Picture Kamal Hassan wearing an aluminium pot and doing a monkey dance to a post amnesiac Sridevi just before she had got her new nose. Remember how your throat choked and your eyes welled up?Just when I thought my week couldn’t get any worse, I go and lose my phone. Now losing a phone these days is not like it was say.. three years ago; when I last lost my phone.
Three years ago I never had important clients waiting for urgent revertals, three years ago my phone wasn’t involved in multicrore deals (um it still isn’t, but I’m close), three years ago I had 50 names in my contact list and till earlier this week, I had 1100!! Imagine that.
There are a lot of angles to this loss. I’ll get to them though after I finish abusing the unscrupulous auto fucker who didn’t return my phone. Now Autofucker (as he is best christened), will probably make close to 4 grand when he sells my phone. Before that Autofucker will also be very tickled when he sees my videos and pictures. Especially precious kissing snap of me and ex (that was the only pic I ever had of him, another fucker, but more of that later). Why don’t they ever return phones? If I was autofucker, I would have been smarter. I would have held the phone for ransom and demanded double. Then I would have met me in a dark alley in an anorak and have the cash dropped off in an abandoned post box and threatened to delete all numbers if the police was contacted. See that’s a more profitable thing to do and honestly apart from the 8 odd grand, no one really gets hurt. This way, the damage caused is so palpable. My whole life was on that phone. I used it like a lifeline. Right from Numbers, to writing poetry to bank account numbers to do to lists to birthdays to funeral dates. Do they realize that phones these days are like…like arms?!. Honestly, the period between losing my phone and till a colleague gave me a temp replacement was like stunned limbo. Like a part of me had died. It was like bereavement. Like that unhappy feeling of doom after a break up. I actually thought about my phone, like a person, like wondering what it was doing right now, wondering if my Chinese goodluck charm thingy was still dangling from it, wondering how unhappy it must be in the dirty pocket of autofucker.
I curse Autofucker. I smite him with a trillion Chickun guniya infected mosquitos.
Ok now that that’s done let me give you an estimation of the damage and also the strange realization that there is still one advantage in losing ALL the numbers on your phone..
a) I have to buy a new phone and I’m broke
b) I had to beg my mother to buy me a phone
c) To teach me a lesson my mother has bought me the cheapest most socially repressed phone in the market.
d) My memory is so bad that I don’t even know best friends number so now I have to wait for people to call. And if no one does it will be greatest test of how popular I am.
e) For the next six months I will have to say “can you send me the number please, I lost my phone and all my numbers”.
f) I have to send out generic email to people with above sentence and I know that no one will reply because in the past I never have.
g) I will have to call ask me services to update all my lifelines like Pvr, Adlabs, Cinemax, Bamboo shoot, Dominoes etc and suffer long drawn sentences like’ Yes Mr Kavita I can definitely help you with the same, can I before that first explain you the merits of our two discount schemes, if you buy one packet of mother diary milk, three cows will die in Doddigunta and two cubes of cheese free Mr kavita”
h) My phone bill over the next month will double because I will have to make atleast five calls to get a number that I already had.
i) I had some of the most coveted numbers in Bollywood on my phone. I mean my contact list started with Aamir for crying out loud dude.
I’m sure this list will keep growing everyday. Anyone who has experienced a loss of this magnitude will understand that. But I realized this evening as I was keying in work numbers from my outlook inbox that there was one bittersweet reason why losing my precious pet might do me a good turn. Now, I will never have to face the extreme embarrassment of DD.
DD = (Drunken Dialing); or “dialing an ex lover in a state of inebriation and muttering lewdly in the insane assumption that you are turning the person on and he will come running back to you, madly in love, with arms wide open”.
Yes. No more DD for me. ;)