Kawcaw
Leave it
to Papoo
Ever since
my son pushed off to America, there is a gaping hole in our support system. My
computer and mobile are the two epicentres of the technological illiteracy that
I suffer from. When Anurag was here, he made it a point to come in the morning
to partake of the amrit dispensed by my mother. He would also drop in on
his way back from the office. I would invariably have some problem or the other
lined up for him.
I also had
the able guidance of elder grandson Achintya, who absorbed all his
encyclopaedic knowledge by playing with the system. Incidentally, he also
contributed to the overcrowding of the desktop by leaving helter skelter his
homework, mostly copied from Google. My younger grandson Amrit did not solve any
problems; he merely added to my suffering by downloading games and cluttered my
desktop with the debris of games he had won or lost.
You could
say that I had a permanent establishment of one and a half problem- solvers and
one and a half problem-creators. So my bullock cart lurched on but it did
lurch. With the exit of the brigade, I was left helpless, buffeted by the
storms and hurricanes of the turbulent digital ocean.
Initially I
took recourse to the expertise of the younger set whenever and wherever I could
catch them: my brother-in-law Ravinder Raina: his son Manik, my other
brother-in-law’s son Vinny and a host of assorted nephews, nieces and
grandchildren and visitors and acquaintances. These days I admit I have become
somewhat of a pest to the younger generation.
I am sure
that many people of my age are faced by this sort of situation. To take an
example of the kind of stuff that stymies me, my printer started showing signs
of ill health some three months ago. It wailed ever and anon, “The ink is
running low.” But when I brought it to the notice of my son, he blithely
dismissed it at first as the preliminary signal of a temperamental machine. He
took out several printouts and found them of high quality.
“You should
start worrying, Daddy, when the print quality starts to deteriorate, not
otherwise”, he advised.
I postponed
the purchase of a new cartridge, especially as refilled ones have a habit of churning
out smudged copies and new cartridges are very expensive. It was also not clear
whether only the black ink was running low or the coloured one was also showing
signs of strain. As I had not taken out manifold versions of coloured prints, I
thought the colour cartridge could wait for a little while longer.
Two days before
his departure Anurag bought two cartridges from the Canon shop in Nehru Place, just in case. He
replaced the black one and took out a print. It was first rate. He kept the
colour cartridge in stock and advised me to replace it only when the need arose.
Little did I
realise how much knowledge one must possess to replace a cartridge in a
printer. When you open the lid, both the cartridges move on a frame three times
before they come to a halt. That is the time when you remove the old cartridge
and put in the new one. While inserting the new one you must remove the plastic
tape that keeps the ink intact. I had that esoteric knowledge from an earlier
encounter and removed the tape. But when
I operated the machine, it would not yield a copy.
To cut a
long story short, I contacted Vinod Kaul, my brother-in-law’s brother-in-law,
who deals with computer accessories. Several abortive visits later, Vinod was
forced to take the copier physically to the Canon Service Centre. It turned out
that the machine was throwing tantrums because of a dust allergy. It had to be
serviced before it would come back to normal.
About 15
days ago, my wife told me in the morning, “Yesterday Mamaji had rung up around
11 p.m. Apparently your Facebook account has been hacked. Several videos
containing obscene material have been inserted on the timeline”. I rushed to my
PC and found the page full of videos. I opened one and found some obscene stuff.
(A dog and bitch copulating, to be precise, though why an act of nature between
two consenting adults should be termed obscene, I cannot fathom)
I had no
clue what one did when one’s account was hacked. I thought of who I should consult.
Suddenly I was reminded of a dialogue I had with Ajay Kaul alias Papoo who is
the second son of my co-brother-in-law Shri Avtar Krishen Kaul. He recently
took his parents first to Rameshwaram and Tirupati and then to Dwarka. A
veritable modern Shrawan Kumar. When I praised him for his attitude towards his
parents, he said, “Mausaji, don’t worry that Gugoo is no longer here. Any time
you have a problem I am at your service.”
I said, half
in fun, “You are talking like Abhinav Chaturvedi in Hum Log. He would keep on
saying , ‘leave it to Nanhe!’ ”
“Yes,
Mausaji, you can leave everything to Papoo”.
I rang up
Papoo and told him about my predicament. He asked for my Facebook password and
signed off.
After half
an hour, he and his wife Shiva came to our house. Shiva said, “We have looked
at your account. It was indeed full of muck. We have cleaned up the whole
thing. So you can go back to work as usual.”
Papoo added,
“We have coined a new password for you. It is this”. He passed on a piece of
paper. “All you have to do is to inform your friends on Facebook and apologise.
As far as Facebook security is concerned we have informed them of the attack.
Thy will keep your account under watch. Normally there should not be a repeat
attack.”
I was amazed at the speed at which the younger
generation moves. Had Papoo not been around, I would have been lying dazed, not
knowing what to do first.
“What do I
need to do?” I plaintively bleated.
“Nothing. All aspects have been taken care of.
You just sit back and relax. Leave it to Papoo, I promised you.”
When it came to transferring the Tata Sky connection
from Anurag’s name to mine, I thought it would be damned easy. Anurag rang them up several times to ensure
that the formalities were completed before he left.
His subscription was
expiring on 17th October. Out of the cleanest motives possible, the
company executive advised, “why not let the old connection complete its term
and the new connection be taken from 17th onwards?”
In between
my wife rang up several times to be assured that the transfer formalities would
be completed before 17th October. When nobody came physically, we
spent the best part of 16th trying to get hold of an executive in
the Customer Care Centre. Most of us have gone through the frustrating experience
of talking to a computer. The computer gives you ten options and you have to
choose. By the time you have tried to assimilate which option applies to you,
it is time for a replay. Finally we succeeded in getting hold of a human being,
who forwarded us to someone else, who forwarded us to someone else. Finally we
were told that a work permit had been issued and the transfer would be
physically completed next day.
We heaved a sigh
of relief. It proved to be premature, because the work permit was cancelled by
an SMS that evening. No reasons were given but we were invited to have another
round of discussions with the computer in the Customer Care centre.
That is when
I felt I had had enough.
I rang up
Papoo. He heard me out and said,” Do not worry, Mausaji. This will be sorted
out in five minutes.”
It was 8
p.m. I put my TV on. It flashed a message saying that our balance with the
company was down to Rs. 13. Soon
thereafter,our transmission ceased.
It would
have stayed that way but for Papoo. Apparently he rang up the company, found
out that our balance was exhausted, made a payment of one month’s charges
online and got the connection restored.
Does not
sound like magic. But for me it was. I could not have got through to the CCC in
the first place. Secondly, I do not know how to make an online payment. If
payment in cash had to be made, it could only be on the next day. Thirdly, I
did not know where the Tata sky office for Greater Kailash was located.
If this is
not magic, I would like to know what is. For me now, anytime I have a problem I
cannot solve myself, I have a second son. My slogan is, “Leave it to Papoo!”
Caution: Lest there is some misunderstanding,Papoo’s
services are not available to all the oldies who are confused by the Digital
Age. He is available only to his Mausaji.
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