Aajkal paper pe kaun likhta hai.......
"Aajkal paper pe kaun likhta hai?" Anirudh chuckled, watching his father, Advait, carefully jotting down notes in a small, worn notebook. Advait looked up, "Kyaa Papa", a faint smile on his face. "Beta, some habits die hard. And honestly, there's something about paper that digital just can't replace." Anirudh leaned back in his chair, scrolling through his tablet. "But Dad, it's so much faster on a laptop or phone. You can type a whole page in the time it takes you to write a few lines. Plus, it's all saved, searchable, and you don't have to worry about losing a physical notebook."
Anirudh continued, "Think about it, Dad. If I need to find something I wrote last year, a quick search on my computer pulls it up in seconds. No flipping through old diaries. And for work, sharing documents, collaborating with colleagues – it's all instant. Imagine trying to send a handwritten report across the world! Digital is just more efficient, more practical for today's world." He gestured towards his tablet, as if showcasing a marvel.
Advait gently closed his notebook. "Efficiency, yes, I agree. But practicality isn't just about speed, Anirudh. When I write on paper, my thoughts flow differently. It's like my hand connects directly to my brain. There are no notifications popping up, no emails to distract me. Just me, the pen, and the paper. It helps me think clearer, remember better. Even when I make a grocery list on paper, I actually remember what I need, even if I leave the list at home. It's a different kind of engagement."
"And the feel of it," Advait added, running his fingers over the cover of his notebook. "The texture of the paper, the slight resistance of the pen, the smell of fresh ink... it's a sensory experience. It feels more permanent, more real. A handwritten letter feels so much more personal than an email, doesn't it? It shows effort, care. Digital is convenient, yes, but sometimes, convenience comes at the cost of connection, of depth."
"Come beta, I will show you something", saying this Advait walked towards his book rack. Pulling out a few old notebooks he handed them to Anirudh, he turned a few pages and the scent of old paper hit his nostrils. There was something unique about it, much different than the smell of plastic and metal of his tablet. There were letters scribbled on the pages in ink and the hues of blue, black and red were just amazing. The difference in the color of the ink was a sight to see. The not so uniform curves of the letters were so beautiful and eye catching. Anirudh was reminded about his school days, where he used to write in his notebooks. Anirudh's fingers were caressing the wrinkles on the pages and his fingers were sensing the fine fibers of the paper.
Anirudh paused, looking at his father's thoughtful expression. "I guess I never thought about it that way, Dad. For me, it's always been about getting things done quickly. But you're right, there's a certain charm to the old ways. Maybe it's not about one being better than the other, but about what works best for different moments. Still, I'll stick to my keyboard for most things. But I'll keep your point about focus in mind. Maybe I'll try writing down my ideas on paper sometimes, just to see." Advait smiled, nodding. "Exactly. Sometimes, the old ways offer something new."
