Autos: need them; Auto-drivers: mostly, can’t tolerate them!

If you’ve noticed, auto drivers are always a specimen by themselves. In any given city/state, auto drivers have their own characteristics. [Unlike bus drivers, who are the same bad, rash people all over the country, with no sense of ‘middle of the road’, ‘bus bay’ and ‘bus stops’.  Sometime, they even think a red traffic light is as good as a bus stop; only, when it turns green, the spot remains a bus stop!]

In Trivandrum, once, after a truckload of shopping with my aunt, we piled into an auto with everything and asked him to take us to my aunt’s place. Now, her house has got its own private lane (a long driveway with a 30-degree slant), which is set within another private lane (a kilometer long one that’s not tarred) which branches off from the main road. The driver is happy when we get in, because its along drive from the shopping area. But the moment we reach the mud road, he refuses to move the auto an inch further. Finally, we coax him into driving further, saying we can’t lug all the bags all the way by ourselves. He agree and we rumble all the way till we reach the driveway. He doesn’t like 30-degree slants. He refuses to go further again. We point at the bags. Finally, grumbling, we drive down and reach the porch when he says, “Ithippo vannu vannu adukkala vare ethiyallo” (we’ve driven almost right into the kitchen). And my aunt coolly replies: “engi keri oru kutti puttadichttu poykko” (then why don’t you come in and have a plate of ‘puttu’) 😀

Another time in Trivandrum, the same aunt and myself get into an auto and go to my school (I had passed out from 12th from there just a month back then) to pick my cousin up. If we go by the metre, it’d come to a max of Rs 25. The hero demands Rs 45. The aunt is enraged, but politely tell him that’s outrageous – and that she’ll give him 30. But he’s stubborn…and a small quarrel begins. By then, a few of my classmates are strolling in (our results were published and we were constantly in and out, for some certificate or the other – mostly, just to see friends ;)) He sees them and figures that we both wouldn’t particularly want to get insulted in front of some good-lloking guys 😉 And he says “Enikkengum venda ningade pichakaashu” (I didn’t ask for alms from you; I don’t want your petty cash), and throws it back on my aunts face. Now, she’s enraged and not polite about it 😀 She tells him that she wont be insulted AT ALL if he raises his voice in front of a few guys who are her own son’s age…and promptly turns around and walks into the school! Hehe…our school has a ‘no-entry for public vehicles and autorickshaws (and their drivers)’ and did not let him enter! We had to stay in there for about an hour and half…and the man lost his Rs 25! 😀

In Chennai, once. Am with a friend, going to Spencer’s plaza from Adayar, which is like a 6-7 km drive.
Me: Spencer’s Plaza?
AD: (nods)
Me: How much?
AD: 150 roopees, ma.
Me: What? It’s hardly 6-7 kms.
AD: 150 roopees, ma. (they don’t believe in that cute little thing called a ‘metre’!)
Me: Ithu romba annyayam thaane. Konjam reasonable-aa sollu. Yevalo? (Isn’t this unfair? Give a reasonable aret. How much?)
AD: (with new respect in eyes): 50 roopees ok-vaa?

In Mumbai once. Am going from Dombivali to someplace that’s like 3 km away, with my friend. She’s in a hurry to reach her dad’s bank before closing time. And there are no other autos in sight.
Friend: ___ Ice-factory. Kithna hoga bhaiyya?
AD: Nahin jaayenge.
Friend: Huh? Metre se double denge. Thoda jaldi hai…
AD: Nahin jaayenge.
Friend: Bhaiya pls…
AD: Bola naa…nahin jaayenge. (And he speeds off in exactly that direction!)

In Kochi, once. A friend and I decide to take a ric, and after calling him over, realise we don’t want one.)
Me: Alls…sorry. Auto venda (don’t want an auto)
AD: Njaan metre idaam (I’ll put the metre on.)
Me: [I gape in shock! They usually just utter a random number they like, and suffix a a zero or two ;)] Alla…venda…it’s ok. (I start walking off and the auto keeps pace with me!)
AD: Extra tharandenne… (You don’t have to pay me anything extra)
Me: (cooking up a lie) Alla, enikk backpain ondu. Inganathe autoyil keraan pattilla (I have backpain; can’t travel by this type of auto).
AD: Njaan pathukke odikkam pengale (I’ll drive slowly).
Me: (exasperated) Fine. Di, let’s go.
He actually takes double the time than usual to take us home ! 😀
P.S.: The ONLY time I had a god experience with Kochi autos.

