There is a set of topics from which you can’t escape. They are all over the place. While you gasp for breath in a rush-hour train or run to catch an evening bus, or push the trolley at a shopping mall suddenly somebody brings up the talk about uploading, downloading, updating, forwarding, blocking, sending, posting, SMS-ing, phishing, walls, firewalls, and gateways.
That sounds like old-time radio reporting of military activities from across a border. Often topics veer into more tangible objects called gadgets. They include anything digital, purchased on the internet, or from glass and steel shopee (not shop).
No doubt we are talking about boys and girls. Let’s start with boys.
Oh sorry—not boys but boyz. Having their spiked hair glistened with chemical waxes, they pace up and down the street corridors with earphones. They appear like they are the new age connoisseurs of good music: yes, avatars with refined ears tuned for fine music; if they ever play it aloud, that would be the end of the world.
What music are they listening to? May be the expletives of Fifty-five or Sixty Cents, or gyrating antics of Madonna, or who else, Psy’s Gangnam style cries—(better say the Santosh Pandit of Korea or vice versa?) They walk around in low-waist trousers, flaunting their skinny figures.
Look at their faces, what you see is the shabby look of street urchins. Don’t blame them. That is the style. They work hard to get the look. That is the look of a haggard man, travelling in dusty country, with no hope, but full of malignant distaste for the world. Some of them look very resigned, lost, with no emotions on their faces. Their faces lack all smile-lines or talk-lines. Don’t they talk or smile? They are like mannequins in the textile shops. Yes, just plastic figures to display dress.
When they walk, they walk with a swing as if they are just out of a boat ride. When they ride they ride at lightning speed on their Spiderman bikes with the silencer never silencing the motor-shriek. They read, if they have time off from gadgets, what you know as the ‘how-to’ books: yes, how to become a good manager in ten days, how to explore your mental powers, how to earn more, how to learn and earn, and so on.
Now look at girls today, sorry, girlz. ‘Figure hugging’ defines them. Let’s use another popular term “express yourself”. They don’t give a damn about anything. Thinking is the least of the mental operations many love not to do. What matters is how to become a female mannequin. Displaying themselves in the weirdest way is the point.
After their cooing talk about SMS-ing, facebook, sharing, liking and chatting, the most tangible thing they love is accessories and apparels. They google like somebody who has dived into a frothy river and is searching for the best accessories available at online.
Accessories? Don’t misunderstand this big word for some spare parts of a car company. They include all those sticky chemical waxes and dusty powders that they daub and paste to glitter like the glitterati. They talk like any citified, coke-drinking, pizza-eating girl in the movies talk. They talk with shrugs, throwing hands and fingers about as if playing an invisible guitar. They give extra weight to vowels making them sound like consonants, while poor consonants become meeker, as their tongues glide over them. Languages are at their mercy.
Some of them read!!! Yes they do read big-time literature they buy from the supermarket. Or they purchase it, they say, during their online shopping extravaganza. At the train compartment or hangout places they sit bent over the book, with earphones crammed in their ears. They read the likes of—She too had a love story, Why they hated suddenly, and Simply Divorce (all these books have no connection with living or dead authors).
After each chapter they comment on facebook, “dear chums, I am finishing fifth chapter of, you know, She too had a love story. Oh you must read it, what a love story yaar, what suspense in the middle!!!Oh, I can’t believe.”
Somebody puts a Like, and the book-reading girl later counts the total ‘Likes’, and exuberantly bursts with the book in her hand, “Oh 200 likes today, big thing,” and then she group-SMSes to all, “ U know I go8 200 likes 2dai”