“Six hours, Nats, the WhatsApp outage was for a mere six hours… you switched to an alternate whatchyiucallit… uhm platform… why so much outrage, and impatience?” I said ordering breakfast.

Nats looked at me with an expression/emotion I will be using a lot in our interactions—‘Angstruck’ (a combo of anger, angst and dumbstruck).

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“Men above 50 are from Venus, millenials below 25 are from Mars, you won’t get it dude… Bruh, in our world, a six-hour shutdown of social media is irreparable! Six minutes is devastating, six hours is… man, insane. A social media outage isn’t like a power cut, where you wait in the darkness for the lights to come back on. This is a lifetime for our lifeline, got it bruh? This is isolation, dude, cut off from the rest of the world… I was all alone… out of reach… no Facebook, no Instagram… man, the ultimate Chinese torture that night was spooky!”

“You could’ve just given me a shout, I’m next door or just called me.”

“No man, this isn’t about a phone call… it’s not about verbal chit-chat… we youngsters don’t talk, we type. When you’re on social media, you’re a different somebody, got it? You’re like a super hero inhabiting new worlds… This was virtual loneliness, capeesh?” Nats hissed, all the while scrolling, endlessly, while I waited for her to re-inhabit, the world we were presently in. 

“Rahul uncle,  just coz you didn’t have tech growing up, you guys are just so helpless around it… understand something bruh… when we get disconnected, we get disconnected get it? Don’t make me say it, I am an addict… okay, satisfied?”

Her designer omelette arrived, as she proceeded to shoot it, from various angles.

“Why must you shoot food, why not just eat it?” I enquired. (Eye roll + angstruck)

“This omelette goes on Insta… Rahul bruh, I’ll have you know I’m a influencer with 2.5 lakh followers, plus I’m doing a vlog?”

“Vlog… Is that a Bengali ‘blog”? (Eye roll)

“Bruh, that’s not funny, a vlog is a video blog, I share my food experiences.”

“It’s an omelette… a masala omelette, I’ll get you a bigger, tastier, cheaper one outside Churchgate station.” (Angstruck)

“You know your generation is too limited in your perspectives, this is an Anthony Bourdain, egg white Spanish omelette, it’s a work of art.” (Eye roll)

“Why does everything have to be so out there… why does every thought, every tidbit of food, have to be shared? And your selfies… against monuments, against morsels of food, and the scroll, scroll, scroll, scroll… why can’t you get your head out of that phone, look me in the eye and talk to me?”

“Bruh… just chillax… I’m multi tasking… I heard everything you said… What are you so pissed off about? Bruh… come on, spill it…this isn’t some ‘rando’ aggro!”

“It bothers me that the blue sky has no chance against a blue screen… it bothers me that you have this phone fixation and the need to look at your handset, every minute.” (Eye roll)

 “And when will you quit lecturing me, anyways… gotta ‘bounce’, bruh, ciao.”

“But you haven’t finished your designer omelette.”

“Gotta be somewhere, FOMO… fear of missing out, Rahul bruh.” (Eye roll)

“Look Nats, lemme just say, I’m FUME!”I exclaimed.

“FUME… What’s that, dude, never heard of it,” Nats asked.

“I just made it up, F-U-M-E. FUME is ‘Fed Up of Millienial Experiences’.”

“No, you aren’t, FUME Rahul bruh, you’re not FUME with me, coz IAUAUA!”

“What’s that?”

“I Accept U As U Are!” she said breezily, as she skipped away, blowing me a kiss.

Rahul daCunha is an adman, theatre director/playwright, photographer and traveller. Reach him at rahul.dacunha@mid-day.com