Tech-challenged (noun). The Oxford Dictionary's cheaper version (Oxfhord) defines it as someone who is unable to surf porn on the Internet. I find this description a tad vague.
The right meaning of tech-challenged should be someone who is unable to surf porn on the Internet, but lands up paying for it. And this answer is not based solely on research conducted in the assembly in Karnataka.
Let me now fit myself into this capacity. Tech and I are like the ISIS and Mother Teresa; completely different costumes and a slightly different agenda. I never took to technology, right from the outset. Neither did my father, which may, in slightly Freudian terms, explain this whole picture.
When I was 10, ours was the only house on the block to own a video player. The problem was that we were also the only house without a TV. Dad wanted us to get the hang of the player before investing in a TV. Toaster grills were our other nightmare.
Even today, in a five-star hotel's breakfast buffet section, I fling my toast on to the grill from 14-feet away. If I miss, I do the chivalrous thing by blaming it on the oldest family member in the room. Our fear, in fact, was such that when NIIT opened near our house, we almost changed residence.
Cyrus Broacha. (Anshuman Poyrekar/HT)
Now, if we move to the present day, you can see that we are like the Communist Party trying to survive in today's political ocean. The tech onslaught is a blitzkrieg of epic proportions.
The male Broachas are completely unprepared, and react like Bangladeshi batsmen on a traditional Perth wicket, that is, by hiding. The iPad, the iPod, the Microsoft this, the Microsoft that, the Sony this, the (stolen) Sony that... and now, this Apple tsunami - in the shape of a watch. Except, wait, it's not a watch? Okay, it is a watch, but it's also not.
In lingerie terms, it's the same as me buying underwear, which actually turns out to have trousers and a shirt attached to it, and shoes, socks, a cap, a golf membership, and a 20% discount at PVR Cinemas. Now, that's a terrible set of consequences for someone who just needs basic underwear and, honestly, I can't play golf.
So, my message to the people at Apple (and I know there are people there, not just machines running things) is what will we do with a watch that reads my pulse, sets the dinner table for me, walks my dog and parks my car?
If you take away these fundamental jobs from me, my life is meaningless and empty. My weekends would end in a couple of minutes. So, please, please, can we go back 50 years to when The Beatles produced music on LP records and the three Ws (Frank Worrell, Clyde Walcott and Sir Everton Weekes) were busy breaking all batting records in a five-day cricket Test match? And when a watch just told the time, and people sent telegrams, and Communism was alive and well? Can we, please? And, bear in mind, I haven't even mentioned beef!
Cyrus Broacha has a podcast, Cyrus Says, but he has no clue how to log into it.