Introduction
Recently, my septuagenarian mother visited us on one of her yearly sojourns. The news of her coming met with a mixed response from the kids. While she is an otherwise affable person, her absolute aversion to anything electronic has long been part of our core “family humour.”She is far from what you would call a netizen.
The “IT” Confusion and Roof-Corner Websites
Once, when my son announced that he aspired to be an IT professional, her eyes welled up with pride. She mistook his ambition, believing he wanted to follow in his grandfather‘s footsteps and become an Income Tax official. My son protested, eager to enlighten her. But, not wanting to break her heart or disrupt the peace at home, I simply let her be and shooed my son out of the room.
I remember another time when she argued vehemently that “Websites” could only exist in roof-corners, a debate that resulted in a dramatic walk-out by the opposition! To top it all, it shocked her to no end to discover that the Internet was actually as old as she was.
Gone were the days when she would cheer our son’s unbeaten century scored while playing with the mohalla kids. Today, the same boy makes her feel a century old by teaching her the nuances of the game on Ashes 10.
Faltu ki Jhappii vs. The World
Ever since her arrival, she had disapproved of the children’s friendships on Facebook, dismissing the platform entirely as “faltu ki jhappii” (useless hugs).
When the kids were really young, she took a slightly sadistic pleasure in choosing their friends for them. Needless to say, they deeply resented the oily-looking bookworms she approved of, rebelling by showing a clear preference for the driver’s kids instead.
But now, they are older, and she has lost her grip. They merrily chat with friends who cut across national boundaries, while she stands fuming over them. You simply cannot miss the victorious grin on their wicked faces!
“Stop them from peering at Windows 7 all day and teach them to admire the real world from a real window, the way I taught you.”
She, who until a few years ago thought “Windows” could only constitute a physical house, said indignantly one day. My children gave up on her in exasperation and glared at me. Can you imagine what hell would break loose if they told her about my own long friend-list on Facebook and my all-night twittering? Shhh…
The Skype Epiphany
Then came her birthday. She appeared to deeply miss her son’s presence, his children’s bear-hugs, the kisses, and of course, the gifts!
To pep her up, we decided to Skype with my brother, who lives in Johannesburg. We made her sit in front of the computer and waited for the magic to unveil. Suddenly, the images of our family on the other end came to life—all of them singing birthday wishes for her, blowing kisses, and virtually blowing out candles.
We waited with bated breath to see her expression change. And change it did. All we could see were tears of joy rolling down her cheeks.
It has been a week since that day, and my children are now the ones complaining. They aren’t getting enough time on the computer, because Grandma simply will not let go of the mouse.
— Originally published in the Hindustan Times, Nov 18, 2010.