In Bangalore, all the time.
Me: (want to say ‘Race course road’) “Race…”
AD: (giving me a dirty look, speeds off)
Me: (want to say ‘J.P. Nagar’) “J.…”
AD: (giving me a dirty look, speeds off)
Me: (want to say ‘Domalur Fly over’) “Doml…”
AD: (doesn’t even wait to give the dirty look, speeds off)
Me: (want to say ‘Koramangala’) “…”
AD: (waves his head in the negative from a distance, speeds off)

Me: (ready with my latest technique ;)) Domalur Fly over hogthira? (3 km from home; Rs 21 on metre)
AD: 50 roopis.
Me: Metre aak beku (go by the metre).
AD: (shakes his head; about to speed off)
Me: (as if I just remembered) Actually, Bagmane hog beku (have to go to Bagmane)… (Bagmane TechPark is at least 10 km from home; about 75-80 on metre)
AD: (nods greedily)
ME: (reaches Domalur flyover) Illi swalpa stop maadi sir (please stop here).
Ad: (stops and asks) Illi saaka? Bagmane? (Don’t you want to go to Bagmane, then?)
Me: Beda, illi saku (nope, this is enough) [hop off, hand over 21 ‘roopis’ and scrams; idea worked… Me happy;)]

At all other times, they either want twice or thrice the amount on the metre; have no change for 100, so will drive 2 km extra and then give change for whatever the metre shows then; will go, but will fly over bumps and potholes and break one’s back; will try to squeeze into any empty spot, graze against a scooter and go out and bash the scooter driver up; or refuse to go short distances…and then chase you once they get a longer drive in the same direction (typical two-birds-with-one-shot story)!

Autos:  can’t live without them; Auto-drivers: can’t stand them! 😀

“I’m an open blog…er er…open book”

It sometimes surprises me how much of an open ‘book’ we all are through our blogs. I’m sure if I meet most of the people in my blog roll, there’s at least one thing I know about them which does not fall into categories like “Where’s his native place”, “Where’s she working”, “Is she from Delhi”, “Is he married”, and so on.

There’s so much that’s shared on a blog: in the form of tags (am sure they were invented by a stalker ;)), memories, feelings, incidents, rants, and what not!

I remember an age when we were asked not to put up our pics on the Internet (for fear of misuse); not to put up personal info about ourselves (now, personal info is just bank account number and the like); not to trust people you see online (20/F/Delhi may very well be 75/M/Uganda); not to correspond with people who write personal mails to you, if you don’t really know them personally. All bleh!

I guess, especially for bloggers, there’s no fear of being open about themselves. When you blog, you’re being yourselves. Your readers have different opinions, perspectives, ideas; they may not always agree with you, and they are open about that too!

When we read something about a person on a blog, like a tag on his/her fav 10 eatables, 3 fav dresses, or 5 fav movies/songs, we just tend to believe it and relate those things with that person. We don’t question it, or doubt its
authenticity. Somehow, hypocrisy seems to hit a firewall when a blog is opened 😀

Just the other day, I got a mail from Uma, based on a comment I had put in her blog. She wanted to know a few details about taking up literature (for her daughter’s higher edu). One mail turned into a thread of 5 or 6..and finally she said “the speed of thought is so much more. we can talk in person” and we exchanged mobile numbers!! (Damn! That reminds me, I haven’t called her up yet. I will, Uma; today, for sure ;))

I will not sit and wonder if this “Uma, mother of two girls” is actually a 50-year old stalker looking forward to whisper indecencies over the phone! 😀 In fact, if anything, we both felt real good to be actually writing long mails to each other, like we’ve known each other for the past 300 years! 😀

Apart from letting us be our true self (and not worry what others will think), blogging does a lot to all of us: though we don’t realise it much. It tells us a lot about perspectives, cultures, current affairs (and people’s views on them), likes, dislikes, trends, cities, beliefs, and what not!
What do you all feel? Is there an inherent danger in being so open to the world? Do you think some disaster could come out of it? Do you think someone could take advantage of you after figuring out the kind of person you are? Do you think it’s not the best thing to be such an “open book”?

