Thursday, September 19, 2013

Lessons from Thunderbolt


A heavy thunderstorm hit my locality, this morning (15 September 2013). It was a Sunday morning.

I had, after a long time, planned to take an early shot at writing. The previous night I planned, to post an article in TIC early in the next morning. I hadn’t posted the Saturday Flick, this Saturday, instead there was another article that needed attention—“The Onam Paradox”. This article was about Onam, the agricultural festival in Kerala, starting from 15 September, for three days.

Sometimes, strange reasons coincide to form phenomenal down pour of Grace, the flow from the Above, the Grand Love of the Maker. I felt myself flowing inwardly in one such stream, when I first realized the modem that connected my computer with the world had been damaged in the thunderbolt. Normally, this would have upset me deeply, and it did, surely to a limited extent. Since, the internet is the easiest medium that signifies my connection with the world, the accompanying panic at the realization of the severing of this bridge is quite natural.

There are moments when I let fear rule me, but there are occasions when fear and uncertainty should not veil our perception. What if this is a sign, I thought.
 
Image Courtesy: Google
What if the earth-shaking thunderbolt is a sign from above?

Social media is very powerful in its stealth and capacity to remain unnoticed in contexts we never expect to find them. This is not just true in political scenarios worldwide, but also true about lives of individuals. The internet and the communities it hosts make one speculate that most of the people involved in the networking activities in social media salons such as Facebook are the outgoing types. Surveys have shown that this is not entirely true. There are those who do not prefer to go out with people, but still find it a lot better making friends in their FB profiles.

Occasionally, a J. D. Salinger effect comes to the surface of my mind, not about phoniness, but about being a recluse. I have noticed that such a feeling engulfs me when I spend too much time with Facebook or Twitter. Of course, no denial of the impact these two social networking sites have, today, on our generation. Interactive capability, ease, and sociability are only a few elements that make them cultural magnets for group behavior. Like most of the group activities, it is easy to lose focus in Facebook. Corollary to this psychological intervention, one loses precious time, often, in just sharing, liking, and commenting “Awesome!”.

This epiphany hit me at that moment. The thunderbolt was a sign, and the manifestation of the higher knowledge was right in front of me—the damaged modem. Because of Onam holidays, the telephone exchange, which is a government organization, would be on a major deficiency for employees. Most of them would be on leave. I decided to try my best to bring the modem into life, or at least to make sure, it was the modem and not the computer that was hit by the thunder. But as I suspected, at the telephone exchange, on a Sunday, only the watchman was available when I reached there. And he could not help. I turned to the nearest computer accessories’ shop. They too, sadly, were closed.

What if it’s a sign for me to stay away from the internet for the next three days, until the official holidays are over, to find more time for other things?

My publicity coordinator said she would handle the rest in Facebook and Twitter, and I can take a relaxed three days’ off.
 
Image Courtesy: Google
For the next three days, I lived in seclusion, from my online communities. The result of which is “Grace”—the new series of love poems. Now, it is the planning stage, where to publish it and how, etc. If you are a reader of TIC for more than a year, you may know where I normally publish my i-poems, don’t you?

Have my point of views regarding TIC changed after Wall of Colours? Perhaps they did, but not so much as to disappoint you.
_WINK_ 

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

i'll be waiting for the new series of i poems. All the best..
chaks