Social media; a fake and confused social existence?

WhatsApp and other similar platforms have heated up the social scene, everywhere. I thought that it was the beginning of a new world order. I thought wrong.  What is really happening is more harmful than good. Masses are not using these apps to communicate like they normally would -- like people. They are playing up or hiding behind a new persona of being more informed, well read, deeply religious and with a [often morbid and borrowed] sense of humour.  There is not a conversation going on, but it is more like a shouting match. Everyone is receiving and sending all sorts of things every day. It is not a zero sum game. It is taking away the innocence of an entire generation that is growing up on it. In fact, it is leading us down the path of self destruct.

First it was telephone and telegraph. Regular postal delivery services always co-existed and was essential communication for every individual, government and business. Next telex. It was always in corporate and government communication. Then the advent of facsimile on the back of telephony remained popular for quite some time. Regular postal service started to lose prominence. Soon Internet hit the world and email was the communication of choice. All of the above didn't do much harm.

Next came smart phone and email has since been relegated for mostly receiving junk -- for the common man that is. A new wave of applications empowered the users of these phones. WhatsApp and other similar apps started to appear on those. All hell has broken lose.

American Presidency is an apt example of what went wrong with social media. It is a Twitter presidency and I want you to be the judge of how good or bad it has been thus far.

As for me, I have lost a lot of good people, to death, Facebook and now to the likes of WhatsApp. I am going back in time. In this age of smart phones making fool of smart people all of the time, I am perhaps a not-so-smart fool.

When memories are everything.

“Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal," someone who read my blog sent this. He said it was on an Irish headstone. 
Just as I thought I was getting back to normal after my recent trip to my nephew and his family in Kuala Lumpur, memories of my beloved niece came back to remind me yet again of my, sorry, our loss. What followed was more sobbing and tears as I steered my way entirely on muscle memory to my place of work. I don't know how I got there. Now this is the new normal for me. Something I am learning to live with. If she wishes to revisit me like this every single day, so be it. I will always be in good company.
I will take you back a few days when I visited Ghazi at his home in KL. Just as I walked through the door, he opened up his arms and we hugged each other and both of us couldn't hold back our tears. We talked about her also during dinner. Kiran had set the table for dinner -- for one, just me. They had their dinner since I got there way past midnight.  Ghazi wanted me to take the guest room, but I insisted that I want to be by myself. As I left Ghazi and made my way home, I was wondering if I helped unload his grief or did he mine. 
Their two kids are my darling so I looked forward to spend time with them the next day over breakfast. I suggested we drive to Rajoo for a brunch and we did. It was all well. In fact it was a terrific meal. I felt cheerful enough to shave and put on a new tee shirt, and face. I even switched my WhatsApp account for a while to send a message to everyone who knew what I have been going through that I have healed. I was wrong. I want her memories and I cherish those. My grief is very dear to me. 
Let it be.