Enter the net

 The other day, the Wapp/Facebook/Snapchat(?) trio was down for six hours, and the whole world was  up. In protest. As for myself, initially, I did not realise the plight because I do not use the Facebook as four faces booked of mine are playing hide-n-seek there! I just do not have the patience to delete any three, send friendship requests from there to here, answer questions about my own veracity and authenticity. As if one does not have to unnecessarily suffer enough of that Fate to `face' it  in the virtual wor(l)d, too!

Soon, however, three wapp messages, rather important, refused to move. At the other, receiving, end of these non-bugdgees were hi- fundoo people, not the ones frivolously playing at the block/unblock game. Well, my data provider has long back washed off any  responsibility whatsoever. In the service office main branch, I was most helpfully told to follow their own example, and switch on-n-off the device till the data pack dutifully chose to grace the screen. That sureshot panacea could not revive the moribund mobile. Instead gurgled the Google Assistant, "How can I help you?"  And thus I came to know the origin of the issue.

Well, I do not exactly belong to the species of the  social media addict. Any day any time, I prefer a book to the Wapp University. Thanks be to the Marshall McLuhan warning, I refuse to be the 'medium' of my 'message'. 

On the whole though, given the exponentially exploding digital revolution, it looked as if wor(l)ds were paralysesd. `Breaking news' tactics had to revert to old-fashioned (re)sources. The zeroes in the count of the amount M/S Zuckerberg lost were so very many that one wondered he did not the lead the leak of/in the Pandora box. 

Soon all was quiet on the wapped front, but it made me realise how `netted' we are, whether we like and/or want it or not. Indeed enter a `dragonet' phenomenon it is. A regular maze you cannot avoid even at your peril, and there is not any Ariadne's thread guiding you out of it. Mind you, I am not being an orthodox bibliophile, lost though I am to the charm and nostalgia of the genuine communication of the pre-emoji era of likes and upvoting.

My problem is with the faces that most all book on such sites so much so that it looks like a wor(l)d of mirrors masking each other endlessly. Such political correctness mistakes opinionated, half-baked propaganda of all possible varieties for the real event, the genuine feel, the intimate togetherness. Even when I use the social media minimally, often I get the feel of living in the Orwellian Ministry of Love guided by doublethink wherein one is metamorphosing weirder than Kafkaesque Samsa. Long live post truth chimeras of veracity!

pratima@Enter the net wherein half lies are truths and language is emoji's and abbeviations so as to often mean/comm(un)i(ca)t(e) meaninglessly.