If life is virtually a game, don't play it

If life is a game, play it, said the wise man of a bygone era.  He did not count for the game moving from one level to another.  Nor did he think that technology would play such havoc in our lives.  I wanted to be with it, so to speak and in my new bid of conquering or at least trying to understand complicated techniques, decided to first try and read the mode d’emploi .  I am being a sport, I say to myself as I reach the first level of the game.  All the rays were blinding at first and then complicated words were thrown at me, mocking my competence as a language teacher.  I pinched myself not to check if I was dreaming but to just keep me awake.  Let the game begin, I urged myself to read further.  I had not reached first base, when, as if to mock me, a south Indian insinuated himself into all the technical mumbo-jumbo.  The rays continued to blind me.  He said to me, `If I can be a Tamilian and a techno freak and move from to level to level and be the bad man and win the game in the end, why do you want to be this goody-goody avatar of the 60s?’  `Have a heart’ I implore. Amidst all the rays of light, thunder and lightning, I hear the voice over` Hearts are double-edged weapons.  They can give you power but they can also kill’. To be an emotional fool is bad enough, but to be a robotic fool wearing shiny silver armour can rust your intellect and reasoning ability beyond your imagination.  You will live from level to level, lose the game and lose your heart.  Your head, you have already lost when you first began to play.  The knights in their shining armour of modern times did not wait for opportunities to rescue damsels in distress.  They sat in front of screens, moving and jerking their hands about, living in a land between dream and reality, waiting to be rescued themselves.  I was probably in Level 2 or level 3 by now, of my level of confusion and boredom. Amidst all the confusion, I realise how smart we south Indians are.  We rope in the Chinese and make them sit wearing shiny armours in front of a screen so that they do not use their time doing any productive inventive remix. `Made in China’ can take a recreational pause and die in the effort.   When I reach level 3, I do not want to die like a common hero.  I would not be bored to tears either.  I will take the form of this reformed Chinese, who has come out of his stupor and go in search of the creator of this mess.  I will not have to go in search of new swear words as they will be readily available in another manual probably put together by a retired language teacher.  And when I find him, I will teach him about being a proper Tamilian.  Just having a kudumi is not enough.