Bikram Vohra is a humor writer. Amazing isn’t it that people come to your home or office, plonk themselves and say, hey what’s your password, I need to connect, don’t have data. Why would I give you my password when the whole idea is to keep it secret? And now that our lives are held at ransom by this internet insurgent and we cower in fear of the fallout of forgetting it why would I spread it like butter? Of course, that courtesy can only be extended if I recall it, seeing as how passwords are now so complex and demanding. In the early days they were simple freedom fighters and you got away with your birth date and the first three initials of one kid and the first three of the second and if you had three kids it was the first two letters and you came up with Sitaam or Nayka, and if you were smarter than the great unwashed masses you did first three and last three letters like Nananks or Ambix. Even then the password was a relatively benign part of your life. Now you obsess. You use it to get into your bank, to shop, to send money, to see and pay your bills, to go onto a social platform, watch a movie, start and recharge your phone, one day even to begin breathing.