Smartphone saga

Within minutes, the sticky liquid seeped into my phone's motherboard and ruined it.

“New phone folks!” I posted in all my WhatsApp groups and to my contacts at 11 pm. A few photos of the new phone from all angles duly accompanied it. Congratulatory messages with “wow” followed and I painstakingly typed “thanks” with a smile or a kiss according to the gender! Those who slept early would reply in the morning, I knew.

Hubby dearest had strictly forbidden me from posting it on Facebook, which I couldn’t disobey as he was my friend and husband there, too! (FB proudly acclaimed my married status each time someone looked up on my wall). However, WhatsApp was hubby-free, so I flaunted my new possession.

“Be careful with this one at least!” came a few cautiounary messages. People who knew me well knew what would happen in the next few weeks, if not days. Yes, a psychiatrist would be called in to assess my ability to ruin smartphones with alarming regularity. A deep-rooted grudge carried over from my past life? A disorder which hadn’t been named or explored yet? A mania caused by bad wiring or simply a case of butter fingers?

The prasada given at the temple was a mixture of banana, honey and milk. Delicious and tasty, it was packed in a ziplock cover. But unfortunately, it started leaking by the time we reached home.  Within a few minutes, the sticky liquid had seeped into my phone, its motherboard and ruined it. A month-old phone, it was now irreparable. To someone, namely the better half, who had seen much more stupid mistakes, this was nothing unexpected or worrisome.

“Oh, a month already without dropping it in all kinds of liquids, surfaces, le-aving it all over the place etc? I must congratulate you and the phone for successfully completing one month together.” As his tone turned menacing, I thanked my stars that he didn’t remember that within 24 hours, I had dropped it twice and it had nearly escaped being scalded by hot milk as I overturned the just-off- the stove vessel on the kitchen counter.

My previous (mis)adventures with mobile phones include dropping it in a bowl of soup, into a bucket full of soapy suds, almost in the washing machine and so on. Not to mention, getting wet in the rain while Sonu Nigam crooned in my ears. From that day on, I stopped using earphones while driving two wheelers in the rain! Incidentally, I wonder why mobile phones lose their charm in water and rain while our heroines glow and prosper in wet climes.

Dropping the mobile phone while talking animatedly is an oft repeated thing now. Cell phones, pens, handkerchiefs, keys – all seem to mysteriously land up on the floor or go missing while I carry them. I often feel that we should have a sensor for everything, for people like me who keep misplacing things.

I can’t forget that once when the ph-one jumped out of my pocket as the auto driver jammed the brakes suddenly. On the crowded road, it was crushed under a number of vehicles. I looked at it sadly and braced myself for another round of mobile buying. Incidentally, the person who is enjoying my antics is the friendly neighbourhood mobile retailer. People like me are his source of assured income.