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(Alexa is a voice-operated intelligent personal assistant. My first encounter with her was at my daughter’s house in the US about four years ago. This poem was written then. Last Father's Day, my daughter sent me one of Alexa’s later versions. I am now reliving the nostalgia here by quoting the old poem.)
A pulsating presence, rotund
On our kitchen countertop
At the beck and call of my grandson
Just three years old
Who commands
From his dining chair
“Alexa, sing nursery rhymes”
And there she goes
With Old MacDonald
Wheels On The Bus
Hickory, Dickory, Dock
Then his dad demands
What is the product
Of a five digit number
Multiplied by another as long
Alexa reels out in a second
The correct response
Explains relativity
For another query
When mom intrudes
Asking for the latest news
The world explodes
Like a cloud-burst
Acts of terrorism
Hurricanes, political schisms
The all-knowing Alexa
In supreme control
Of a household
And all its info demands
Untiring, without fatigue
Be it music, politics
History, sciences or geography
Anthropological miscellany
How hunted the Australopithecus
Or how tall was Homo erectus
And then at midnight
Me, the grand-dad
Tip-toes for a glass of water
And there she is all ears
Ever alert for another poser
With her unmistakable pulse
Like the neck throb of a lucid lizard
Awaiting yet another command
An empathy overpowers me
The communion that underscores
Intelligence across the universe
When I whisper her name
She lights up like a flying saucer
About to take off
Dousing my diabetic thirst
With a mouthful of cold water
I mutter in her ever-attentive ears
“Alexa stop, sleep in peace, dear”
She whimpers
And then she is gone
Into the oblivion of a much-needed slumber
What does it matter
If she is artificial, inert
When she sure is a presence
Like everything made to be
For intelligent eyes to see
Like the silent mounts, trees
And the sands that crowd
Our thorny paths
How beautiful would it be
To communicate with them all
Knowing one is never alone at all!
Alexa, you have come to stay
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