What’s Up?- It’s Whatsap

All through my life, I have been used to starting my day, palms open and saying the age old Mantra:

Karaagre Vasate Lakshmi

Karamoole Saraswati

 Karamadhyetu Govinda

Prabhate Kara Darshanam.

 Not always so now. With sheepish frankness I have to admit that very often nowadays, my morning does indeed begin with a look at my palms, but focused on the object nestled safely within them: that little oblong bedfellow that follows me like a shadow, and christened ‘Samsung’. Or rather, focused on what lies within the small confines of its glassy countenance as I try to open the video whose arrival has just been announced by a dignified tinkle of a  ‘Temple bell’- my ring tone. I wish I could say that it was only the younger generation that had been attacked. But that would not be true.  Whatsap fever has taken us by storm, young and not so young alike. Whatsap groups have united humankind as never before and I just love being a QMC Chatterbox, Illuminati, an Ignited Mind or an Esprit Indomptable!

On that historical day, earth shaking events were to take place: a volcano had erupted somewhere in the world,  a violent storm had caused havoc somewhere else.  But nothing could equal the magnitude of the personal crisis I was to go through. It was 5.30 am. I gently pulled towards me the Old Faithful that was called a mobile phone, but in effect, was my alter ego,’ to check the time’ I assured myself. I tried to de-blur my eyes to fix them on that magical screen. And there it was, catastrophe staring me in the face: an intimation- my Whatsap chat history had been deleted. Would I like to restore it? If so, could I kindly press ‘Yes’?

Chat history deleted? Did I really want it restored? Could I kindly press ‘Yes’?    Only a state of extreme hysteria could have prompted me to commit the ultimate blasphemy by crying out : Karagre Vasathe Display Profile, Karamuley Status, Karamadhye tu Group Chats…As I feverishly tried to operate the miniscule key pad, every microsecond was an agonizing wait for the ultimate verdict. I just had to restore Whatsap to health and, in consequence, my own.

After what seemed like a journey through a catacomb, I was done with the instructions. Now came the … momentous moment. Would I recover my lost treasures? Would I get back my peace of mind? I held my breath, said a small prayer (plain bribery).  I clicked on my friend Poorna’s contact icon.  Her profile photo was very much there, and so was her ‘last seen’ details. Just when I was about to celebrate, I scrolled down, to be greeted by a silent stretch of empty green. Mission Failed. Oh Cruelty, thy name is Lost Chats!

So that was that…. Good bye text messages, good bye contact details of people who weren’t in my contact lists given to me by people who were in my contact list. Good bye D.K.Pattamal’s mind blowing rendition of Mamava Pattabhirama. Good bye sound words of inspiration and advice, mini moral science classes which, very often, used to escape my eyes in favour of the funnier snippets. Now that I didn’t have them anymore, these took on the status of Teachings from Heaven itself.

My state of mind could best be portrayed by a colon- closed bracket emoticon. I forgot the well chosen words about time wasting on Whatsap that I had exchanged with Poorna only the previous night- in a Whatsap chat of course.  It seemed to me that my very being had come to a grinding halt.  Not wasting time was going to hurt badly.

I may be in deep waters, but still, life had to go on and there was a family to cook for. Three blows of the cooker whistle stretched out into 6 distracted ones when   suddenly, the Thought occurred. Let me seek help. Help from ‘Help’ I mean. Re-enter Hope as I picked up my well used Android, dull and scratched by dropping and trying to remove stains of idli batter (I can perform the supreme multitasking act of stirring, using the mixie and transferring ground flour into a container all the while talking on my phone) from my window sill  (could I call this sill a throne?). 

Whatsapping and Facebooking are pieces of cake to handle provided things are smooth. But when there is a problem, Troubleshooting itself requires troubleshooting, at least for me. Still, the stakes were high.  I had to retrieve my Whatsap to its normal dignity. With fumbling fingers, I tried to follow the instructions in the FAQ section.The answers appeared before me in a barrage of information. Much head hitting and perspiring later, I understood slowly that I was asked to de-install and then re-install Whatsap. The frenzied session that followed resembled what must have been the scene minutes before a rocket launch at Sriharikota. Click on this, then on that… Much of it was re -clicking and reviewing though, mainly because my Old faithful was really old, and obese too: only a major dietary schedule could lighten the burden of the laden storage space in her long suffering silicon chip. Deleting old files was something my busy schedule (yet never too busy to go into Whatsap) had not permitted me to do. Somewhere in the course of these frenetic steps, a sharp smell vaguely registered   and I was  aware that the lady’s fingers were getting overdone, soon they would resemble half burnt beedies. But then, a meal was only a meal but Whatsap was a window to the whole, wide world. Perhaps I could take a picture of the charred remains and forward it to my contacts as the remnants of a recently erupted volcano. But then, I remembered: I was deinstalling whatsap! I felt a poignant lump in my throat, like the man who thinks of his hometown 5000 miles away. Oh my God, not to be on whatsap? Was it retribution for some past sin?

Yet every river reaches the sea. A few clicks and OK’s later, oh joy!Whatsap reinstalled! I was back!   Congratulations to myself! My celebration consisted of adding two cups of water to reinstall sambar status to the semi solid mixture in front of me that had been silently and sullenly brewing the past half hour, unheeded and untended.

It remained to open my account and admire the restored chats that the troubleshooting menu had reassured me would be retrieved. As a first, I chose the contact of a certain Ganesh (may the Lord with whom he shares his name remove all obstacles in the course of my noble attempts), I opened it… The same green stretch of gloriously unlettered background welcomed me. I went into a group contact dating back to two years: I was informed that I had just been added.

The situation took some digesting.  I was now in the status of ‘New Whatsapper’ It hurt. Before I could reach for my smelling salts, I suddenly I saw the innumerable pros in the midst of the cons- memories from an old Whatsap inspirational message. At least my contact list was intact. The images were still stored in the gallery. I was back on Whatsap. And what’s more, I had got wiser in the two hours gone by.

Much wiser. Now, when I need to store something important, I do it with a more primitive set of instruments. This set has its disadvantages, it’s slower and more cumbersome. But we can’t deny that it is the most reliable.  And most definitely can’t be deleted by technology. That is what is known as paper and pen.

Moreover, it was raining ‘Temple Bells’. As I got ready to attack all the messages that were assuaging me, my heart felt considerably lighter. So what if the old messages had gone away? Many new ones were waiting to use up my phone’s already depleted storage. Long live Whatsap!

God’s in heaven and all’s right with this world….

By

 Varalakshmi Anandkumar