The Epidemic Of e 




Every morning 
The newspaper rocketed into the balcony. 
Pages were read, rustled and turned 
By my father in silence, seeking enlightenment 
About the world without. 
I was enamoured by the twitter of birds 
Wondering what they were conversing about. 

Today, the e-paper has no smell of ink 
It cannot be touched or, turned or, rustled. 
Twitter is more screeches, shrieks and squawks 
Producing a prodigiously perfect storm 
In the teacup every day, 
By a non-avian population termed Tweeple. 

The prolonged shout of “post “ 
Making my heart pound as I rushed to tear open 
Your long-awaited letter with a heart-warming 'Dearest'
I replied instantly… 
Rushing to the post-office 
Standing in queue, exchanging pleasantries with strangers 
While waiting to buy a stamp. 

Talking of stamps, I’ve preserved 
All the postcards from around the world 
Arriving with the postman’s smile. 
It’s been forever since I received a term of endearment
When a notification pops up … with a ‘hi’ or ‘hello’
If I’m very lucky in the efficient times of e-mail 

What memories! The mesmeric magic of markets 
From above, rays of sun from skylights sculpted by grain dust 
Below, playing hopscotch across puddles 
Of putrefying vegetables. 
An assortment of fragrances from flowers to fish 
Competing for the attention of my olfactories. 
The operatic chorus of countless shop keepers 
Corrupting my attention with a handful of dry fruit 
Slipped twixt my fingers; 
My other hand glued to mother’s hand 
Ere I wander while we meander through the maze of humanity 
Feeling the texture of saris, the tinkle of crystal. 

In the e-conomy, of e-marketing, e-retail and e-sale 
Seated in the same place 
I scroll up ‘n down the e-marketplace, click the mouse. 
Lo and behold the stuff is at my house, 
Sans the manic sensory experience. 

Oh, the joy of book shops, book fairs and libraries 
Rummaging through rafts for a bargain 
Even better the treasure of a first edition 
The chemical odour of a new book 
Or even better, the old, smoky, musty and dusty. 

Roaming the rows of the library 
A sanctuary for silence yearned 
Often clueless but always curious
Ogling at a pretty face 
Twixt the gap in the bookshelves.
Presently, deprived by the digitized 
Of touch and smell…and all pleasures sensorial 
The e-book serves to kindle interest

In the Garden of e
Flowers and trees grow on 4K screens 
Apple is no longer a fruit, 
All knowledge is accessible 
But manicured by Google’s gardeners. 
While Siri and Alexa, listen to our thoughts, 
Landscaping our minds to their designs 
Supplanted with anonymous algorithms. 
Having stolen the joys of serendipity 
Our stories too are filched and filed away 
To be cloned against us some future day.

Remember our meandering conversations over tea till sunset 
Before the Old Monk joined in? 
We understood our silences without a word spoken 
Now we chat - I don’t see your face, rarely hear your voice - 
In a language I scarcely understand 
With the dropped vowels and emojis 
A binary language ample with data 
With a paucity of vowels which are banned 
Creating noise in the head that annoys the reader. 

What's Up? 
Is a question we asked each other looking skywards 
In drunken stupor 
Transiting into a philosophical inquiry 
About God or, galaxies ... or even UFOs? 
Today, it’s the transport 
For ignorance and untruth. 

In e-ality
I've a thousand friends and followers 
Who want to be friends on Facebook 
Rather than be friends with me.
I'm getting the impression 
The likes of 'me' doesn't exist in reality

Plagues have ravaged humanity 
Oft changing the course of history 
But none so surreptitiously 
As this insidious epidemic. 

If you thought e-crime and e waste 
Was the most trouble we’ve faced. 
Consider e-boys, e-bullying e-girls 
With e-sexuality and e-toys 
Smoking e-cigarettes 
Bought with e-currency of course. 


Two hundred and sixty-eight terms prefixed by e! 
Is a tyranny designed to alter my reality irreversibly. 
Sounds more like a pandemic to me 
With scant chance of recovery 
To which, I must neither surrender nor succumb 
But survive, by inoculating myself immediately 
With the vaccine of common sense. 

everywhere, everything and everyone 
Is prefixed with an ‘e’ 
Extinct are emotion and empathy 
Will I continue to exist…to be me 
If I choose not to be prefixed with an ‘e’? 


©2020 Ranjan Kamath 


 


 





 

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