| I am an old-fashioned girl. At least, I like to think so. I revel in writing long letters, sending meaningful cards to my friends and relatives all over the world, whether or not there is an occasion that warrants it. I abhor the telephone; I love mail. However, I'm also a 20th century kid, an engineer, a scientist, and must adapt to rapidly changing technology. When I was in middle school, I was introduced to a strange-looking machine. Well, it didn't look strange really; it just looked like a regular television screen, but they said that this machine, the computer, could do wonderful things. The computer took our lives by storm; schools and colleges started buying more and more machines; and we were taught a variety of programming languages. As I spent my days dreaming of becoming the most brilliant software engineer, I came across the latest wave in rapid communication -- e-mail. I considered it doubtfully, wondering how typed notes or letters could ever replace beautifully handwritten ones. But when I heard the adults bemoan how tough it was going to be to control children from surfing the world wide web and that they were going to have to impose strict "computer rules," my rebellious nature took over and I became the first among my friends to have an e-mail ID. Soon I was part of the "elite e-mail clique." Over the years, my e-address book has grown and I spend at least two hours everyday, happily zipping off long, wordy e-mails to my parents, or short, cryptic ones choc-a-block with slang to my "cool" friends. I've grown up too. About two decades after my revolutionary entry into the world of e-mail, once again, I face change. Last year, I heard of Facebook and Orkut, voted to be the world’s best social networking websites that let you keep in touch with long lost friends. This time, however, since I had no need to rebel, I pooh-poohed at these developments. These were teenage fads and open invitations for creeps to get to know your life inside-out. I was a mature, rational, "E-mail Queen." I could control my address book and was equipped with powerful spam filters and anti-virus software that would keep the crazies at bay. More and more twenty-something kids went Facebook and Orkut-crazy; I remained a staunch e-mailer. A year has passed since. I remained the only one writing long e-mails. I persisted even when I did not hear back much. At social gatherings, my humble offerings of "compose mail" and "reply" were politely ignored in favor of the more glamorous "poke" and "scrap." Finally, curiosity got the better of me and on an auspicious day (we Hindus have to start every new venture on a day that the Gods will favor), I accepted an invite to join Orkut. The initiation process wasn't as painful as I had anticipated and I started off by adding three friends and "scrapping" them. A week since then, I have 89 friends on my list of contacts and 90 scraps. Needless to say, Orkutting (that's a real word these days) has worked itself into my daily routine quite nicely. I'm still an old fashioned girl, but as the world around me changes, I slowly allow parts of me to change as well. I write letters to my grandparents, e-mail my parents, and scrap my friends. |
| Winds of change by Ramya Kapadia |
 |
 |