Pigeons and the messenger birds

Living in Hyderabad, I end up sharing a good amount of my balcony with pigeons. They are very good for my ego, with their feathers getting ruffled the very instant I open the door, so much so that they take flight and flee. But seeing them jobless instigated the manager in me. How can somebody sleep all day and then occupy my balcony for free? Whoever allowed these traditional messengers to retire at birth?

Continuing along this obviously unnecessary line of thought, have you ever considered the ridiculousness of using Whatsapp? (Whatsup, wassup to the esoteric).

A: Are you on Whatsapp?

B: Of course I am . Add me.

And lo, look how close we are. Let us do everything that is becoming of a Whatsapp  relationship -Mutually add one another to random groups, recursively circulate bits of medical information that tell you why you should be dead by now, receive 400 good mornings and respond to the 400th with a Good night, mysteriously smile at the off-colour joke that just landed, wait till your eyes bleed to download the video of a cat chasing a dog, and few days later, furiously change privacy settings to make sure you are not caught online by your Whatsapp society. (Joining a group is the equivalent of Hotel California -You can never leave, unless you want to risk being called socially inept)

To make sure I am doing justice, there are professional users too. Nice, unknown messiahs who add you to a Whatsapp marketing group and tirelessly send you photos and offers of things you don’t need.

In order to maintain healthy Whatsapp relationships, one needs to periodically update the ‘DP; (ewww, what a term) with photographs of their ‘selfie-propelled new hair style’ , their dog, their cat or their child. That saves time for circulating more forwards on world history and jokes that are longer than the latest Archer bestseller.

And that, my dear, explains why it is easy to pass off looking like a clown today, than it was 10 years ago. Nobody is looking at you anyway !

How I wish to experience the romantic era of a message on a pigeon’s claws, a messenger on a horse, pen friends and mail vans. Guess our generation needs to be happy with a courier from the eKart delivery guy 😉

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