Last week, I travelled back to a time when the Internet was something that you needed a computer to access, and social media was used to define sites such as Myspace and Orkut, where teenagers hung out to spy on their crushes. Google could be accessed only on desktop computers, and the smartest things phones did was make calls and send messages. WhatsApp was three years into the future and if you told someone that you could hail a cab with a mere swipe on your phone, you would have been laughed out of the room. No, dear reader, I did not chance upon a time machine or lose my smartphone. Instead, I decided to log out of all social media in an attempt at living life off the grid.
But why?
It all started with a brief chat at work with a colleague on mobile technology and its overreaching presence in our lives. As we talked, I began to think of things I could do, if I was not enslaved to a screen, for everything from talking to friends, ordering food and groceries, to paying bills, commuting to work and much more. Maybe I could try and pick up a new language, learn to ride a geared vehicle without putting myself and innocent pedestrians in mortal peril, and maybe even complete a book or two in quick time.
It was with much trepidation that I began this tech detox, uninstalling WhatsApp, Facebook, Twitter and Instagram from my phone, followed by YouTube, Netflix, Hotstar and Amazon Prime. The Gmail app was also switched off, followed by Swiggy, Zomato, Uber and Ola.
I felt like a character in a Hindi movie, left behind in a new town, bereft of any means of survival, surrounded by alien beings, addicted to devices they carried in their pockets. But I felt a sense of victory at my impending success in completing a week without these tools. How hard could it be?
Reality struck the very next day, as I woke up to absolute silence. There was no cacophony of notifications from a stream of apps, no ‘good morning’ messages from multiple WhatsApp groups, no mail lists or random news snippets. I went for a run sans the fitness tracker and phone, grinning at fellow runners still enslaved by new-age technology. Back home, as I watched TV, my mind began coming to terms with this new reality, as my finger kept endlessly swiping the blank phone screen. With no Facebook or Twitter feed to outrage about, I found time to read a book before rushing to work.
As the bus crawled through traffic in Bengaluru, the temptation to check Google Maps for an indication of a traffic snarl ahead, intensified. All I could do, however, was to continue staring at my phone like a drug addict, looking for his next hit of social media. Much of the free time that day was spent moping about the lack of access to the functional Internet. On the way back home in the metro, I felt a little like the protagonist in Trapped , being the only person in the compartment not swiping on their phone.
There was an upside, however. Without the arm of technology wresting my attention away, I noticed more of the sights and sounds of the city. The big takeaway was that my phone battery barely went below the 75% mark at the end of the day.
A downward spiral
By the second day of the detox, I was dangerously close to caving into pressure. I opened Google Play and stared at the WhatsApp icon wistfully for nearly 15 minutes, before closing it. I felt lost, especially when I listened to friends and colleagues discuss the most recent viral sensation and the ongoing season of Better Call Saul on Netflix. However, I managed to catch an excellent documentary about crocodiles on the National Geographic Channel, cooked up a mean mixed vegetable curry and read a book in a single sitting. Without the constant noise of social media platforms, I discovered a sense of freedom and peace. Now, there was no need to spend time thinking of a rebuttal to a political post on Facebook, and not handling the constant flurry of random videos and pictures on WhatsApp brought a certain happiness with it.
Just when I started to feel positive about the detox, disaster struck, as we ran out of water. With the option of ordering food online ruled out, I spent time manually calling up bewildered restaurateurs and asking if they deliver food. Cursing the convenience of food delivery startups, I gave up and headed out to a small restaurant nearby to grab a meal, not missing the urge to check Zomato for reviews or see if the restaurant has plated the food well enough for a perfect Instagram picture.
Back home, I came to the conclusion that even watching a football game was a more enjoyable experience, sans the pressure to keep scrolling through my Twitter and Facebook feeds, or to make an update that would be both funny and philosophical in one shot; a sure-fire way to get more likes and a dopamine high.
A power cut late at night—presumably brought about by Bengaluru’s pre-monsoon showers—tempts me to check out the electricity company’s Twitter feed, but I choose not to yield to temptation and outrage about it offline. Baby steps.
Coming to terms
In the week I was not online, I read and completed three books, watched a few football and cricket matches in their entirety and spent considerably less time thinking about anyone else’s opinion on life or the political system. My phone’s battery life shot up to two days, and my feeling of sadness about the inability to watch the last couple of episodes of a popular drama series is somewhat mitigated by the fact that I talked to more people this week than in the course of last month. In short, I gave up my dependence on my little handheld overlord and survived. Now, it’s time to go back to the connected life, but with more perspective. Cue uplifting music.
