I received the most hilarious connection request on LinkedIn the other day – Hey Mitali, LinkedIn suggested we connect so who am I to stand in the way of their algorithm? “Fair enough”, I replied and we both agreed that we cannot argue with LinkedIn. It cheered me up in an instant and got me thinking about how apps like Facebook, LinkedIn, Instagram come up with suggestions to build connections. Upon some researching, I learnt that LinkedIn uses complex search engines, our profile activities, commonalities between other members etc. to send us recommendations. Similarly, other social media platforms I’m sure have a dedicated team of tech savvy professionals who are continuously working hard to create such algorithms, for a living. Most of our present-day social media also seem to have a pretty clear and straightforward company mission - to connect everybody in the world. The definition of connecting has evolved, and we now have more avenues to connect than ever before. But on the downside, we also constantly find ourselves questioning our self-worth and comparing ourselves to faces and people who we think are leading a better life than our own. Wanting to follow these successful and more charismatic people has become so important that we would rather park our original theories and ideas to ape the judgements and thoughts of others and constantly ignore our own voice.
Luckily the world hasn’t always been like this. Going back to the days of dial-up landline phones when people had more tolerance and patience for communication, can seem like a lifetime ago. We had a landline phone that summoned us with its loud ringing until one of us ran towards it to receive it, no matter which nook and corner of the house we would be in. I would beat my father to it and give him one of my ‘you were too slow’ smirk in affirmation of my victory. In those days, dinners and lunches with the family in the dining table were a fundamental way to keep up with the rest of the family and their lives. Our lives were not governed by the Internet and there was no such thing as being online. Only one of my friends back then had an internet connection and owned a gigantic clunky computer which made you wait several excruciating minutes to (hopefully) get you online. I feel very fortunate having a chance to live in that era as a child where friendships started through real conversations in cafes and neighborhoods and through letters.
Speaking of which, I loved writing letters and when this really good friend of mine at school moved to another city, letters were the only way to stay connected. She helped create some of the best memories from my childhood and it was hard to be separated after 8 long years but staying in touch through letters provided great comfort. I was the only kid in my neighborhood who had a reason to go to the post office at the end of the day. That anticipation of waiting for a scribble to learn how my friend’s weeks or months had gone was frustrating yet very fascinating. Sometimes there would be postcards and inland letter cards when there was less time for a full letter which was equally awaited. Letter writing may not have been efficient but the mere fact that somebody would just sit down and pull out a piece of paper and think about someone the whole way through with an intention is so much harder to unearth these days, when the browser is up and the smartphone is pinging and we have got 6 conversations going on at once. Letters were easier to write back then, because there was no internet, and long-distance calls could get expensive. Today with Facebook and other apps, one doesn’t even need a working telephone to talk back and forth, and can use video calling to stay in touch with one another. It sure is a blessing in that.
I like to compare these worlds between my past and the present as the difference between analog and digital. Old radios, the walkman, landline phones, fountain pens and typewriters replicating the innocent and simple analog past. Whereas, modern electronic devices such as laptops, mobile phones and tablets representing our discrete present and possibly the future. I remember, as a kid paying visits to my mom’s office during the Holidays and tapping unstoppably at the keys of the typewriter at her desk, I just loved the chiming sound it made while starting a new line. I like to think of them as time capsules to take a pause and reflect on my own journey. While we endeavor to learn from new experiences and people we connect with, there are many lessons to be learnt from our own beautiful past.
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