I, let me admit, don’t. Here’s to all the lovely bloggers…and their even lovelier blogs! You all make life much more fun 😀

Sophistication starts with an ‘S’. So does Stupidity :P

I am what I am! 😀

A statement like that’s the only way I can establish that if you need to like me, you just need to do it without getting judgmental or advisory 😀  Just assume that I’m a composed, sophisticated and so-full-of-attitude person. Because, sophistication does not come to me naturally. But I am trying my best 😀

I have (rather had) a habit of keeping a daily diary. And now that I’ve given it up (gave up after marriage…lest the husband gets to know the ‘real’ me ;)), I miss going back on years and reading about those days of stupidity. So, I thought, what better place than my blog to keep my secrets stupid…uh oh…keep my stupidities a secret, i meant! 😀

Anyways, here goes my favourite ones 😀 (Long-post-ahead Alert!!)

I was like 3 or 4, I used to spend the entire day in the company (or the lack of it) of my grandmother. She used to make me nap alongside her for 3 hours compulsorily (to keep me away from mischief while she slept). One day, devoid of any sleep, I was pressing her ruby locket into my arm and making impressions when she looked at me lovingly and said, “When I die, this locket will be yours.” I nodded my head and continued with the impressions; then suddenly, I woke her up from sleep and said, “marakkalle ammumma...” (Please don’t forget, Grandma). And she didn’t! It wasn’t forgotten like one for those “innocent comments” kids make. Sigh!

I was probably labelled dangerous to be left alone with Grandma any more. She feared for her life, I suppose. It was decided I was to attend kindergarten 😀

On my first day at Kindergarten, I was screaming away at full-throttle at the prospect of getting abandoned by my mom…that the teacher there made me sit on her lap to pacify me and make me feel safe. I decided that was going to be my seat everyday (and it definitely helped that she was quite plump; such comfortable seating, I say!). The next day onwards, I’d walk in, keep my bag and lunch pack on the desk allocated for me, and go climb on to her lap. 😀 It was like our family kindergarten: all my elder cousins, and my brother, had been to the same one; so, I did enjoy a level of freedom and partiality there 😉 Anyways, like most women, she also loved to gossip…and she did that religiously with the ayah there, discussing every parent that comes to drop off their kids. She once told the ayah that my mom literally throws me in and rushes off (in her defense, my poor mom had a punching system for attendance at her office and couldn’t afford to be late even by a minute!). I promptly went home and told my mom that…and she stayed a lil longer the next day to explain herself. I never retrieved my ‘comfortable’ seat after that! Sigh!

I suppose she kept tabs on me forever after that. “Teachers” were my greatest enemies ever since 😀 And especially so, if they taught either Hindi or Malayalam!

I was double promoted and put into UKG almost a month after I joined LKG. Guess she wanted me out of there asap! And then I joined an ICSE school. Since my dad had a transferable job, he decided that I should opt for Hindi as my second language, since he was sure his next transfer would be to some place in the north. And I was put into the Hindi gang there. Being an ICSE school, we had only two languages to learn. English, of course, was compulsory. And my optional was Hindi, and not Malayalam. By the time I reached my 3rd grade, Dad got his transfer to the “north”; only, it was to North Kerala, and not North India!! 😀 We packed off to Guruvayur. I was put into a CBSE school: and voila! two languages became three. English, Hindi and Malayalam. All compulsory. Damn! I was in big trouble. Our Malayalam teacher turned out to be a Sanskrit professor as well; in fact, that was her primary subject. So, one can imagine her depth of knowledge of the Malayalam language as well. I immediately got into her black list 😀 Mom became my self-proclaimed Malayalam tutor and started teaching me the alphabets. While the rest of the class raced each other in reading page-long lessons, I was trying to write “a aa e ee u uu” without mistakes 😀 Soon, it was time for the mid-term exams. I blinked. I knew the answer to just one question! I was elated too: at least, I won’t take home a zero! The question was to list two synonyms of Bhoomi (earth). I knew the answers — Kshoni and Paaru. But alas, Mom had taught me the older script, while the school was teaching the new script; in all that tension of getting spanked by the teacher again, I muddled up everything and wrote the answers in my own script. Apparently, I was destined to take home a zero! After paper valuation, my answer was read in front of the entire class. “Priya’s synonyms for Bhoomi are Keshani (gossip/jealousy) and Paara (backstabbing and the like, born out of jealousy or anger). Was a small school, and I became infamous! Sigh!

