Mobile Phone
I never really wanted a cell phone when I was in school. I thought they were unnecesary, ornamental, pointless devices which, in a school-going kid's hands, were nothing more than a gamble of many thousands of rupees which his/her parents were brave enough to take.
Really, where was the need? There was a phone (two, actually) ready to use whenever the students wanted to contact their folks back home, and one couldnt complain that the campus was too big to walk all the way to the office, because it really wasnt, and it wasnt like locating a friend was such a herculean task, because of the aforementioned, so the phone held no use in both these regards.
Moreover, there were lowlife criminals in the guise of decent students ready to flick the costly instruments these people carried, causing tears, empty pockets, and wastage of energy through shouted words.
Rather hopelssly, the teachers would occasionally ask the students carrying phones to hand them over, which is like addressing a crowd of people in a market-place and asking all the pick-pockets to please step away from the rest. Completley, and utterly pointless.
So I really could'nt see the point of taking all that risk for no gain. Moreover, my parents wouldnt get me one until I finished school, so there.
So once I completed school, I was entrusted with this beautiful phone that my father had been using for a while. It wasnt the latest model, but it was big, had a keyboard, and was as solid as the western ghats. You could hurl it at a wall and nothing would happen to it. It laughed away all the bashings and shocks that the daily usage of a careless student threw at it, and did not give a single problem, and didnt seem like it was ever going to. I vowed never to let it go, swore that it was going to be my phone forever. Then I caught a bus to bangalore, rode 15 hours in a car to Goa, lost it, and came back. And felt like I was a bit dim.
Then I persuaded my father to buy me a new phone, and he did, and it was a Motorola, and it looked fantastic, like it was very costly, which it wasnt, because it was an absolute bargain. And, sadly, it isnt very good.
It dosent have a keyboard, for starters. So the messages have to be typed out using the number pad. Which is a bit of a problem for me. While my friends could type messages as long as the entire 'Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix' in about 5 seconds, I fumble, search for keys and dither around in my new phone. And the fact that it has a bumbling, dimwitted sofware dosent help either.
And recently, the phone has started hanging, and switching off, on its own accord. In other words, its started being an absolute pain in the wrong kind of place. When it works, its frustrating, and slow, and gets on your nerves. When it dosent, well, it dosent.
I want my old Nokia 6800 back. If you have seen it, do tell me when and where.
Really, where was the need? There was a phone (two, actually) ready to use whenever the students wanted to contact their folks back home, and one couldnt complain that the campus was too big to walk all the way to the office, because it really wasnt, and it wasnt like locating a friend was such a herculean task, because of the aforementioned, so the phone held no use in both these regards.
Moreover, there were lowlife criminals in the guise of decent students ready to flick the costly instruments these people carried, causing tears, empty pockets, and wastage of energy through shouted words.
Rather hopelssly, the teachers would occasionally ask the students carrying phones to hand them over, which is like addressing a crowd of people in a market-place and asking all the pick-pockets to please step away from the rest. Completley, and utterly pointless.
So I really could'nt see the point of taking all that risk for no gain. Moreover, my parents wouldnt get me one until I finished school, so there.
So once I completed school, I was entrusted with this beautiful phone that my father had been using for a while. It wasnt the latest model, but it was big, had a keyboard, and was as solid as the western ghats. You could hurl it at a wall and nothing would happen to it. It laughed away all the bashings and shocks that the daily usage of a careless student threw at it, and did not give a single problem, and didnt seem like it was ever going to. I vowed never to let it go, swore that it was going to be my phone forever. Then I caught a bus to bangalore, rode 15 hours in a car to Goa, lost it, and came back. And felt like I was a bit dim.
Then I persuaded my father to buy me a new phone, and he did, and it was a Motorola, and it looked fantastic, like it was very costly, which it wasnt, because it was an absolute bargain. And, sadly, it isnt very good.
It dosent have a keyboard, for starters. So the messages have to be typed out using the number pad. Which is a bit of a problem for me. While my friends could type messages as long as the entire 'Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix' in about 5 seconds, I fumble, search for keys and dither around in my new phone. And the fact that it has a bumbling, dimwitted sofware dosent help either.
And recently, the phone has started hanging, and switching off, on its own accord. In other words, its started being an absolute pain in the wrong kind of place. When it works, its frustrating, and slow, and gets on your nerves. When it dosent, well, it dosent.
I want my old Nokia 6800 back. If you have seen it, do tell me when and where.
posted by islero88 at 8:25 AM
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