Teen: Mom, Wi-Fi is slow.
Me : Wi-Fi? In my time it meant waiting one week for the postman. That’s buffering, kid.
Teen: I can’t find the remote!
Me: When we were your age we were the remote. Dad would shout and we would run and change the channel.
Teen: Ugh, my phone battery is already at 10%.
Me : In our times our battery was called sunlight. If it got dark, you stopped playing.We had play time just like you have screen time.Simple.
Teen: I can’t do my zoom call without Wi-Fi.
Me: Wi-Fi? Please. In my time, our connection was yelling across the street, ‘Oye, come outside! Instant group chat.
Teen: Why do you save every plastic bag?
Me: Because in our times, we didn’t have ‘aesthetic totes.’ We had the holy plastic bag that was reused till it disintegrated.Collecting plastic bags was an emotion then.
Teen: Why do you write lists on paper when Notes app exists?
Me: Because when my paper list got lost, nobody hacked it. Try losing your phone—half the world will know your secrets.
Teen: Why do you keep newspapers?
Me: Because our recycle bin wasn’t digital—it was covering schoolbooks, cleaning windows, and packing gifts. Google that.
Teen: Why do you keep telling me not to waste electricity?
Me: Because in my time, if one fan or light ran too long, dad would turn into a CBI, auditing the electric bill like it was a national scam.
Teen: Why do you keep all these random plastic containers?
Me: Because, child, in our times every ice cream tub became a lunchbox, and every biscuit tin held sewing supplies. Recycling? We invented it.
Teen: “Mom, my AirPods are gone!”
Me: We had earphones too—in the form of neighbors blasting Bollywood songs at full volume. Shared by the entire street.
Teen: That’s noise pollution!
Me: That’s called community listening, kid.
Teen: Let’s order pizza tonight.
Me: Pizza? My mom gave us bread with ketchup, and we felt like we were dining in Italy.
Teen: That’s sad.
Me: That’s called imagination, my love.
They teach me reels, I teach them real life—and somehow, it works.
Blessmesai 