Anyways, after scraping through high school without much trouble, I got into a mad gang of friends in the 11th and 12th grades. We had an ever-irate classmate whom we all loved to fool. Once, during a free hour, we were all having fun when I saw this girl remove her shoes and stretch her toes. I slowly pulled one from under the bench and threw it out the window. Bad timing; for our Physics teacher walked by just then, looking for me! She marched in and ordered me out of the class (this had become an everyday affair, o there was no embarrassment). She’d been on her way to penalise me for writing a friend’s fair record (I loved Physics and was always more than willing to be where Physics was :D; and yes, he told me I had the best handwriting in school ;)). Anyway, she started screaming at me for being irresponsible, indisciplined and all that. And to top it all she had seen a 11th grader throw a fellow ‘studious’ 11th graders shoe out the window! And while the screaming went on, I stood there, head bent as much as it would bend, laughing my guts out and almost succeeding in keeping her unaware…till she almost went down on her knees to see my face. Though she did smile, she had a super report to give my parents! Sigh!

But she was a real sport the day I rushed in late for my 12th Boards final practical exam! I rushed into the dark coolness of the huge school building from a scorching sun, which made my eyes watery; and the running made me pant. When she hissed at me for my late arrival, all I could manage to say was, “Teacher, my grandmother…” and she just assumed my grandmother must’ve passed away! She immediately made amends, apologised (!!!) and directed me to my seat. When the external invigilator called me over to question my knowledge of the project I’d submitted, she interrupted her and told her, “Her grandmother…psst…psst…psst.” And, to my surprise, am excused from the Q&A session. AND. I passed the exam with a 29 on 30! 😉

Anyway, that marked the end of my tryst with the sciences. I was, any day, better off with Arts and the languages.

I gave up my love of Physics (my extraordinary talent in Mathematics made sure I never fared well in Physics) and chose to graduate in Literature. The college I did my graduation in, was set a little off from the main road: which meant all of us had half a kilometre to walk to and from the bus stop to college. Every evening, there would be about 100-150 girls (it was a women’s college) crowding at the highway bus stop 😉 Which meant, there’d be a good share of guys too 😀 On a certain day, a group of us girls were waiting for the bus, chatting animatedly when I noticed a guy giving our gang repeated looks and occasional smiles. And so, I told the rest of the gang “There’s a guy yonder, sending looks this way…he’s even smiling, as if we’re basking in his attention. Vrithikettavan. Vaainokki. Mazhuvan!” And then, one among the group became highly interested in the word “mazhuvan“, the meaning of which I started explaining most happily. I told her it means anything in the range of  ‘geek’, ‘useless’, ‘nerd’, ‘drip’, ‘bore’… And then, she wanted to know how I could make out so much about him. Like a wise ass, I told her, “It’s quite evident…look at his hairstyle…his stupid dressing…n that ready-made smile…and just about everything. Ivaneyokke kettunnavalde kashtakaalam (pity the girl who’ll marry him). I’d love to warn her!” “Yes. You just did,” she said, and walked off in his direction! Turned out he’d come to pick her up and was waiting for the rest of us to leave. Sigh!

Jesus! I wished I could sink through the ground then! That was the LAST time I made any comment about random people!

