"THE CURIOUS CASE OF A MISSING BUTTON"
“Mummy…Daddy…” Pasand screamed at the top of her lungs.
“Mummy…Daddy…” Pasand screamed at the top of her lungs.
The house turned chaotic as every member ran pell-mell to her room.
“What happened to my baby? My baby. Baby.” Veena, the mother.
“Pasand, dear, are you okay?” Balu, the father.
“Whatsapp…I mean, what’s up, sis?” Vijay, the younger sibling.
Pasand was a complete mess. She had just woken up and straight away sat in front of her laptop.
“Have you brushed, sweetheart?” The father.
“Are you nuts? It is only eleven o’clock. Let her be.” The doting mother.
“Oh, come on Pasi, what’s it now?” The exasperated brother.
Pasand screamed, “Don’t call me that. It means hunger in Tamil. Why do you always taunt that I am fat?”
“Cool it, sis, cool it.”
“VJ, leave my sweetheart alone.” The mother screamed.
“Will you all shut up for a sec?” The father intervened. “Pasand, what happened, dear?”
A pregnant pause for a few moments.
“Look.” Pasand pointed towards the bright laptop screen.
***
The scene in the police station was one of unadulterated chaos, not because of a VIP visit or an attack on the station but because of a deluge of complaints of epidemic proportions.
“You heard it right, Inspector; the LIKE button is missing since morning.”
The station Writer, Ms. Akshara, rushed into Inspector Rambo’s room.
“Sir, sir, I am going mad…”
“Present continuous!” Inspector Rambo wondered ‘I thought you were always…’
“…there are hundreds of complaints…”
Inspector Rambo interrupted her.
“Akshara, I am having one here myself.”
“What do I do, Inspector?”
“What do you do? What kind of a question is it? Of course, you’ll register the complaints. Hey, Tetley, where is my tea?”
“Coming, sir,” Constable Tetley shouted from outside the chamber.
Akshara continued with her sob story.
“Sir, there are hundreds!”
“Yes, Akshara, I know. Register all of them. Now, please go and let me do my work. Ask Ms. Dinker Bell to see me. You were saying, sir?”
An exasperated Balu continued, “Inspector Rambo, do something about it immediately. Otherwise, my daughter may do something silly and dangerous.”
Constable Ms. Dinker Bell entered.
“Bell, what happened to the call I asked for?”
“Inspector, Commissioner’s office phone is not available. It has been busy for over three hours.”
“What?”
“Yes, sir, but I called my friend in the office. She says the office is flooded by people with similar complaints; all VIPs.”
“Is there an epidemic of thefts of LIKE button?”
***
The next day…
Newspapers were screaming through their front-page headlines.
“The curious case of missing LIKE button”, “Where LIKE has gone”, “LIKE it or nought”, “Ass, you LIKE it”.
“It is reported that the LIKE button has disappeared from social media sites, throwing the netizens into panic and manic depression. Reports are pouring in from all over the world about the missing LIKE button. Watch this space for updates.”
***
“You ‘unfriended’ me on Facebook, Katy!” Priya asked.
“Yeah.” A tersely succinct reply from Kathleen.
“But why? I am your best friend!”
“You were,” Kathleen corrected.
“Were! Aren’t I anymore?”
“No.”
“Why? What have I done, Katy?” Priya was in tears.
“Did you see my latest post on FB?”
“What post?” In between hiccups.
“See, that’s why. Anyways, I changed my profile picture.”
“Yes, I saw.”
“But, you didn’t LIKE it.” Angry sarcasm oozed from every word.
“Oh, my God! That’s why you…”
“Yes,” Kathleen said with finality.
***
“What’s so urgent, Shilpa? You wanted me to leave all work and come here at once!” Raj asked.
“Screw your work. Screw your job. Here, take this,” Shilpa said angrily. She removed the single-diamond, golden engagement ring from her finger and threw it at Raj.
Stunned Raj: “What! What are you doing, dear?”
Petulant Shilpa: “I am breaking our engagement.”
Shocked Raj: “What?”
Angry Shilpa: “Your vocabulary is pathetically limited to ‘what’!”
Apologetic Raj: “Is that why you are breaking our engagement?”
Scornful Shilpa: “No, moron. That is the least of the problems.”
Stuttering Raj: “Th…Then, why, dear?”
Authoritative Shilpa: “Oh cut out the ‘dear’ stuff. Didn’t you see my picture I uploaded on FB?”
