Look what Steve Jobs has done. I hope a day will come by when the the computers will ask us what we would like for dinner, figure out the recipe, go shopping, cook and serve us to our liking.
Look what Steve Jobs has done. I hope a day will come by when the the computers will ask us what we would like for dinner, figure out the recipe, go shopping, cook and serve us to our liking.
It makes me think of it like a
sportsman readying for the run, heaving his breaths in and out, his pulses on
the verge of explosion and with all his energy garnered and ready to surge. It
travelled some distance before it rose and fell, the waves of the sea. Bare chested men and bikini clad women dotted
the shores. The young ones playfully splashed, surfed, dived and did all other
things meant for young ones to too. The
parents and the toddlers walked the length of the shore and the old ones were
not to be seen. From a distance from where I sat with my daughter, wrapped in a
blanket, I could see my husband and his friend and the friend’s wife play with
the waves. Sometimes they jumped, and the waves took them higher but sometimes,
they got dunked underneath and were fed saline water of the sea.
Then I began to think about the
formation of the sea – how all the glaciers melted and ran through the gorges
and brooks into the river and into the seas and the oceans, cutting through the
rocks and the soil, gathering minerals and how it changed from one form to
another as it travelled the world. If only they could speak of the adventures enroute
to their destination, half of our imaginations would be left buried in peace. And
then I think of Al Gore and his causes and wonder if it has made so much of a
difference to the ways of the human beings and their quest for comfort. Will he delay the end of the world or were
all those dramas for nothing?
There are moments...moments when you feel the panic rising because you can’t remember them so clearly – that memories got so stuck in one place while you have been busy moving ahead with time....with age. It was only days ago when I could remember moments from the time I was only 3 – the day my younger brother was born and how I thought he was the cutest baby, the times when my elder brother bought me a pair of socks with his meagre pocket money and he was only ten years old. I remember my sister baking bread in a pot once and how the rest of scrambled through the window for a burnt bite. I remember the face of my mother when she was young and how beautiful her fingers once were, before too much hardwork for sustenance distorted them. My brothers and I were comrades, we walked long distances, swam the river in Simtokha and how we never went again after one of them almost drowned. I remember playing all the things that were meant for boys : marbles, bearings, and cycles that were driven with a handle.
One of my good friends, also my roommate when we were
studying in India, narrated the following true incidents :
There was a woman whom she, my friend,
addressed as “Aunty”, known to be a jovial and a happy go lucky soul by nature.
Once when the woman had gotten somewhat seriously ill, she had summoned her
loving husband by her deathbed and told him that she was going to be no more
and that she wished him happiness in life. She asked him to promise her one
final wish – that he would remarry and move on. The distraught husband refused
at first and showered her words of how much he loved her and that the thought
of any other woman was simply unbearable. But she would not give up and
tearfully begged him to fulfil her that one final wish. The husband, tearfully
too, had finally relented. They sobbed
and hugged and exchanged words of endearments that they would never get to
utter again.
