Infernal Devices

DECEMBER 2001 - In Lahore, the word was out that if you were not in your seat at the Avari Hotel by 1 in the afternoon, you wouldn’t find a seat at the Chomsky Lecture scheduled for 230 pm. As we gratefully slipped into our seats and looked behind us at the milling litterati, glitterati and gluttonrati of Lahore’s socially upward and utterly mobile classes, Dr. Snell and I both agreed that who could have ever believed dissidence could be so popular on a Saturday afternoon with the fast upon us. Well it was. Everyone who was anyone or ever had been anyone, were there, some kitted out in three piece suits, others in their afternoon blazers from Austin Reed and the women all decked out as well. Other than Prof. Chomsky, everyone had mobiles and there were despairing notices everywhere asking, requesting, pleading that these infernal devices be switched off in the auditorium. Of course no such thing happened.

While the stage belted out repeatedly for mobiles to be switched off, there were embarrassing trills that rang throughout the afternoon, the last one recorded towards the very end of the question-answer session that followed the learned professor’s discourse on the rouge state – ha, ha, not us for a change, but the US. What is with Pakistan’s urban lot and mobile phones? They are inseparable and are now to most people, what soothers were to babies and favourite soft toys and tattered blankets to those older than three years. The mobile is the new security blanket for the urban Pakis and they take them everywhere, even to the loo in case they miss a call or an SMS. They cannot venture out of their homes or offices without cradling one and they cannot entertain, do business or attend functions without the infernal thing within three inches of frantic grabbing the second it starts to go. This is not without its side effects because you can be assaulted by visions of Tom Cruise flying through the England-France tunnel on a high speed train as the mobile belts out tinny strains of the theme made famous years ago by Lalo Schifrin. Or you can hear The Flight of the Bumble Bee and curse its composer as well as the Japanese IT monster who has rendered it faithfully for the mobile to scream out, or you can have your choice of favourite and utterly asinine nursery rhymes and other equally ridiculous loony tunes. It is also just as amazing to observe who plays what kind of sound – to call it music would be an aberration. Fat, corrupt to the bones business sharks will often settle for the most basic of notes to jingle jangle from their toy, the smaller it is, the more ‘in’ it is. Other business people looking gray and well over the hill will startle everyone within striking distance as soon as some bizarre sound starts belting out. The more sophisticated users are into things that vibrate about which various blue theories abound which one will desist from airing since this is a family newspaper. As was evident at the Chomsky Lecture – and really there is no point in writing about it because the whole visit of the good professor has already received far more coverage than it should have, the wonderful man’s views and scholarship notwithstanding. Prof. Chomsky spoke brilliantly and told us all we already knew but seldom bother to read, but he was able to put a perspective to it in 60 minutes which most of us including Hameed Gul of the ISI-Taliban-Disaster fame cannot put together in 60 years. That’s what great people are able to do – put things in perspective and make disparate elements and random incidents fit into a pattern that is understandable. I doubt most of us who gathered to hear him that afternoon in Lahore or at various other functions later, had ever read a word of what he has written for fifty years. Certainly, most had not heard of him but who could ever admit that? The way the Lahorites were hanging on to every word he was saying indicated that they were fully versed with his work, compulsory bedside reading the way it came across, though you and I know that the last serious work most urbanites have waddled through might be the latest Sidney Sheldon potboiler. Prof. Chomsky while talking about the US at one point, did say that the irony of the situation would even have daunted Jonathan Swift. In retrospect, he didn’t know who all were there, but had he, the irony of the situation seeing those who made the social pilgrimage to hear him, would have surely amused him. He spoke great words of wisdom and brought across stark realities of the games powerful nations and men play, but it was his understated and very light tone of satire and ridicule that made his words even more memorable – the mobiles notwithstanding.

Technology is all very well – it jetted the good professor all the way from Boston to our neck of the woods and even the people in Karachi were able to hear him speak in Lahore and pose questions, but what earth shattering tasks were the assembled socialites of Lahore performing that they could not enter the hotel without their mobiles? Most who conversed with whoever was calling them, came up with such masterpieces as, ‘yes I am at the Avari – yes, Noam Chomsky – when ? No you take the Corolla.’ Others came up with equally priceless one liners, ‘sorry cannot talk to you right now, call me later.’ Still others who had to take the call, presented what is now a familiar farce. The monster bleeps, sings, croaks, yells, trills and the owner is galvanized like 440 volts have passed through his frame. In case of men, they locate the device then rush out in whatever direction they can decipher, leaning heavily into the device and saying something as meaningful as, ‘you are cracking up on me – hello, hello – are you there?’ The women present another dimension. When their toy goes on, they look startled and frantic at the same time – this only women can do, then they launch a frantic search for the ringing, screaming device and delve deep into the cavernous things they carry which euphemistically are called bags. Zippers slither open, long red nails rush in, grope, grab, feel as the screaming twit screams on. It is utter bedlam and once the device is firmly in hand and has been flipped open, the dialogue usually is, ‘sorry, couldn’t find the damn thing.’

No, while we all welcome the super-duper technology that can cook frozen chicken in three minutes but can kill you were you to be in there instead of the chicken and while mobility in communications is wonderful should you be robbed and have no phone to call from, unfortunately it has left etiquette and good manners far behind. Therefore, at public places bad manners abound and users of the new technology have lost whatever little manners they had before – wasn’t much in any event. Even in cinemas, where people never cease talking – amazing considering they have supposedly come to see a film, the constant noise of ringing mobiles and long conversations ensuing thereafter, is common. Worse is to walk into meetings and watch the depressing array of mobiles displayed on conference tables and desk tops and then face the mortification of their constant interruption of the meetings in progress – well not much progress. It is even more amazing that those gents who own the damn things think nothing of switching them off. This is now part of the new deal and all are expected to live by it. This may be the new age of everything and faster communications – which have isolated us even more, but it would be asking for a miracle that people learn to use their mobiles with some good manners as well. Fat hope.