It's quite amazing how dependent we are on technology. The other day, the internet was down at the office, making life quite miserable for those working on a deadline. My emails were not coming through, I couldn't download pictures, and I couldn't use Google to check facts. Only the spinning icon seemed to be working.
The office was in chaos and the IT people were tearing their hair out, trying to fix the problem. I threw up my hands in despair, shut down my computer and headed home, glad that my work could wait till the next day.
Only a few days ago, my daughter's mobile phone also stopped working. She took it to the friendly neighbourhood fix shop who said he had to remove all the applications and reload everything again. It would take a while, he said, so we should go and have dinner first.
As soon as we had placed our orders, my daughter began to fidget. "What am I going to do!" she wailed. "I'm lost without my phone!"
"We could... talk," I ventured.
She glared at me as if I were making fun of her crisis. But when she realised that Mum wasn't being sarcastic, she calmed down, and slowly we actually began a conversation that continued through dinner. It was a rare pleasure indeed.
Normally our dinner conversations are rather one-sided, with eyes alternating between the phone screen or the dinner plate. There is now very little eye contact with others. Even in the car, I make sure to say whatever it is at the beginning of the trip. That's because as soon as we're cruising, she will bring out her earphones and be lost in her own little world of Lana Del Ray or Maroon 5.
This time, however, we actually got through dinner without having to resort to mobile phones to while away our time. It was quite an achievement! The art of conversation is still alive!
We have been spoilt by technology. Everything is at your fingertips. To do research, you no longer have to go to the library. Kids today have never heard of the Dewey Decimal System. I used to hang out at some of Bangkok's libraries as a student. These included the one at Chulalongkorn University's Art Faculty Building, the AUA library and the British Council library. I'd find the books I wanted, select a nice table to sit at and read and work. The hushed silence inside -- almost sacred in its inviolable sanctity -- was a reassuring change from the chaos and bustle outside.
Today many of these places of study are all gone, to be replaced by coffee shop franchises that offer free Wi-Fi instead of books. They serve the same purpose, I suppose. You could download the entire Shakespeare's Macbeth as well as study guides on your smartphone as you sip your Frappuccino (skimmed milk, no cream). Other necessary study items include a personal coffee mug, a soft blanket and a good camera for selfies (though a quality smartphone will do). The silence is replaced by piped music and the hum of coffee machines, though I suppose these could also be meditative once you get your mind in the right attitude.
In the days before personal computers, notebooks and tablets, we actually submitted homework written using pen and ink (if you were the artsy type), or ballpoint pens. My father gave me a gold Cross ballpoint pen when I got into university; that was the ultimate present for a university student in those days. Today some kids will settle for nothing less than a supercar.
For my master's degree, I used a portable typewriter to do all my homework assignments and also my dissertation. There was never a problem of a system failure; the worst that could happen was that ink dried up and you'd have to change the ribbon.
Life was a lot simpler in those day, and I wouldn't mind going back to the slow life sometimes (as long as I still have Google and Facebook).
Usnisa Sukhsvasti is the features editor of the Bangkok Post.