An elderly couple’s apartment in a bustling city falls partially dark. The refrigerator, the electric stove, the television—all silent. The culprit is likely a simple tripped circuit breaker, a minor inconvenience for anyone with a modicum of practical knowledge. Yet, when their middle-aged neighbor is asked for help, he confesses his complete ignorance. A man of perhaps forty, a product of the modern era, has never learned how to flip a switch in a fuse box. This small-scale domestic drama highlights a curious, widespread phenomenon: a growing disconnect from the basic mechanics of the physical world.
This is not an isolated incident. We are raising a generation that can navigate complex digital ecosystems with native fluency but may be baffled by the analogue world. There was a time when even those who failed physics in school knew how to jump-start a car or change a spark plug out of sheer necessity. Today, such skills are becoming niche expertise rather than common knowledge. This begs the question: in our rush to embrace the virtual, what essential, tangible competencies are we leaving behind?
The shift extends beyond practical skills and into the very fabric of our social interactions. Consider the evolution of parental discipline. A son, away from home, forgets to send the obligatory “I’ve arrived safely” message. A generation ago, his homecoming might have been met with a stern lecture or grounding—a direct, offline, and emotionally charged confrontation. Today, the modern mother’s response is a digital tap on the shoulder: a passive-aggressive emoji of a pig, sent silently across the ether. The conflict is resolved, or rather, defused, with a pictogram.
We now live in what we might call more “humane” times. The raw, often harsh, realities of face-to-face communication and discipline have been replaced by a mediated, sanitized online dialogue. The frantic search for a working payphone has been supplanted by instant messaging. While this has undoubtedly smoothed the rougher edges of human relationships, one might wonder if something has been lost in the translation—a certain immediacy, a rawness, an unfiltered human connection that technology, for all its benefits, cannot replicate.
Yet, just when one is tempted to lament a perceived decline in societal values, life presents a startling paradox. In a crowded subterranean shopping arcade, a scene unfolds that defies all stereotypes. A man, who looks like a relic from a tougher, bygone era—burly, shaven-headed, a heavy gold chain on a neckless frame—stands patiently by his elderly mother’s side. She is loudly and un-self-consciously trying on oversized, garish bras over her clothes, seeking her son’s opinion in public.
Instead of showing embarrassment or retreating into his phone, the son stands as a pillar of stoic support. He doesn’t flinch. He participates, offering quiet attention. And in his eyes, there is not a hint of irritation or machismo, but a look of such profound, unconditional love and patience that it transforms his brutish appearance entirely. It is the gentle gaze of Bambi looking at his mother. In this unexpected moment, in this unlikely place, the most traditional and powerful of human bonds is on full display.
So, what are we to make of this strange new world? It is an age of contradictions. We are more connected than ever, yet often lonelier. We possess unprecedented access to information, yet lack fundamental practical skills. Our relationships are arguably safer and more “civilized,” yet perhaps more superficial. But as the image of the devoted son proves, the core of our humanity—love, duty, and compassion—endures. It simply finds new, and often surprising, ways to reveal itself.