Won’t they write letters
With the hands,
In pen and paper,
I think,
Just think about
Will they forget to write
As man has dumped the ink-pot and the ink pen,
Spilling ink over,
The pen leaking and the pocket
Under trouble,
Fill in the ink and write
But accept not,
The handwriting used to glitter
But now the ball point pen
Which too has the utility of its as for documents,
Nothing to fear from the raindrops
Fallen accidentally
On the write up
And the type-writer too lies it defunct for the computer
And the printer,
A novice too typing, trying to type directly,
Nothing to do on the type practice case,
I mean the keyboard
And the owner asking you not to sit
On the machine directly
But here you sit on directly to type
Whether you know or not, speed does not matter,
Just go on tapping,
Moving the fingers on the guitar like a hero
Whether the hero knows it not
But the public will be thrilled to see
The man with the stylistic guitar
Talking with the heroine
Now the term typist clerk seems to be obsolete,
Call him a computer operator or an assistant
And with the click of the mouse,
Everything is here,
I mean the machine mouse, not the house mouse,
Very naughty indeed,
Can even bite the currency notes in the money bag.
It’s true that the computer has given many facilities
But something has wasted too traditionally,
I mean the press,
The pedalled printing machine
And the composing of matters,
First proof check-up, second time verification
And the last and final proof-copy to be sent to the press.
The printing machine men, the compositors and the proof-readers
All of them turned jobless
Just like the horses and asses from duty
And the people opting for voluntary retirement,
Good and bad,
For a golden handshaking,
Willingly or unwillingly.
Similarly the telegraph posts going along the electric posts
Gave way to the underground cables and satellite connections,
The landline connections too surrendering before
The mobile handsets
But still now competitively in the market
As for post-payment of bills
And the mobiles running short of money,
First fill up talk vouchers then talk,
If you have no money in the pocket, don’t talk, no talk please,
Go back, fill in and talk,
Nothing to hear at the sales-counter
Similar the case of the cinema hall owners
With the hands on the head,
The managers unable to close the halls of their owners
And opening in their own names,
Unable to do this
Like the cleverly truck drivers
Driving to purchase new trucks
The cleaners, machine operators, curtain raisers, sweepers,
Ticket collectors, checkers and sellers,
Poster-men, announcers on rickshaws with the pullers
And the sound-men,
All jobless,
Not even in part-time jobs,
Take them for suspended not, but discharged and dismissed
Without showing any reason
Which they can understand it more
And what to say to the owners
Already in shame?
Now the modern man is a chip-man,
I mean not the stone-chip man,
Supplying stone chips for road and building construction,
A device-man,
An information technologist,
A master mind
Understanding the world electrically,
Electronically and digitally
Positioning globally,
Placing the spycam in the bathroom too.
Sit on the computer screen, read and write
Lest you have the internet access
And the link is there,
If you are in a towerless place,
Without the coverage,
Your music will be gone,
I mean the music of life
And you will need time to adjust
With the remote area manually
Digitized mails will come and go hassle-fee
Without waiting for the postman,
Asking the neighbour to take the mails
On your behalf,
Mail but think before posting
Otherwise the cybermen will come to catch you
Charging under cyber crimes
But I fear the eyesight may weaken
So be careful of,
Depend not on all of these all the times,
Suppose there is a load-shedding
During the monsoon break or in the hot summer
The power stations unable to supply power
Or the tornado has devastated the electric current posts
Then what will you do,
Think it, re-think it?

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