The Table’s Soliloquy - Unplugged

Date: 27.05.2050

I was smeared with the dust of an abandoned entity so heavily that it formed a permanent layer of melancholy over me. It was easier for random hands to scribble over me as if I was a canvas to give shape to the whimsical thoughts and desires of an amateur artist.

 My body was still strong enough to shoulder the burden of hands that would rest vigorously over me, to be the instrument to dole out  beats to the songs that were hummed on a cold January evening, to be resistant against the accidental spill of the tea on a monsoon evening that erupted from the mixed humour of the reunion party, to be a part of the date that connected two souls for the first time.

Today, I sit in a museum and wander why the people of this digital world regard me as an archeological wonder or is it the illusion of of your virtual imagination?  

Message Sent

The rhythm of life is dictated with these two words.

I feel glad to be a part of a world where communication is dominated with the digital layers of technology, where thoughts can be filtered and enunciated with emotional emoticons and then sent to the person on the other side; much contrary to the traditional form of face-to-face communication where expression does all the talking followed by latent blabbering.

   

It has become such a ubiquitous thing that a person without access to Whatsapp is considered as backdated but we must not forget the fact that spoken words have a larger impact due to their phonetic appeal. The psychological impact is much deeper as compared to the typography on a 5 inch screen; hence, it would be wrong to judge a person on the basis of his or her access to technology.

The rhythm of life will continue to hymn irrespective of the way it is communicated; what matters is whether the message is sent or not.