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Surviving a nightmarish social media blackout
Spice of Life: There were no funny videos to cheer me up, no good-night messages on WhatsApp to lull me to sleep. Without Facebook, I felt like a faceless entity
Last night, it was with shaking hands that I rebooted my mobile for the sixth time to log on to my favourite social networking sites, but they failed to open. I rushed to the tablet, and then the laptop, but things were no different there as well. Oh no! They are gone! I was filled with an inexplicable anxiety. Watching my restlessness, my husband asked, “Hey! What’s up?”
“There’s no WhatsApp!”
His inquisitive expression made it clear that he was still unaware of the catastrophe. “Facebook, WhatsApp, Instagram, and Messenger are all gone,” I said in a choking voice.
“Really! Doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s an internet issue. We’ll check it tomorrow,” came his stock response.
“No, YouTube and other websites are working. Oh my God! What will we do if these are never restored? So unfair. As if these Covid restrictions were not enough, now our only connection with the outside world is snapped. I was trying to check when our sons last checked their Facebook and WhatsApp accounts. It’s a daily ritual before going to sleep,” I said.
But he seemed to be unperturbed by the development as he is hardly into these activities; I’m the only one addicted to these sites.
With sleep miles away, and time hanging heavy on my hands, I wandered in the house as if in a daze. There were no funny videos to cheer me up, no goodnight messages on WhatsApp to lull me to sleep. Without Facebook, I felt like a faceless entity lost in a forest. What are my friends doing at this moment? Are they all in the same situation, fiddling with their mobiles in panic like me? I wondered
“Just relax. Didn’t we manage without all these things in the pre-mobile and pre-internet days? Go back in time and relive those days, it will give you some consolation,” my husband tried to alleviate my agitated mind.
Time travel, oh no! All science-fiction stories like The Time Machine and 11.22.63 flashed in my mind, where the protagonist could travel back and forth in time. I could visualise a genie, a well-attired modern version, coming out of the landline phone and asking in accented English, “Which time slot would you like to visit, madam?”
“Shut up and get lost! I’m not going anywhere with you.” I found myself muttering. Frustrated and flustered, I put the mobile on the side table and went off to sleep only to find myself stranded in a desert in my dream.
Suddenly, the mobile became alive with a familiar sound. As I picked it up, lo and behold! It was the first good morning message from a friend on WhatsApp! And the morning never felt so good.
Am I narrating a fictional story? You know I’m not.
njkaur1953@gmail.com
The writer is a Patiala-based retired associate professor in English
