glitch in the previous sentence, it must be the absence of an adjective qualifying the device, which definitely merits the presence of one. The missing adjective has metamorphosed itself into the following paragraphs.
Going my the title, you would be expecting a very romantic blog, hoping I am capable of one. Sorry that is not to be the case, as we are going to deal with loving something that does not qualify as aesthetic to the majority of human race. No offense intended at all those great people who comprise the high IQ club and are so fascinated by the 'Maya' of technology and the way the 'Maya unfolds'. Though the object is not the conventional object of love, the dilemma is the usual stuff people suffer from.
Getting into the details, any body who saw my profile would know that I am an Engineer. Of course, our entire profession, (its my profession, in spite of the fact that I her prodigal son mentally and soon to be totally), lives on technology, its our mother, without which we would be starving. For most of my brethren, who are proud of their skills at wielding the magic box, the variety of applications, games, multimedia that this box has to offer is the best thing that happened to them in their whole lives. It could beyond doubt be the single biggest thing that can make them feel contented forever, for being born in this age in this profession where evening is a rare event in those timeless offices. The ownership of a PC by you or by one of your more "cool" roommates is a direct measure of your quality of life. The enormous amount of pirated movies you get to watch, the amount of pirated games you can play, gives you much more than a vicarious thrill of being a pirate in the Atlantic.
"So what's the whole point?". The whole point is that I hate computers; speaking without all those filters that one has to apply after the natural filter, the human vocal chord, to make your speech politically correct. But then you do not have a choice in this not so politically correct world, where the only known form of correctness is 'being politically correct'. The choice has already been made, I have to love computers, technology etc. etc. After all, I do not want all my friends to think that I am a cynic. Everyone wants to be happy-go-lucky and I am a part of everybody. Hence I have time and again decided to love technology.
But then, there are a few obstacles between this cubicle-boy-lover and the Princess Technology; the amount of restlessness and pollution that always accompany her, to mention a few. Ok, I am an old fashioned guy, who wants to walk in that small avenue by the canal side, listening to the songs of the birds and the giggle of the running water as the breeze flirts with my face. "What non sense, when compared the pirated version of the latest Bollywood movie smuggled over the border or the latest video game that we bought from that guy at National market who is compensating his dumbness in buying an authentic game CD by selling it off unauthentically to the smarter public?" Or say, "What fun is it when compared to zipping on a highway, at 100mpl in a super bike or car that your life gifted you with, for all those evenings of your youth (a term irrelevant in the world of technology, where there is only that successful future) you placed on the altar of the demanding Goddess of Success.
The stable err cubicle boy loves all those antics of the Princess that exist in the zoom she has to offer in his digi-cam, in the vroom she has to offer in his bike, in the favourite TV show she has to offer in his plano TV. The question remains where this deeply seduced young man can meet his love beyond the obstacles? Does he want to? If he were finally able to love her, after vanquishing his loathing for all the by-products of the princes, is the price worth paying?
