The Age of Zip, Zap, Zoom
Rekha Jad rekhajad1969@gmail.com Every hour or so, the phone pings: “You have a delivery awaiting approval for entry.” Different parcels for different members of the family. The doorbell follows, and oversized brown bags keep piling up — silent monuments...
Rekha Jad
rekhajad1969@gmail.com
Every hour or so, the phone pings: “You have a delivery awaiting approval for entry.” Different parcels for different members of the family. The doorbell follows, and oversized brown bags keep piling up — silent monuments to our growing addiction to convenience. This, I suspect, is the story unfolding in countless households today.
The delivery boys of Zepto, Blinkit, Zomato, Amazon and many more have their pedal to the metal, racing against time, zipping through traffic almost at the speed of light, huffing and puffing in the sweltering heat like modern-day genies at our doorstep.
There are days when one feels out of sorts, worn to a frazzle, not quite in one’s element. But no worries. If the mood to cook has vanished, we are handed complete carte blanche over the menu. Any meal, at any hour, can be summoned at the drop of a hat — a free rein over our cravings, just a click away. I have never had a complacent bone in my body, yet the lure of instant, mouth-watering deliveries is slowly turning me into a couch potato. Even humble khichdi or curd rice can now be spread before you without lifting a finger, let alone aromatic feasts fit for royalty. The untouched, unstained kitchen counter stares at you in disbelief…
The convenience borders on magical. Halfway through a bath, if the shampoo runs dry or the shower gel gives up, there is no need for alarm. By the time you finish brushing your teeth, the genie is at your door with a fragrant replacement.
The same goes for the kitchen. Once, while preparing dal, I discovered my favourite spice — heeng — had run out. One quick click, and by the time the onions and tomatoes were chopped, its pungent aroma was already wafting at my doorstep.
This culture of instant shopping, carried out while lazing in our comfort cocoons, absent-mindedly scrolling and tinkering with our phones, has made us vulnerable to impulsive buying. We often order things we neither lack nor need. Digital payments only make it easier — money tucked away in GPay has an uncanny way of vanishing before one even notices.
And if an unannounced guest drops by for an impromptu chat, gone are the days of panic and scrambling. In the blink of an eye, Blinkit arrives bearing a cornucopia of snacks and beverages, extending a warm, effortless welcome.
But every convenience comes with a cost.
With this culture of instant home delivery, we often pay the piper — through unwanted purchases, wasted resources, and increasingly sedentary lifestyles. The old-fashioned ritual of stepping into a shop, scrutinising quality, and haggling for the best bargain is fast becoming antiquated. One cannot help but wonder what toll this has taken on the humble sabziwala, the neighbourhood kiryana store, and local vendors whose businesses are steadily shrinking.
We live in an age of shortcuts, cutting corners, instant gratification, and endless convenience. Slouch, scroll, and order — that seems to be the new drill.
And so, whether we like it or not, we remain beholden to the myriad ordering apps on our phones, living this curious new life of zip, zap, zoom
Convenience is a blessing, undoubtedly, but in this race of instant gratification, we must pause to ask.. at what cost?
