Life on remote control

In today’s world, distances have become irrelevant as we stay connected virtually across continents. As a career IT professional, I have had a front row seat to advances in technology but I was least prepared for the requirements and demands of my elderly mother in this regard. 

My mother, as my surviving parent, moved to live with us in the United States, some 20 years ago. She has always been fascinated with computers and technology. She progressively graduated from a desktop/laptop to an iPad and iPhone. Her expectation that I would solve all her technical problems (since I worked with ‘computers’) has caused me immense embarrassment, as any IT person would know as the de facto support centre for the family.

In the initial days of her living here, I could get away with excuses like, ‘no, that feature is not supported’; or ‘it is way too expensive to call people in India frequently’. Then, as internet expanded and she found her way online, I could no longer hide. The crowning moment came when my mom, having started as a novice on WhatsApp, became an expert and then an addict.

She started living vicariously back home. She obtained, rather forced, updates from everyone she knew in India regarding what was going on in their houses and neighbourhoods. She became an active member of various ‘associations’ and ‘clubs’. She soon became the central point around which information revolved, a sort of human router, more effective than Wi-Fi devices. 

Things took a turn for the worse when she started keeping track of birthdays, anniversaries and weddings, dragging me into the quicksand of wishing and thanking people I had lost contact with long ago. A few quick, emergency trips had to be undertaken to India to attend functions that I would otherwise have been blissfully unaware of. In fact, I found myself spending as much time dealing with virtual ‘friends and relatives’ in India as I was devoting to my office work. I also witnessed the poor souls at the other end being tormented to take care of her errands ranging from payment of property taxes for her apartment to buying and sending by courier special ayurvedic oils for her joint pain.

Another dimension to this remote living was dealing with her financial matters in India. She learnt to access her bank accounts online and regularly checked transactions pertaining to her tenant’s rent payments, donations to temples and so on. An extra debit for fees or the slightest variance in the amount of quarterly interest credited would trigger a Sherlock Holmes-style investigation by yours truly to reconcile the fifty paise difference. And when she inadvertently locked herself out of the system, my day (or night, as the case maybe) would be spent on the phone with the bank’s customer service representative trying to reset her password.

At times, I seriously contemplate relocating to India just to avoid having to witness and participate in this remote controlled life.