People often call ours the luckiest generation. Surrounded by development and technology, life today seems faster, easier, and more exciting. From smartphones to AI, from touch screens to instant communication, science has changed the way we live. During, COVID-19 19 pandemic, technology helped millions stay connected, study online, and save lives. From agriculture to medicine to communication, discoveries have undoubtedly made our lives more comfortable.
But beneath this blanket of comfort lies another truth: comfort is not the same as happiness. My own illusion of being the ” luckiest “ generation broke when I listened to stories from my father’s childhood. As a child of the 21st century, I often compared his experiences with mine and realized how much we have missed. Our generation has comforts, but our parents had memories - something far more precious.
I still remember the smile on my father’s face when he described his childhood days. He struggled refilling the ink in his ink pen, how it stained his fingers, and often left marks on his white shirt. His childhood included responsibilities – helping in the fields, feeding cattle, and harvesting crops. Yet, it was filled with joy. During summer nights, he and his friends didn’t plan movie outings; instead, they sat together, shelling corn, sharing stories, and helping each other with work. Their life was simple, but it was rich with bonds, laughter, and memories.
Now, close your eyes and try to recall your childhood. I am sure you will find some memories, but now sit with your parents or an elderly person and ask them about their childhood. You will instantly notice the difference. Their stories are rooted in togetherness. For Baby Boomers, joint families were common. With many members under one roof, privacy was scarce, but community was abundant. Meals were shared, festivals celebrated collectively, and evenings spent listening to All India Radio or gathering around the single neighbourhood television. Shows like Ramanayan or Mahabharata on Doordarshan were not just programs; they were cultural events that united entire streets. Today, nuclear families dominate, and urban lifestyles isolate us further. We watch Netflix in different rooms, play video games alone, and celebrate festivals on video calls. Technology has connected us to the world but, ironically, distanced us from each other.
Even parenting has changed. Our parents, when we were infants, would sing lullabies, mimic animal sounds, and tell us bedtime stories to feed us and put us to sleep. These small acts were more than routines – they became memories filled with love and warmth. In contrast, many Gen Z parents today simply hand over a phone or tablet to their child so they do not get disturbed while working. It saves them time and trouble in the moment, but it silently creates emotional and psychological distance. Gadgets may keep children quiet, but they also rob them of the closeness, affection, and shared stories that once defined parent–child bonds. Child psychologists have raised alarms about this growing dependence on gadgets in early childhood.
Studies from the American Academy of Pediatrics suggest that overexposure to screens in the first few years of life can delay language development, reduce attention span, and even hinder emotional bonding with parents. Instead of learning through facial expressions, touch, and tone of voice, children learn to interact with glowing screens. In India, too, pediatric experts have observed that gadget use among toddlers has led to what some call “virtual autism “ – a condition where children show reduced social interaction and speech delays because they spend more time with devices than with people. What once was a bedtime lullaby is now a YouTube cartoon, and what once was a father’s story is now a mobile game. Gadgets may keep children quiet, but they also rob them of the closeness, affection, and shared stories that once defined parent–child bonds.
This shift becomes clearer when we look at earlier generations. Baby Boomers and even Gen X children in India grew up in a culture of oral storytelling and folk traditions. Grandparents would narrate epics like The Ramayana and The Mahabharata around a lantern, and mothers would sing traditional lullabies passed down through generations. These practices not only entertained but also built moral values, a sense of identity, and emotional intimacy. I still remember sitting with my grandmothers as she hummed a song – her voice shaky, but full of love. No gadget can replace that. The difference between grandmother’s folk songs and children’s lullaby playlist on Spotify is not technological – it is psychological, cultural, and deeply human.
Even history reflects how technology shaped human bonds. During the Indian Emergency (1975 – 1977), when communication lines were restricted, letters and telegrams became lifelines. Every word carried weight because it required effort. Compare that with our world of instant messaging, where conversations vanish into the void of’ seen” ticks and forgotten replies. The 1980s saw the rise of cassette tapes, which introduced a culture of music swapping and mixtapes. Creating a playlist for a friend took time, and that time gave the gesture meaning. Now, music streams endlessly on Spotify or YouTube, but often without leaving a lasting memory. The patience of waiting for a song on the radio has been replaced with the anxiety of skipping tracks after a few seconds. This is what psychologists describe as the “ paradox of choice” – having too many options often reduces happiness instead of increasing it.
Our childhoods are fast disappearing into data and devices, leaving behind very few memories worth retelling. Our parents lived without electricity at times, but they had candles, lanterns, and a chain of memories to light up their lives. Imagine us without electricity or internet for even a day – it feels horrible. Life seems happy and exciting with iPhones, but deep down, it lacks the warmth of shared moments. Technology has given us comfort, but it has quietly stolen the small joys that our parents cherished. This loss is not just emotional – it is psychological. Studies show rising rates of nomophobia ( the fear of being without one’s phone ) among today’s youth. We scroll endlessly, chasing dopamine hits from likes and notifications, yet struggle to find joy in small moments. The Baby Boomers and Gen X, without smartphones, found happiness in ordinary activities - flying kites, storytelling, or just sitting under the stars.
So, are we really the luckiest generation? Perhaps not. Technology has given us knowledge, but at the cost of shared childhoods. Our parents’ lives may have lacked modern luxuries, but they were rich with simplicity, togetherness, and unforgettable memories. Maybe true luck lies not in having the latest iPhone, but in having stories worth telling.