In spite of years of such incidents, I wonder why I took up Advertising and Public Relations for my PG! Hehe…any brand which’d trust their name in my hands would be doing so at their own risk 😉 OK! Am kidding. Am actually quite good at my work! 😀

Anyways, it was an autonomous college that focused on MBA and PGDM courses. I think the PR&Ad course was only because they liked the extra income 😉 We were a small group of 15 Malayalees in a college that hyped on MBA and PGDM, which had a high North-Indian population. And, we were the trouble makers ;); least popular of all batches 😀 They hated us, we hated them. Once, there was a National-level seminar held for the sake of the PGDMs, and since the professors didn’t trust us to behave ourselves if left alone, we were (like a punishment), asked to attend it too. And the moment the seminar got over, we sprang up from our seats and rushed out, making fun of the ‘panna’ PGDMs. I lead the rushing out, got my heel caught under the carpet and feel headlong onto the portico—in front of the entire college. I could hear gasps and murmurs. But all I could think of was the way I fell, and how hilarious it might have been to see. And, lying right there, I burst out laughing in front of some 200 odd students. Well, that was the only time some good came out of my ‘situations’. Our gang was not perceived as ‘stuck-up’ anymore! 😉

The icing on the cream cake was after my engagement. Suraj and I had created chaos in both families by falling in love: a Christian and a Hindu. After much refusal, esp. from his family, we’d gotten everyone to agree. Finally, the dates were fixed, and cards were printed. There was a formality of the bride’s parents “inviting” the bridegroom’s parents. We were on our way back to Trivandrum from Guruvayur, and dropped in at his place in Kochi. According to Hindu traditions, the bride does NOT step into the groom’s house before marriage! I was only too happy to stay back in the car. But his dad was a sport and welcomed me also in, saying, “We Christians don’t have such beliefs. Come on in.” I give a shy smile (pretending to be the polite daughter-in-law of their dreams), remove my shoe and (as is considered auspicious) keep my right foot on the first step. Boom! The transformer nearby burns off with a terrifying boom and vibrations, causing a bike to fall off its stand against the neighbour’s gate and crash. And obviously, the power goes off! Just like in the movies 😀 His dad managed to hold on to that smile, and (a little falteringly this time) repeats, “Come right in.” How I managed to sit through 20 minutes without bursting out laughing, I alone know! Damn, what an impression that must’ve made. Sigh!

The consequences…and my learnings:

  • I hate gold (and valuable jewellery) and did NOT inherit my grandmother’s locket even after she passed away 9 months back.
  • I’ve realised that gossiping (and even being a mute audience to it) does one no good; and try and abstain from it as much as is possible.
  • I have learnt to read and write Malayalam, in whichever script and font size it may be!
  • I do not throw shoes out the window anymore (but I still haven’t learnt to control my urge to laugh when I’m being scolded!)
  • I’ve never, since, started any sentence with “my grandmother”, esp right after running!
  • I do not make comments about random people anymore.
  • I do not wear heels anymore.
  • I swear never to step into the bridegroom’s house before my wedding, anymore. [I lead a very happily married life, and have proved that such incidents do not spell disasters (for marriages)!]

Three’s never a crowd!

After quite a long time (4 and a half months, for sure), I called up one of my closest friends — to know that she was 4 months pregnant!! So much for being “close friends”!!! 😛

And after the inital whats and whaats and whaaats, I let out one string of abuses her way for not letting me know. And with that ever cheeky that-don’t-impress-me-much tone, she tells me, “Oh! I thought I’ll just give you all a surprise!” Apparently, in all that excitement and tests and waiting-for-the-confirmation delays, she forgot to call us. Then she thought about it a month later…by then she was sure she’d get killed for not having told us friends. And then, she thought ‘what the heck, let the baby come out…and i’ll let them know”. The ass! Hehe…she was quite sure then, that we wouldn’t be meeting till the baby’s out 😛

I’ve been friends with this mad girl since my 9th grade…and it’s always been the ‘heights of fun’ when the two of us, along with the third musketeer, joined together! All 3 of us are “younger sister” to some super brothers…and while we both have 1, she has 3!! Which explains her escalated level of madness!

