Good old times :-)

Is anyone else pissed off with your service provider and their unlimited amounts of mobile spam? Seriously, I want them to stop sending me messages, 10 times a day, telling me that I could be the first to download the hit song of the month ‘ada ada ada asathutdhu un style’ from the movie ‘Sivaji’. The more such messages I get, the more I want to throw my phone against the wall and watch it crack open but then, I’d never do that, considering the life history of my 16 previous phones. That’s why I’m taking out my frustrations here.

I liked it better back when phones weren’t as advanced or prevalent as they are now. In fact, I still have fond memories of my first mobile phone, in college – a dull greyish green , heavy alactel (vodafone)(98422 98833 - try it and let me know if anyone is using it)with an antenna like a concrete pipe that could’ve been effectively used as a road block. It belonged to my dad, who handed it down to me reluctantly ,but only after my whole family was completley annoyed with the amount of phone calls i used to recieve from the alarming number of *good humour* loving girls who loved speaking to me (its true- u can verify and it had its side effects like they giving me love letters and proposing to me etc etc).Back to the topic,the phone had only vestiges of its battery life remaining.As a result, it spent almost all of its time connected to the charger, making it about as connected as the corporeal being in my previous post . Whenever I had an opportunity to take the phone outside, it was a journey. everytime I receive a calll, I would say the same thing “My battery’s almost out. Can I call you later?” and the people who were calling me would say, “Sure” thinking I was way too busy and I must have been talking all day for my battery to be so low. After I hung up, I’d gaze lovingly at the screen, looking at the top right hand corner and knowing that I had only a few seconds before my beloved phone died on me. Even after it did, I would still look at it every now and then. Good old times.

Also, the instrument was about 16 inches long and weighed a few tonnes ,placing it in my shirt pocket would mean looking like,Zakarus the single breasted prostitute from Uranus. The pant pockets ! well! , the antenna was long and strong enough to tear through the inner wear and cause fatal injury to regions that determine your future. I had to carry around a bag just for the phone, making me look even inept than I already did. Those were tough times, but I didn’t mind. I loved my big, fat phone. I was even considered cool, in some circles. But then, suddenly, without warning, mobile phones started getting smaller. Today, there are several models which, if you aren’t careful enough, could slip and fall into your ear.

So while using the old phones was tough, at least you knew where you stood with them. You used all of its features, which were three in number – calling, receiving and playing snake(it started with my nokia 5110 - yes i had it ...). You never had to think about welcoming your callers with hello tunes. It was peacetime in the mobile world. Whereas today I cannot sit for a couple of hours without receiving a message from AirTel informing me that I can now use my phone without issues in some pathetic, godforsaken places like Melanmarainadu, Vilangkattuvalasu ,Pombur and Mullipallam as if that’s exactly what I was putting off my trip there for. Gee! Now that the network’s finally there, I can go to sunny Pombur , buy some cattle and explore the exciting new career avenues in agriculture.

So these smses are extremely painful, especially when you’re sitting in front of a computer, typing out C++ programs that you don’t understand. And it’s not all. Apart from offering me new hello tunes to choose from and keeping me informed about all the new villages they’ve added, they also want me to take part in a number of contests and win loads of prizes. They think they’re improving customer morale, while they’re actually achieving the exact opposite. The hello tune messages make me feel somewhat guilty, because it seemed like I wasn’t treating my callers well enough, as if I was making them listen to Mandira Bedi talk while they waited. Also, whenever I look at the phone and see that the message sender is a number, like 5454 or 2547, I feel terribly hurt. I feel that the least these companies can do is to assign names to all these senders. That way, there’s a human touch, and we can feel at least slightly loved.

But I know it wont happen, and that I’m going to continue receiving tens of thousands of messages everyday until the day, and the day will come, when I throw my phone out of the window. Till then, however, you can call me, and listen to ‘Cheeni Kum hai Cheeni Kum hai’ while you wait in anticipation to listen to the sweetest voice God has managed to come up with.