Romance with Robots? Sorry, I Prefer Human Touch 🤖💔👫

I was standing at the bus stop, fully glued to my phone, waiting for my sleeper bus to arrive—no stress, no fear of missing it, thanks to live bus tracking right on my mobile screen — bus number, driver’s number, live location, even the poor guy’s blood group (okay, maybe not, but we are not yet there). The live tracking app showed it was 0 meters away — I looked up, and boom, bus was there. 

But I couldn’t help smiling at a memory from a decade ago—back when travel meant playing "Bus Varuma? Varadha? 🙉" (When’s the bus going to arrive?) at dusty roadside stops. No app, no GPS, just pure faith, sweaty anxiety, and endless staring down the road in hope.

While waiting, you would glance at another traveler. Few minutes later, a smile gets exchanged. Then comes the classic icebreaker: “Enga Porigna? Where are you going?” If they happened to say the same destination—BANG, instant connection. We would swap numbers, talk non-stop like old friends, and ride along as if we would know each other for years.

As I settled into my window seat on the bus, I couldn’t help but wonder—why did the internet take over everything? 

Yes, Internet is amazing. It makes life smooth, efficient, and a little too convenient. But honestly, Dont we miss connection?

The past few months, all I have been hearing is “AI, AI, AI...Aeeeeeeeee!” At first, I was curious, but as I learned more about it and the things it could change, I couldn’t help but feel less excited and more...WORRIED. 

I miss power cuts. Yes, you read that right. Those unexpected blackouts were childhood festivals. My sister and I would have an Olympic-level fight over who got to light the candle and then we would sit outside under the stars, pretending we were deep philosophers while actually dong nothing. Now? Even if the power dares to blink, Wi-Fi backup kicks in faster than our old inverter and everyone stays glued to their screens like AI-powered zombies.

A decade ago, I went to a waterfall and camped next to a railway line—no network, no Instagram tags, no influencer reels shouting “Hidden Gem!” We fell asleep to the soothing sounds of the train passing by and woke up to the calming roar of the waterfall. And guess what? It was pure bliss. Maybe because I hadn’t seen it a thousand times already on my screen.

Fast forward ten years, and I returned to the same place, this time with my husband. But his excitement? Barely there. Why? Because his Instagram reels had a better view, and we were more focused on taking selfies and Googling "best spots nearby" than actually soaking in the moment. The world has changed what once felt magical now seems like just another photo

That’s when it hit me, will my son ever feel that kind of joy? The kind that comes from discovering something with wide eyes instead of Screens? Or will he just pull up a 4D version of a forest and call it a day outing?

My dad used to say that he never actually saw my mother before marriage. My sister, back in the days when a one-minute phone call cost 3.50 rupees, just to talk to her fiancé. And those calls? They were short, but full of excitement. They had that raw energy, that anticipation.

When my husband and I were in a relationship, we didn’t have WhatsApp video calls or constant chats. There was a real thrill in seeing each other after weeks of waiting, a kind of pure excitement that’s hard to explain.

But now, with AI and all the technology we have, I sometimes wonder—will my son and the next generation ever experience that raw, unfiltered excitement? Or will it all just be a blur of notifications and screens?

I’m not anti-AI. I’m grateful for it. But in our rush to optimize every second, are we forgetting how fun it was to waste time? To get lost? To be surprised?

Maybe the real AI challenge isn’t about jobs or robots taking over. Maybe it’s about making sure we don’t forget how to be human.

So light a candle, lose the map, take a detour. And if you don’t have a power cut, just switch off the router. 

The Instant Delivery : Convenience or Addiction?

I was cooking. Yes, Really I was. Then I realized—no ginger!

Back in the day, my mom had a method to tackle this kitchen crisis situation. She would hand me 1 rupee 25 paise—1 rupee for ginger and 25 paise as a bribe for some chocolate. I would go to the local “Annachi shop” (a small neighborhood store), highly motivated by the sweet reward. 

Of course, the journey involved more than just buying ginger. I washed my face, combed my hair—after all, I must look presentable while stepping out. Along the way, I exchanged greetings with at least two aunties. 

Fast forward to today. I don’t have the privilege of requesting my kid to run, he would just roll his eyes and say, “Boomer mother.” Well, I would have stepped out myself? But instead of grabbing my keys, I reached for my smartphone.

Four different instant delivery apps stared back at me—Instamart, Blinkit, Zepto, bigbasket you name it. Some promised delivery in 10 minutes, others in 5. Before I could even place my order, the doorbell rang. My ginger was already here.  

Wow! I felt like I had discovered a life savior. One tap, and everything was at my doorstep. And just like that, ordering became an addiction.

Morning coffee? Order milk.

Feeling sugary? Order biscuits.

Delivery fees? No problem—just add three more useless things to avoid it!

And now going to the store became just like a Goa trip—always planned, never executed. 

Years later, I released the impact of instant delivery – You open the app for something, and next thing you know, your cart has chips, ice cream, and a buy-one-get-one-free packet of something you didn’t even know existed. Oops.

Today,  I looked at my phone, then at my own laziness, and made a bold decision—NO MORE INSTANT DELIVERY.

Why? Because it doesn’t just bring convenience. It brings addiction. It makes you lazy. It makes you spend on things you don’t really need.

So, Step out, walk to the store, hold that purchase in your hands, and come back home with a sense of accomplishment. Trust me, it feels better than tapping a screen.