A Letter to 2018

Dear 2018,

I refuse to be part of the shenanigans of your time.

A virtually driven time;

Where,

A ping is a conversation starter,

And emojis are a form of expression.

Cameras are out even before you can absorb a space,

And updates on Facebook constantly keeping up to pace.

In the name of maintaining a relationship,

Comment, heart, and tag on every bf’s pic is a must,

And memes from friends a daily rut.

Family WhatsApp groups are the new dinner table conversations,

And good morning forwards a way of keeping in touch.

Phone screens and earphones just another way to avoid people,

And Ola, Uber drivers’ just chauffeurs and not a pal so much.

Attention spans lasting as the one pump chump,

Itchy fingertips and the globe of Trump.

Stories and versions each to their own,

Rarely viewed as a complete picture.

From Knowing 10 digits by heart,

To 300 plus contacts piled on the phone.

From Identifying nooks and corners of a street,

To Getting accustomed to the ‘Turn Left’ voice on the phone.

Stamps merely treasure to a philatelist, and

Laggori, Chupa Chupi, hopscotch, just intriguing words.

When Malls were a luxury and not a culture,

And Friendship meant sharing lunch boxes and not Netflix screens.

From the time of paper and pen;

A time where conversations took place in the form of words:

Both Written and Spoken.

A time where photographs could be felt,

Cherishing each moment,

Lest should they be forgotten.

From the time of efforts and greetings,

Where appreciation was a gesture,

From the heart, and

for winning hearts.

A time where home was a feeling of being together,

For,

and by each other.

Never could be,

Yours Truly,

A time not so long ago.