
Once upon a time, humans had a curious habit – they used their brains. They solved problems, wrestled with ideas, made mistakes, corrected them and occasionally produced something called original thought. It was exhausting, inefficient and gloriously human.
Thankfully, we have moved on. First came the calculator, rescuing us from the burden of remembering multiplication tables. Then mobile phones saved us from memorising phone numbers – or directions – or, eventually, conversations. The abacus retired with dignity. Memory packed its bags quietly. Thinking began working part-time.
And now, artificial intelligence (AI) has arrived to complete the unfinished job.
Homework? Generated.
Assignments? Summarised.
Presentations? Designed.
Emails? Drafted.
Ideas? Suggested.
Opinions? Optional.
Schoolchildren no longer struggle with essays – they simply request them. College students no longer take notes – knowledge arrives in neatly compressed files, pre-digested and downloadable. Why strain the wrist when the screen scrolls effortlessly? Why think when the machine already has?
The human brain, once an overworked organ, is finally getting the retirement it deserves.
Even traditions that once simmered slowly are now pressure-cooked by technology. Young girls no longer sit beside their grandmothers learning the secrets of a perfect dish – they turn to YouTube and emerge culinary experts in under 10 minutes, complete with background music and step-by-step captions. Family recipes once passed down through generations are now just a quick tap away.
And why stop at cooking? People are increasingly consulting AI to locate the best haleem in town. Taste buds, it seems, now come with search engines. Soon, we may not even chew without first checking reviews. After all, why trust your tongue when data analytics can digest faster?
And if you think this technological wizardry stops at food and homework, think again – or rather, don’t. Long after the legendary singer Mohammed Rafi left this world, “new” songs in his voice are now doing the rounds. Death, it appears, is no longer a professional limitation. AI can resurrect voices, recreate styles and remix memories. Nostalgia is now downloadable. Immortality has entered beta testing.
Surely AI’s brilliance knows no bounds. For it, the sky is not the limit – merely the starting point. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of human intelligence, which seems to be quietly slipping into early retirement.
Observe any public place. Heads bowed, eyes fixed, thumbs dancing – not in creativity, but in consultation. Every question outsourced. Every doubt delegated. Every spark of curiosity promptly handed over to an algorithm for “efficient processing.”
We used to say, “Let me think.” Now we say, “Let me check.”
The difference is subtle – and devastating.
The tragedy is not that AI can write poems, solve equations or design systems. The tragedy is that we are delighted to let it do so instead of us. Creativity, once born from struggle, is now assembled from prompts. Imagination, once a wild frontier, now arrives with formatting options.
Why wrestle with an idea for hours when a polished answer appears in seconds? Why experience the joy of discovery when instant explanation is available? Why develop a skill when simulation will do? “Computers have lots of memory but no imagination,” once observed Bill Gates. Ironically, we now have the opposite problem – machines with expanding capabilities and humans with shrinking curiosity. Technology was meant to assist life. Instead, it has quietly replaced it.
Of course, we are told this is progress. Governments use AI. Corporations invest billions. Entire economies are being redesigned around “intelligent systems.” Efficiency is the new virtue. Speed is the new wisdom. Convenience is the new intelligence.
And thinking? Thinking is now a premium feature – rarely used, occasionally remembered, mostly unnecessary. At this rate, the Gen Z will possess extraordinary brains – beautifully maintained, rarely exercised. Like gym memberships purchased with enthusiasm and forgotten with consistency.
We once feared machines would become human. Instead, humans are becoming comfortably mechanical. Perhaps it is time to pause. To struggle with a problem without assistance. To cook without a tutorial. To search within before searching online. To write something imperfect but original. To be confused, curious, slow – and alive in thought.
Or better yet, let AI decide whether that’s a good idea.