Uncertain Raj: “In which you are wearing your new ghaghra-choli? That’s awesome, dear.”
Screaming Shilpa: “Yeah, that’s it. You didn’t even LIKE it or comment on it, you ba**ard. Good bye.”
I-don’t-know-what-to-say Raj: “Sh…Sh…Shilpaaaaaa…”
***
“The whole world knows about your promotion but not me,” Rajesh grumbled.
“But…but I tweeted, Rajesh,” Iyer replied.
“You tweeted about such an important thing! Why didn’t you call me?”
“I…I…I tweeted; thought that was sufficient and everyone would know.”
“You know you are a complete as**ole.”
“I am sorry, Rajesh. It won’t happen again.”
“Go f**k yourself. Good bye.”
***
“How many invitation cards to be printed, son?” Rangachari inquired.
“Fifty would do, daddy.” Srikanth replied.
“Fifty! Did you say fifty?”
“Yes, daddy.”
“We have so many relatives and friends, son. We have to invite them all. After all, it is your wedding, son.”
“Sure, daddy, but we need not send cards to everyone.”
“Then, how…”
“I’ll upload a scanned image of the card on Facebook, Twitter, about.me, Google+, WhatsApp, and other websites. All our contacts will see. Simple.”
Rangachari was speechless.
***
Several weeks later…
There was utter chaos in the newsrooms of all forms of media – newspapers, TV and Radio. Information, nay, a deluge of information was pouring in torrents from the world over. In short, the missing LIKE button from social media sites had been found guilty of:
- Breaking friendships.
- Breaking relationships between persons and between nations.
- Causing disorientation and manic depression in people, especially youth.
- Crumbling of mutual trust.
- Erosion of family values, and
- Every other social problem.
Psychoanalysts were having a field day with long queues of patients outside their clinics.
Pharmacists were laughing their way to the bank.
Pharmaceutical companies put their workers on overtime for meeting the unprecedented demand for anti-depressants and other drugs prescribed by psychoanalysts.
Heavy absenteeism was being reported from offices, factories, and all other establishments across the country. Consequently, business houses were taking huge losses.
Parents, unable to cope with their children’s depression, were trashing all Internet devices – Wi-Fi, modems, and “smart” mobile phones.
Broadband connection sales hit an all-time low and ISPs began downsizing staff.
Cyber crimes dramatically abated as cyber criminals returned to conventional hands-on crime methods.
There was utter social chaos.
***
Renowned psychologist, Prof. Gyan Banto Sen was addressing a gathering in the auditorium of a five-star hotel.
“Howevermuch I disLIKE it, friends, I must say, ‘I told you so’. For years, I have been foretelling that this situation would arise; finally, it has.
“You see, human relations, social intercourse, familial foundations have all been reduced to a few buttons on social media sites – ‘like’, ‘share’, ‘reply’, ‘smiley’, and so on. Even giving comments on posts has become so burdensome that people just press the like button and are done with it.
“The hyphenated word ‘letter-writing’ elicits a wonderstruck expression ‘What is it?’ I am all for fun; have no doubts about that, but not at the cost of the fundamental building blocks of our society. English grammar has become redundant, no, an irritant nowadays. Convey the message… somehow…anyhow. That’s the in-thing. People have become islands. Social intercourse has become outdated.
“In the end, I’d like to narrate a small anecdote, which may be insignificant but is relevant in the present-day social scenario. It goes like this.
“Decades ago, my friend (I’ll keep him anonymous) got married. He and his bride were working at different places. The bride’s parents unwittingly (they were unaware of the flying temper of my friend’s father) suggested that the bride be allowed to continue working staying at her father’s place. My friend’s father flew off the handle and retorted, ‘How will the two set up a family and beget children? By writing postcards?’
“Well, friends, that’s the crux of the matter, whether we LIKE it or not.”
***
Although the Prime Minister, the Home Minister and the Defence Minister (all the cabinet Ministers, as a matter of fact) were repeatedly assuring the nation that there was no need to panic and that the situation was under control, sources informed that the Government itself was at its wits end and was seized of the matter. It wrote strong letters to the President of the USA, the Prime Minister of the UK, the Prime Minister of Russia, and other world leaders.
This aggravated the already seemingly insurmountable woes of the world leaders!
***
“This is part of our neighbour’s proxy war; a new strategy to break our social order and undermine our nation’s willpower. We won’t let it happen,” thundered the Home Minister.