We’ve stayed cooped up in her smelly bedroom from morn till night, pretending to study…while all we ever did was read novels and eat and make endless phone calls and eat and sleep and eat and gossip and eat and…oh, you get the picture, right? We’ve walked from her house, all the way to mine (some good 8-9kms) in the scorching sun, chattering away on about everything. We’ve spent hours together discussing loves, crushes and heartbreaks.

We’ve travelled all over Trivandrum for no reason at all (as a result of talking animatedly and boarding any damn bus without looking at the name board!!)…in fact, once we sat right in front of the conductor’s seat in the bus and refused to take a ticket 😀 Just before getting off the bus, when the conductor asked us for the ticket, she actually told him “Oh, innu ticket edukkan oru moodilla” (Oh, we didn’t have the mood to get a ticket today!) 😛

We’ve bunked our classes to join a third class’ PT hour {two of us were in the same class n this mad one was in another; so, while the every class had just one PT hour a week, we had one everyday…almost ;)}and play in the hot sun (guess we were the only 3 girls the PT master didn’t hate :D)! We’ve always wanted to be in the same class (precisely why the teachers conspired and always made sure at least one among us was separated from the gang during class hours) that she’s hidden under our bench, only to be discovered and thrown out by the teacher!

Edited to add this after this memory suddenly came back: We’ve lurked around after school hours, waiting for all the teachers to leave, then gone behind the school building and tried to understand what’s the ‘cool’ factor about smoking 😉 After a puff each and volleys of coughing fits and teary eyes, we ran off into the girls’ loo when we heard our PT master demanding who the smoker was (he saw smoke, apparently!) A poor 7th grade boy got caught and interrogated [they did the spell smell-check on him, but he came off clean :D], but no one ever figured out!

We’ve bunked school to attend the “La Fest” (an inter-school fest conducted by Loyola School in Trivandrum, every year), in spite of being warned against it by our class teacher–and then disappointed her by bringing her leave letters signed by our parents that actually said “Was unable to attend class since I wanted to attend La Fest”, instead of a cooked up “fever” story 😀

Long story short, we’ve been the perfect ‘undisciplined gang of girls’ at school (and SO NOT proud about it now 😦 ) By the time we passed out of school, we ‘grew up’ and vowed we’ll become better people. All that took to make us better people was to get the 3 of us going in 3 different ways 😀

We still get back to being the ‘undisciplined gang of girls’ whenever we meet (though we pretend to be civilised). All of us were mad enough on the other’s wedding and instead of gifts, presented the ‘bridegroom’ with condolence messages (through the bride of course! who wants to give away the disaster that’s in store :D)!?

I can’t believe she’s going to be a mom! I can only pity the poor baby that’s on its way (am done pitying the husband by now 😉 ). Love you girl! Can’t wait to see you!

How to lose about 300 people in a matter of minutes.

Yea…you read that right: not pounds/kgs, but people!

I had had a long day at work yesterday, and had asked the husband to come all the way to my office and pick me up! The princess that I am, I refused to go home in an auto/bus. I had to have my chauffeur! Fed up of work — or rather, the lack of it — at a good-for-nothing office, he was already in a bad mood. Having to drive that extra mile amidst unrelenting traffic, and then, waiting for me outside my office forever (to which he’s become accustomed) did very little to cheer him up!

Which is when the thought of food came in—always the catalyst for a cheerful time!  So we went to a much-hyped Mallu restaurant near our place in Koramangala, Bangalore. Bad food, pathetic service, big-time delay and a high price tag. Did nothing but drive the husband deeper into the dumps!

A pack of VCDs had arrived earlier the evening (a few classic Mallu movies the husband had ordered from Moser Baer over the Internet), and i thought, “what better than a good movie to cheer up my movie freak” 🙂

So we reach home, settle down and decide to watch a movie — when he starts groping around in his pockets, beneath the cushions, under the sofa…and asks, “Where’s my mobile”?

