Reflections: Say hello to my little friend

Al Pacino, as drug lord Tony Montana, screamed those immortal words in the film Scarface, shooting from the hip while introducing his Kalashnikov. I am, however, talking about a gadget less devastating but equally potent. We are wedded, sacred vows and mangal sutra, to our smartphones. The sooner we face up to this grim reality, the better it will be for our sanity. It is almost axiomatic that the more you hear someone rain curses on his mobile, the more inextricably attached he is to the wretched instrument. When I say ‘he’, I mean ‘she’ as well, with knobs on. It is the classical love-hate relationship, permanently joined at the hip. A couple of decades ago, the mobile phone was a status symbol. Owning one meant you were a class apart. How times have changed. Today, those who belong to the truly creamy layer, the upper crust as it were, pride themselves on not owning one of these devices. Even if they actually had one, they will try to hide the fact, or ask their personal assistants to handle the calls. It’s a kind of inverted snobbery turned on its head.

As we scan the daily barrage of advertisements for smartphones, and the segment is amongst the biggest marketing spenders across categories, we see that mobile telephony is the last thing the advertiser and the consumer are concerned with. The in-built camera takes pride of place for the showboating to follow. The number of lenses, megapixels, frames per second for videos, size of the screen for better viewing, improved quality of selfies, iris scanners, ease of operation, editing suites – my friend, we are talking about a little still and video genie here. All this helps you flaunt not only your own lensman skills, you can enjoy high quality movies and videos on YouTube, Netflix and Amazon. Incidentally, you can also make and receive calls.

Brands like the iPhone have developed entire advertising campaigns around amateur photography competitions. Gigantic billboards featuring blow ups of dramatic pictures evidently taken by iPhone users, are dotted all over cities, and the images are jaw dropping. Why wouldn’t an amateur photographer not want to run to the nearest store and buy himself one of these techno wonders? Begs the question as to how all this is affecting the conventional camera business. How badly have the likes of Nikon and Canon been affected, particularly at the lower end of the camera business? Honestly, I don’t know when I last used my Minolta, which is doubtless gathering mould in the inner recesses of some musty cupboard.

Listening to music is the other big attraction on these state-of-the-art mobiles. Enhanced quality of sound, free downloads and streaming, and all manner of recording and storing facilities make the contemporary smartphone an inexhaustible library of music. If you have a powerful pair of headphones, today’s mobile is the 21st century reincarnation of the Jurassic Sony Walkman.

Smartphones are also a fashion statement. Android or iPhone, the product designs will leave you drooling. Seduction through sexy, contemporary looks is what’s drawing the younger set to this buzzing category. Whether you can make and receive calls with clarity is the last talking point when it comes to product claims of smartphones. In any case, quality of service is not in the hands of mobile phone manufacturers. That is something for the service providers to worry about.

All that’s fine and dandy, but it must be said that, for all its many conveniences, the mobile phone is also a curse. The instrument has completely changed people’s lives and their personalities. On a normal day, this is how I engage with my smartphone from the time I wake up till I turn in for the night, and I can be characterised as a ‘light user’.

At precisely 6 am, my morning alarm wakes me up to a pleasant tune called ‘Rustling in the wind’. Various notification lights in different colours keep blinking, indicating the arrival of new emails, tweets and text messages. Someone or the other, usually from the family circle residing in India or anywhere in the world, will call and courteously inquire if I was sleeping. Well, not any more, mate. From 9 am, the real fun starts.

Competing insurance companies will remind me that my car insurance is due for renewal and they can offer the best deals. Charity organisations of varying hues will plead over my mobile to dig into my not very deep pockets. A young lady speaking on behalf of my car servicing garage, urges me to rate their performance on a scale of 1 to 10. Someone from a bank other than my own will call to offer home loans at friendly interest rates. And on one memorable occasion in London, I received a call from a dating service! I’ve grown weary of asking, ‘How did they get my number?’ My unfailing response is cold, at times bordering on hostile. Not that that deters them.

However, you need to be careful before climbing on to your high horse. On one occasion a well-spoken lady called on a Sunday afternoon when I was catching up with my forty winks, and I cut her dead in mid-stride, assuming it to be a sales call. She called back and crooned icily, ‘That’s fine Sir, I was calling to inform you that your 5-year fixed deposit with the bank at 10.5% cumulative interest has matured, and if you don’t give any fresh instruction, it will automatically be renewed at a reduced 7% interest’. I had to eat humble pie and profusely apologise. The smartphone. Is it a boon or a bane? Go figure.