With the advancement of technology and also the arrival of handsome pay packages, I badly miss the “joy of inconvenience”.
Now, the vendor delivers vegetables for the whole week at our doorstep every Saturday and takes away with him a five-hundred-rupee note! With this, I am deprived of those evening walks to buy vegetables. Moreover, I have lost my bargaining skills that I was once proud of.
The word convenience has crept into almost every part of our lives. Going to a new place was once a really exciting task. There were long discussions among family members about the distance, time and mode of transport to be adopted (based on cost considerations). With the one-touch cab facility and Google Maps, life has become much easier — and less challenging.
I miss asking for the address at a fork in the road, taking a wrong turn and then having arguments with the taxi driver.
With the arrival in a big way of “brands”, I now typically associate quality with the price tag. Malls have replaced memories of visiting the narrow lanes of the old city area, often spending a significant part of the day to get the “best and the cheapest” product from the wholesale market, long queues for the most delicious chaat and pani puri, and then returning home with the maximum number of bags one can hold. There was immense joy in becoming physically tired doing all this, and that provided a sense of achievement.
The way functions are organised in a family has also changed considerably. Marriage preparations are no longer a hectic affair. The caterers organise the food, decoration and stage arrangements. All your guests have a comfortable stay in separate rooms and room service looks after individual needs. The standards of professionalism do not leave room for any complaints (that we are often fond of making). All you need is the credit card once the event is over.
Earlier, managing a marriage event was entrusted to the “young brigade” of the family. There was a wide range of tasks to be performed: packing gifts, holding a long chat session with the tent wallah, providing ideas for decoration, procuring raw materials for the cook, arranging for relatives’ stay at the neighbours’ place, ensuring bed tea for all (with and without sugar), and so on. In the end you may get a pat or a kick. Whatever be the case, you get to learn lessons of management that no B-school can possibly impart.
There is another “inconvenience, close to my heart”. I now have a post-paid connection, and the inconvenience of ending up with a ‘no-balance’ situation at midnight has vanished. When it was prepaid, I had to rush outside for a recharge. Requesting the only shopkeeper left and that too with half shutter down, to make a recharge was an uphill task, performed regularly if not daily.
The constraints also inculcated some good habits. I was an early-riser, to fill all the buckets and drums when there was no 24-hour water supply. So I used the resource judiciously. Convenience has made me lazy. Also, routine power cuts facilitated a visit to the nearest park regularly where I could share a laugh with the people who lived in the colony. Now with inverters and generators enabling virtually un-interrupted power, I remain in “solitude”.
In the inconvenient world of “convenience”, I can still find solace from the Railways, though. Long passenger waiting lists, the uncertainty over getting a Tatkal ticket, and unexpected delays in the running of trains have kept the scope for inconvenience fairly intact.
Finally, I would say I have thoroughly enjoyed the “inconvenience” I encountered, and want it back in my life, though in small doses.
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