The husband, when assured that the mobile is safe, usually does not budge from the sofa once seated, unless it’s a life threatening situation (like my heading for the TV with a hockey stick, maybe). But now, he’s up and about, searching for his mobile in all possible places a Sony Ericsson K710i can fit.
We call to his number from my phone and it says “The Airtel customer you’re trying to reach is currently out of reach…”. Momentary solace, hoping its way under the thick cushions of the sofa. Until I say that I’d heard a ‘thud’ when we turned the corner right after leaving the restaurant.

And then, pandemonium. Quick call to the restaurant: negative. Quick trip to the restaurant: negative. Not-so-quick survey of the entire lane: negative. Mobile lost: positive! And that was it. He seemed to have lost all interest in life (I wonder where I fit in 😉 ).

So, here’s how you lose about 300 people in a matter of minutes! Simple. Lose your mobile phone! 😀

Am sure the husband won’t be empathetic to my ‘simple’ analysis. He had to learn it the hard way, poor thing 😦 The thought of having lost about 250 odd contacts, many photographs and close to a million “I love you” messages I’d sent seemed to paralyse him 😦  How many contacts have I lost? How will I get back all those numbers?

And I say, “Call Airtel CC and  block your SIM. Ask them if we can get your mobile traced…isn’t there some IMEI number we can use?” The number is duly blocked and he promised to issue a duplicate SIM immediately, but the smart CC guy says the ‘Trace your lost phone with the IMEI number’ service is not available in India!

More depression and irritation. “Suraj, the sun” had set for a while 😀 [Perhaps this is what a baby goes through on Day 1: the world knows its identity, but the poor baby knows none!]

Which then made me wonder how much we all rely on that little gadget called a mobile phone (“we” does not include me; i rather believe mobile phones should be left wherever you please…and allow it to ring till it dies)

We no longer remember the phone numbers like we used to (of course, it’s much tougher to keep track of 8 digits compared to those cute 5-digit numbers :D); we no longer jot down numbers on quaint, alphabetical diaries; we no longer rush from our seat to attend that call on the phone resting on that antique corner stool (we’d rather the mobile phone rush to us: it’s ‘mobile’ for a reason!); we no longer scribble our loved one’s birthdays on our wall calendar; we no longer have use for that round little thing lovingly called an ‘alarm clock’; in fact, we’re in a stage where we wish everything could be located with a “missed call” !

Biting nails when boredom strikes are a thing of the past: it’s the mobile phone we play with.

Reading random magazines at the dentist is passé: why that, when we have games on our mobile phone?

Receiving no calls for one full continuous hour could only be because the battery has run out; not because you’re indispensible 😀

Owning a mobile is mandatory for anyone who wants to fall in love.

Etiquettes matter only at meetings and at the table; whoever said mobile phones come with a set of etiquettes? (Of course, I got a thick free etiquette book; but I sold it along with a stack of old newspapers! :D) If you are the proud owner of a mobile phone, the following are OK:

  • Letting it ring insistently with that irritating ringtone (while you grope for it in the darkness) at the theatre
  • Talking on it while in a flight (endangering other passengers as well) unless the pilot threatens to jump out with his parachute
  • Fiddling with the “End” button, only to change your mind, accept the call and brawl into it with a “In a meeting; will call back later… Oh, that! Man, that was funny…hehhehehe…ooops…in a meeting; will call back later!”
  • Waking up people from their sleep to say “Oh…did I wake you up? Sorry, didn’t notice the time… So, how’s life?”
  • Talking animatedly on the mobile phone while crossing the road, and getting (not just oneself) others too into danger
  • Talking loudly (not to mention the loud ringing) in libraries, hospitals, air-conditioned public vehicles and everywhere else!
    ………..
  • And a dozen other irritating stuff!

For someone who’s damn careless and absented about all things, and mobile phones especially, I’ve never lost one: so, I don’t know the agony of losing it. In fact, on those days that I forget to carry it along to work, I experience a particular sense of peace and calm — of not having to attend calls, respond to messages and ensure it’s not misplaced 😉

I wonder how we (rest of the world excluding me) lived when the mobile phones didn’t exist! 😉 It’s a ‘maaranam’ (evil) we can’t live without, now!

Any special mobile stories, folks?