Thus I was born with
those few basic programmes.
As voices and visuals poured in
I felt I got access to more.
Later I had my own words
Making me edit, delete,
Update and add more.
More faces, words, deeds
Knowledge, experiences –
The evolving continued.
Then the teenage rebellion!
The ordeals of life
Overhauled them often.
At times they were futile
Making me look pathetic.
Now here I am today,
digging into the enormous,
tangled pile of life files
searching frantically for
my disaster management docs!
Comment
Each time I see my profile pic
And an inviting blank space
Below each and every post
By those unknown ‘post’ers,
My heart starts pounding –
How should I comment on…
the lady who made dosa today,
the girls who had cupcakes and selfies,
the boys who tried beer and adventure,
the man who stood beside a Rolls Royce,
the activist who was infuriated,
the journalist who was ‘enlightened’,
the teacher who came across
another meme that resonated,
the business man who hosted
another dinner for the celebrities?
My material soul utters scornfully:
Loser, it’s your turn to impress.
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