***
“The lesson you learnt from Afghanistan isn’t sufficient or what? This is another of your gimmicks to divert attention from your internal problems; another desperate attempt to spread Communism.” The President of USA was on the hotline with the Russian Prime Minister.
“No, no, no…Meester Precedent, don’t geeve me that capitaleestic boolshit again. Set theengs right at once. Oar else…” the Russian Prime Minister paused threateningly.
“What? What are you gonna do?”
“Huh…weel move thee UN Secureety Counseal.”
“Ha, ha, ha…I like that one…ha, ha, ha”
***
Beijing moved some of its fleets to the Indian Ocean, ‘to counter imperialistic threats to its sovereignty from the United States and its allies such as South Korea and India.’
***
India lodged a strong protest with the Security Council while unknown sources (really, nobody knows their affiliations) from within Pakistan informed that they stand by Beijing against the hawkish, war-mongering India. The sources went on to add, ‘the present crisis cannot be solved unless the Kashmir problem is resolved to Pakistan’s satisfaction through meaningful multilateral dialogue among USA, UK, China and Pakistan. If willing, India can also participate in the dialogue.’
***
Every country was at a high degree of war-preparedness.
***
Kutuhal, a precocious pre-teenager, scratched his head. He suddenly became aware of what he had done, what he had wreaked on the seemingly peaceful world.
“Dad, I must confess something,” he said to his father, Mr. Anu Shasan.
Lifting his worried head from the newspaper, Anu Shasan looked quizzically at his son.
“Dad…”
“I know I am your dad. Go on.”
“The problem we are facing…”
“Is it only one?”
“Dad…”
“Okay, go on.” He folded the newspaper neatly and placed it on the dining table.
“The missing LIKE button…?”
“What of it?”
“I did it…”
“What do you mean? You created it?”
“Yes…I mean no…”
“Can you be more specific?”
“I didn’t create the LIKE button on social media sites.”
“Then, what did you do?”
A short pause.
“I deleted it from the sites…”
A resounding slap on Kutuhal’s cheek, imaginary, not the cheek, the slap. Kutuhal lightly rubbed his cheek and thanked his stars.
“What?!”
“…accidentally…”
“Do you realise what havoc you have created?” Anu Shasan paused. “What else are you doing, sitting for hours in front of the computer? Tell me.”
“Dad…dad…I am into hacking; just started to learn.”
“What?!”
“I was writing some code the other day. When I tested it on a website, the LIKE button disappeared suddenly. It was not my intention, some error in the code. It affected several other sites, too. I realised it only after some time.” Kutuhal paused. “I am sorry, dad.”
Mr. Anu Shasan was lost in thought for a few minutes.
“Can you correct it?”
“I can try, dad. It is basically reversing the action…I hope.”
“Do it…before anyone zeroes in on you. You could be in big trouble, you idiot.”
Epilogue
“Mummy…Daddy…” Pasand screamed at the top of her lungs.
The house turned chaotic as every member ran pell-mell to her room.
“What happened to my baby? My baby. Baby.” Veena, the mother.
“Pasand, dear, Are you okay?” Balu, the father.
“Whatsapp…I mean, what’s up AGAIN, sis?” Vijay, the younger sibling.
Pasand was sitting in front of her laptop.
“Pasand, what happened, dear?” The father asked.
“Look.” Pasand pointed towards the bright laptop screen.
The LIKE button sat smugly and snugly on the screen.
Pasand’s face lit up LIKE (a preposition) a thousand-watt bulb.
Her parents and brother LIKEd (a verb) it.
AUTHOR’S REMARKS
I feel sad and helplessly watch the erosion of human and familial relations and value systems, the complete dependence on social media sites for social intercourse.
Can we place the blame on the sites at all? When a crime, say murder, occurs, punishment is imposed on the murderer not on the weapon. So it is in the case of social media sites. If the value systems of humans are eroded, WE are responsible for it, not the social media sites. Utilised responsibly, the sites are an excellent medium for quick and broad communication. Otherwise?
Well, you won’t LIKE the answer.
This is but an insignificant attempt of mine to look at the sad scenario in a humorous angle.
P.S.: Please read (OMG, such an onerous task! Aren’t there any shortcuts?), comment, share, and LIKE the story if you like it.
OoOoO
SOURCE BY-SHYAM SUNDAR BULUSU
PUBLISHED BY-OUEHELLO.COM
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