I just got off the phone with my dad, who’s currently on the way to the local kirana store.“Why don’t you just Blinkit it?” I asked, confused.“Otar ki dorkar, ami just giye niye ashbo 5 minute e (I can just go and get it in 5 minutes),” he replied.“But Blinkit o toh 5 minute ei diye jabe (But Blinkit will also give it in 5 minutes),” I argued.“Thaak, bekaar delivery charges dite hobena (They will just charge extra for delivery),” he got the final word in, before disconnecting the call.As I stare at my phone, a thought crosses my mind: “I don’t understand why he needs to complicate his life.”But when I think about it a little harder, I realise that the last time I ran an errand alone was probably 7 years ago. Ever since I moved out of Kolkata, Blinkits and Zeptos have taken over my life: my morning grocery walks, weekly salon visits and even my evening snack runs.Back home, my dad still goes out to buy rotis daily and tea leaves every fortnight. Whenever I asked him, he used to get me telebhaja on the way back from work. Occasionally, he goes to the store and calls for a plumber or electrician. In person.I remember – since I always accompanied him. My childhood seems to be filled with memories of running errands with my dad and uncle. And if I’m being completely honest, that is the only quality time I spent with them while growing up.Is convenience culture replacing humanity?Many of us don’t run errands anymore. And why would we? There’s an app for everything now. Press one button, watch some money get debited and call for any service I want. Food delivery, technicians, house help – you name it, they’ve got it.Story continues below this adBut what they don’t deliver is the thrill and safety I felt embarking on these mini adventures with my dad as an 8-year-old. Knowing I was out to explore the world, contribute to the household and feel important as I do so. That I would occasionally get to coax a treat out of him – a packet of red Lays, a Kinder Joy, an egg roll if it was a lucky day.When I go back home, spending time with my parents includes going to the mall and sitting in a fancy restaurant. Looking at an overpriced menu and watching my dad jokingly call me his “most expensive expenditure”.But somewhere deep down, I miss going for an evening stroll around the block - - buying mishti for next morning’s Narayan pujo, stopping by the noodle hawker for a half plate of egg chicken chowmein and grabbing 500 grams of nimki to accompany evening chai for the coming week. I never realised those trips were actually conversations in disguise. Blinkit is bringing back the nostalgia of running errandsRecreating intimacyHere in Noida, whenever I have to run a tedious errand, I find myself asking a friend to come along and end up making a day out of it.Story continues below this adQuick commerce has slowly replaced errand culture, but a recent trend points to a quieter shift. By offloading solo chores onto apps, we are even going so far as to turn chores into dates.Checking things off a to-do list while also getting to see someone on a raw, intimate level –– almost like a glimpse into your long-term future. Two birds, one stone.Also Read | Are we all just homesick? Welcome to the age of borrowed belongingBut I wonder if by doing so, we are losing out on what makes dating feel so exciting. The thrill of getting ready before a first date, awkward small talk while you discover each other’s ordering preferences, and charged hand brushing over shared popcorn in a theatre. These are the moments that make dating fun, and you’re asking us to jump right into a visit to the vet?Let longing and courtship stick to candlelight dinners and movie theatres. As for romanticising errands, bring back spending quality time with your loved ones. Without the added pressure of getting to know someone from scratch, you would get to see a different side of your friend. Who knows? You might even get to see their exceptional bargaining skills in use.Maybe that’s why errand culture feels nostalgic now.Story continues below this adNot because buying bread or fixing pressure cookers was particularly exciting, but because these small, forgettable tasks quietly created intimacy. They gave people reasons to spend time together without formally calling it quality time.Now, convenience has removed the need for those moments altogether. And somewhere between instant delivery and curated date nights, we’ve started manufacturing the kind of closeness that once arrived naturally. While it gave us back our time, I’m just not sure we always know what to do with it.