Inches apart, worlds away

I recently decided to read a book lying on my table and looking accusingly at me every time I walked past. I read two whole pages before my phone buzzed. After reading the message, I resumed reading only to be interrupted again—this time by a forwarded video. By the end of the hour, I had read several messages, watched half a clip, replied politely to three people, and made no progress with the book. 

A few days earlier, I stepped into the elevator of my apartment building with three other residents. Enough time, one would think, for the usual pleasantries about the weather or the exciting finish of the previous night’s T20 match. Instead, all of us stared at glowing screens. We stood inches apart but worlds away, without exchanging a single word. It struck me then that the smartphone has quietly replaced small talk. 

Time was when a daily commute—by elevator, bus, or train—involved strangers exchanging nods and sometimes striking up conversations that unexpectedly blossomed into friendships. Today, what you see is a sea of tilted heads and illuminated screens. We are physically present but digitally elsewhere. 

Social media and mobile phones have slipped into our lives so seamlessly that we are now constantly connected, yet curiously detached. The phone has become a permanent companion—a silent third presence at every meal and meeting. This is not to deny the benefits of the digital age. Messages reach loved ones instantly. Old friendships are rekindled with a few taps. Information travels fast and sometimes does real good.  

But abundance has its downside. One message leads to another, one video to the next, until hours vanish with little to show for them. Attention spans shrink, uninterrupted thought becomes a luxury, and entire working days can be spent sifting through digital noise. In trying to stay informed and connected, we often end up disconnected from those at home—and too drained to focus on what truly matters. 

Perhaps the most visible casualty of this transformation is patience. There was a time when letters, and even emails, came with an unspoken grace period. Today, a delayed reply of an hour can prompt a gentle nudge: “Just checking if you saw my message.” 

Adding to this is the declining quality of truth online. Social media platforms are rife with hyperbolic titles that promise much and deliver little, or worse, mislead. When the sensational is prioritised over the substantial, truth itself becomes collateral damage. 

We should remember that social media has bridged distances across continents, even as it widens the gap between people sitting side by side. Reclaiming our lives does not require disconnecting entirely—but it does require looking up from our screens long enough to notice the world and one another again. 

And finally, a small confession. To get on with my work without offending well-meaning friends, I respond to most forwards with a carefully chosen emoji—a thumbs-up or a laughing face. Or a namaskar. It signals goodwill and lets me return to the task at hand.