Oblivion is bliss
On a rather sunny evening, a friend and I decided upon an impromptu shopping trip after completing our to-do lists at work—I made satisfactory ticks against pointers on my notepad, while she checked-off imaginary boxes in her mind that reminded her of real tasks. We stood beneath the concrete building, waiting for our Uber, using it as an opportunity to eavesdrop on conversations happening around us, and the lack thereof. While noticing people smile at their Instagram feeds and hearing of a manager’s ‘rude email’ to the team, our ride arrived, filling the ten-minute journey with the latest songs. As we stepped out, the bhaiya bid us goodbye with a gentle reminder to rate him well, to which we responded with a thank you, a warm smile, and assurance (we ended up giving him 5 stars, for we liked the music).
We hit our usual stores, picked out clothes according to our body types, and stood in the queue for the trial room. Upon my chance, I stepped inside the cubicle only to be greeted by scattered hangers on the floor. Instinct instructed me to call someone to pick them up, but better judgment nudged me to do the same myself. The previous occupant assumed that another would clear the mess left behind, and I was carrying the same expectation forward. I neatly hung the inconveniences on the wall, in an attempt to dodge double standards.
After purchasing select items backed by reasoning based on utility, we headed towards a restaurant that equally appealed to us both, with the intention of eating a healthy meal that ended up being pasta. In between our discussion on books and boys, I glanced over to the table next to us, where a child’s face shone with the light of a phone screen. His eyes were diligently fixed on the characters before him, oblivious to the living beings next to him. Not only did technology prevent him from exercising his manners when the waiter brought the food, but he also missed out on the joy of hearing an adult conversation that would have familiarised him with family politics. I was forced to leave my judgment when my friend thrust her iPhone in my face to show me a meme she found hilarious (ah, the irony).
Standing beneath the concrete building, shopping bags in hand, waiting for our separate Ubers to arrive, we simultaneously discussed the details (well, people) of our day and planned the next. On the way back home, while my parents were tracking every inch of distance covered, I went back to interrupted thoughts. I wondered, aren’t we all, in some way or the other, unaware of the remains we leave behind, to the presence of humans by our side? Doesn’t our virtual involvement exceed convenience and eat into our quality time? Aren’t we all, knowingly and unknowingly, oblivious to our environment more often than not?
My contemplation was cut short when Google Maps announced, “You have arrived.” In accord with the norm, the bhaiya wished me goodnight with a gentle reminder to rate him well, to which I responded with a thank you, a warm smile, and assurance (and 5 stars).