In October 2024, I was traveling through Assam by
road. Just after crossing the Patgaon Bazaar in Kokrajhar district, we had to
stop for five minutes at a toll plaza due to a disruption in the automated toll
payment system. A line of dozens of vehicles had formed. This incident was a
stark reminder that although reliance on technological advancement is
convenient, it is not without its perils. We had previously encountered a
similar situation at a lodge in Siliguri. I attempted to pay the bill using Google
Pay, but the bank’s network was slow and I hadn’t carried any cash. A crisis
emerged—fortunately, my travel companion Nandlal had the foresight to carry ten
thousand rupees in cash.
The real consequences of such dependence surface
during times of unrest and protests when governments shut down the internet. In
such cases, even with money in the bank, a person can’t buy a single biscuit.
As I write this memoir, the people of Manipur are facing this very crisis.
Over-reliance on technology is steadily displacing
our natural human abilities and efficiency. As soon as technology fails, it
seems as if we have regressed to primitive times. Our lives are being dominated
by technological overlords. The age of imperialism enforced through weapons has
faded into history; now, the world has willingly fallen under the reign of technological
imperialism. No matter how much pride we take in our religion and culture, even
their expressions have become dependent on technology. The ancient source of
light—the oil lamp—has lost its significance in the presence of LED
bulbs. Temples,
mosques, and churches are all now subservient to technology. The human
mind, empowered by technology, now wishes to decorate, modify, and manage the
divine according to its will, rather than molding itself in alignment with the
divine.
Despite all the
lofty spiritual talk, the greatness and popularity of so-called enlightened,
renowned saints, sages, mahants, maulvis, preachers, spiritual gurus, and
self-proclaimed public leaders all rest on technological platforms. As a
result, even the slightest hiccup in nature—just one breath gone awry—can bring
all our technological progress crashing down. If floods come, power supply
fails. And if the electricity fails, then what remains of our ‘development’ and
technology?
There’s something
deeply unsettling about how we've cut down mountains, dammed rivers, and
destroyed forests—rendering the Earth uninhabitable. Yet we are not content
with that—we now seek to ruin other planets and satellites too, and then
celebrate this suicide of the cosmos as a triumph.
Today, three
months after that journey, the heart of India’s development—Delhi—is reeling
from the swelling of the Yamuna River. All our pride in progress and
convenience has been washed away.
Returning to our
journey: after a brief wait, the toll system began functioning again, and
vehicles started moving forward. Our vehicle also proceeded. Once again, we
were greeted by scenes of forests, villages, fields, grazing pastures, and
cottage-like homes—places where, even today, bullocks still plough some fields,
paddy is being threshed, and heaps of hay are stacked in courtyards. These
self-reliant villages, though not untouched by development, maintain a balance.
Electricity is available, there are small tractors, new paddy varieties, spray
machines, and mobile phones—but chemical fertilizer dependency is minimal.
Thus, a natural
alternative to technological development has been preserved. Human freedom to live remains intact—something we
have lost in places like UP, Haryana, Punjab, Maharashtra, Mumbai, and Delhi.
There, farmers
are forced to take loans from banks to buy fertilizers, seeds, medicines,
tractors, and other equipment from corporate companies. Though the crops look
promising, any misfortune—flood, drought, hailstorm, or strong winds—can
destroy the yield to the point where not even basic sustenance is possible, let
alone repayment of bank loans. Ultimately, we see tragic news of farmers
consuming poisonous pesticides. One could argue that agriculture in these
"developed" regions too has fallen under corporate domination, using technological development as a guise.
The farmer becomes a tenant, laboring while the profits go to corporations.
Hence, we
urgently need to redefine development. We must become vigilant of the looming threats to nature, the
environment, the earth, air, and water. I am not suggesting that we stop using
machines altogether. I am only advocating that we also preserve a parallel system alongside technology—one that protects human
skills and the art of living in times of crisis.
We must make
efforts to protect space from pollution. We must save the Earth and its air and
water. Otherwise, under the guise of development, we are marching steadily
toward a dread.
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