The Grinch who Stole my Friends

Moving from a cocooned small town childhood and stepping into the unknowns of the hostel life was a big change for me. One of the limitations of this change was you couldn't take your family or friends along. But it was a time when we would write letters - the typical light blue, inland letter by Indian Postal Services. At a mere 35 paise, you could reach any corner of India, and if you didn't have much to say, a 15 paise post card would suffice. If you had a lot of things to say, then a Re. 1 book post; where you owned the envelope, paper, ink, and the address, the postal service gave a mug-shot of Gandhiji in return to be stuck, only right side up on the corner of the envelope, was the way!

Letters were soon replaced by e-mails and taking or changing jobs depended, for a while, on which companies in SEEPZ provided e-mail addresses to the lowly software engineers. But the likes of Shabir Bhatia and Jerry Yang and David Filo provided with the free e-mail addresses of your choice. You didn't need ink, no paper, no postal stamp. And for those who were keyboard-happy, all the space you could need. Most importantly, it crossed time zones at the speed of light - or - as fast as the servers could relay.

Yours truly once owned an e-mail address that ended with webtv.net and even a cryptic one, beginning with c9614084 (if you can interpret what that means, pause and say thanks to NCST!)

E-mail soon became passe. It was meant for official purposes and for sending design and reviewing plans and forwarding jokes. It was not meant for broadcasting. Web-log, ostentatiously shortened as "blog" was the way. And when you had enough of the blogs, there was the twitter, that though limited to 140 characters, allowed you tell the world you were constipated. And trying. And still trying. And still trying. Keeping in touch meant you commented or followed someone.

But I did not realize when subtlety hit me on the forehead. My "yours truly" implored me to get on to Orkut, and I felt younger. After all, whether-beaten older folks were not invited to the party! I logged on to Orkut once after signing on. And then, people said Orkut had lost its shine. "You should be on Facebook". "What, that might mean, parental consent - your are pushing me back in time!" - was my running joke!

When Google+ came and threatened to overtake Zuckerberg's billion plus empire, I was still stuck somewhere in the old times.

I didn't see many photos because people uploaded those on Facebook but neglected taking trouble to e-mail me. I didn't know about current happenings in my friends' lives because I didn't get to read their walls. I didn't know of the Ganapati festival in my own area because I was not on Facebook and more importantly, I didn't own a wall. But this time, multiple people called, wrote e-mails and even knocked on the doors - get on Facebook they said in unison. Some remembered me for my absence. And some wondered how I will join the college reunion if I were not to be on Facebook. This Grinch, stole all my friends just because I was stuck in the twentieth century.

So, Facebook, I acquiesce to thy power and here I come!

I am now (always) on Facebook.