What’s the first thing that a modern man does when he wakes up in the morning? He grabs his phone and spends the precious morning minutes bouncing around between a bunch of social media apps. Then he goes to the washroom, does the thing, brushes his teeth, and washes his face. He then goes into the kitchen to have some finely made loaves of bread with tea, burning his stomach. Having had the tea, he then enters his room, changes his at-home clothes to some fine ones, applies perfume on his body. And then he makes his way to the office or school or college — wherever he’s supposed to go. He reaches the spot, wastes a few hours, doing whatever he’s supposed to do there. From listening to talking to doing things until it’s time he finally has lunch.
After he’s had lunch, he comes back to what he’s doing until it’s time he feels he should head home. At home, he takes off his clothes, throws them off to some lonely corner of his house, and puts back the at-home clothes. Then he orders whosoever is at home to get him tea or coffee. He throws himself into his rocking chair, hands resting against his exhausted head, sinks deep into the pool of thoughts of the day gone; and ultimately, he finds himself wasting another hour or two. He talks to the family members as if some beast is after him, and has given him a certain amount of time to share certain things with the family. If he crosses the time limit, he’s doomed to God-knows-what. He quickly enters his room, sits down, makes his body stretch as far as possible, the bones in his back sending blessings his way.
He’s an another cup/mug of whatever he’s fond of: coffee, tea, hot milk, and then again he grabs his phone and wastes a great deal of time: doing nothing, just scrolling pages up and down on the internet, commenting wherever he feels his comments are needed. His eyes stay fixated on the screen. For hours on end, sitting in the wrong posture, only his fingers in motion.
Sometimes, as it happens, he cannot find his phone, and then immediately he tries to find it, as if it is something more precious than diamonds.
“Where are you?” A familiar voice comes from somewhere. Oh! It’s time he had dinner. He goes down the stairs, fills his belly to the full. Too swift in gulping down the food, he feels his abdomen will explode as a grenade.
He rushes to his room, locks his room’s door, and lies beneath the covers (in such a hurry that he forgets to switch off the lights of his room). Eyes glued to his phone, until he finally drifts off. Another day comes, and he does the same banal stuff again.
That’s the life of the modern man. He has nothing better to do. He is stuck in a rut. He does not have time to appreciate nature. He doesn’t have time to love himself, let alone others. His is busy doing the same thing he did a year ago. How better his life could be if we was supposed to do different and new things each day? How cool his life could be if he didn’t have this dreadful obsession with technology?

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Faizaan Bashir