<p>Refrigerators are so mundane that everyone takes them for granted, and so did I. ‘My blue fridge (MBF)’ got an inkling of this and I had the shock of my life when it went silent during coronavirus lockdown curfew. Can you imagine life without a fridge? I was not sure if a technician was on the list of ‘essential service personnel’.</p>.<p>I cursed myself for not replacing my 28-year-old fridge despite advice from my nearest and the dearest. I paced up and down impatiently, hoping for a miracle. I looked again at MBF and to say that it was full is an understatement. Was the compressor overloaded? Consequently, I spent all morning emptying and defrosting the fridge, which was required anyway. Although I was in complete despondency, I switched the fridge on and witnessed a miracle of hearing the melody of the compressor. Which was better than the best performance by T M Krishna! The melody gradually turned into its usual groan.</p>.<p>MBF has been with me for long, this model is as outdated as I am. I bought it from a local store with a serviceman who gave the feeling of being talked to by the headmaster. Installation and demonstration happened with an air of superiority that unambiguously posed the question ‘have you ever seen a fridge?’ As years passed, I noticed that MBF froze the hell out of its contents, even when on its lowest cooling option. Surreptitious observations revealed that the compressor never took breaks, as it was supposed to. A change of its relay prevented it from restlessness and suicide. A fresh coat of paint restored its dignity. Over a period of time, MBF attained the state of ‘<span class="italic">Sthithapragna</span>’ and worked relentlessly in one single setting. Whenever we moved ‘MBF’ moved along silently and survived in the hands of packers and movers.</p>.<p>I must confess that when parts of MBF failed, I was preparing myself with a heavy heart, to perform its final rites and bring in a new fridge. But its relentless performance and dedication to work changed my attitude completely. My elders used to say that throwing away things that work is an insult to those who made it. If MBF is junked, it might shatter its heart and the released CFC can contribute to further depletion of the ozone layer. We have desserts full of sweet memories and a few memories of sickness too (storing of antibiotics and vaccines). I am optimistic that MBF, in addition to being Sthithapragna, will attain immortality.</p>
<p>Refrigerators are so mundane that everyone takes them for granted, and so did I. ‘My blue fridge (MBF)’ got an inkling of this and I had the shock of my life when it went silent during coronavirus lockdown curfew. Can you imagine life without a fridge? I was not sure if a technician was on the list of ‘essential service personnel’.</p>.<p>I cursed myself for not replacing my 28-year-old fridge despite advice from my nearest and the dearest. I paced up and down impatiently, hoping for a miracle. I looked again at MBF and to say that it was full is an understatement. Was the compressor overloaded? Consequently, I spent all morning emptying and defrosting the fridge, which was required anyway. Although I was in complete despondency, I switched the fridge on and witnessed a miracle of hearing the melody of the compressor. Which was better than the best performance by T M Krishna! The melody gradually turned into its usual groan.</p>.<p>MBF has been with me for long, this model is as outdated as I am. I bought it from a local store with a serviceman who gave the feeling of being talked to by the headmaster. Installation and demonstration happened with an air of superiority that unambiguously posed the question ‘have you ever seen a fridge?’ As years passed, I noticed that MBF froze the hell out of its contents, even when on its lowest cooling option. Surreptitious observations revealed that the compressor never took breaks, as it was supposed to. A change of its relay prevented it from restlessness and suicide. A fresh coat of paint restored its dignity. Over a period of time, MBF attained the state of ‘<span class="italic">Sthithapragna</span>’ and worked relentlessly in one single setting. Whenever we moved ‘MBF’ moved along silently and survived in the hands of packers and movers.</p>.<p>I must confess that when parts of MBF failed, I was preparing myself with a heavy heart, to perform its final rites and bring in a new fridge. But its relentless performance and dedication to work changed my attitude completely. My elders used to say that throwing away things that work is an insult to those who made it. If MBF is junked, it might shatter its heart and the released CFC can contribute to further depletion of the ozone layer. We have desserts full of sweet memories and a few memories of sickness too (storing of antibiotics and vaccines). I am optimistic that MBF, in addition to being Sthithapragna, will attain immortality.</p>