Homie

The memories of one’s early life are often blurred, or forgotten. Likewise, I vaguely remember the last few chips being fused into me several years ago at Nokia inc., before I flown down here. I was a ‘State of the Art’ piece then. And I fell into the hands of a certain someone. I hopped around from one set of hands to another , for the new handset that I was, only to have m keys jabbed and my ‘cool’ features and color display checked out. I was seldom silenced by the master earlier so he could whip me out and jabber away as he walked, spoke, ate etc etc. ‘Best-seller’, wasn’t I?
‘5 deer to a lion’- is an apt comparison to life for on and all. I spent most of my time in the kerchief-cushioned pocket of my master or on the desk where he worked. He was so incomplete, or rather crippled without me. A battery drain could hammer the daylights out of his mood. For those of us with a lifespan not more than 3 years, life’s an instant boom followed by a gradual glide to stability. Not too many of us stick around for so long. I happened to be a part of my blessed master. I’ve seen him through cuts and burns and have also viewed life through rose tints alongside him. I’ve been sent crashing into beds and pillows (never walls and floors) as a result of rage. Also, I’ve received more than one wet kiss when I played mouthpiece for good news. His favorite word was ‘pass’, a word whose frequency increased later in his career, with my presence and usage, followed by a ‘high’ of all sorts. My spirits were boosted when I used to hear him groan, scream and yell generally out of pleasure. I have vague memories of jingling away in his pocket as he ran in to bowl his medium pacers. A wicket could scare crows away. This trait rubbed off. I’m cricket-mad too. I could make kites feel a streak of chill when India scored over 300.
And then one day, a wake-up alarm went unanswered and I toppled off the cliff of a table, crashing into marble. This was my first bout with disintegration. A major shake-up not uncommon in the life of a son of technology. He did rise to that, but I never quite recovered fully. For the first time, I caught a glimpse of my own mask. I was put up with, and well treated for over a month until one day a Mr. Swank came gift-wrapped. It made me shudder. However, I came to terms with it easily. Something I’d learnt from the master in time.. Within minutes, my lights were put out, never to return.
Here I am- in a dusty shelf above him with my headset entwined, alongside an old dictionary and a poor Discman who was ‘put away’ for an mp3 player.
I have company. I wish my successor luck and a long tenure …