Mobile, anyone?

I never cease to marvel at the amazing invention that is technology, more so, ever- improving technology.
I remember days of yore (yes siree, those were the days) when the telephone was a black bulky instrument, the kind that would  probably knock a burglar out cold, with a 5 digit phone number (I still remember ours)- and the fact that it shared the first four digits with a police station often kept us entertained for the first few months.
A variety of mutations later, came the much sleeker (and infinitely more useful) cordless phone. This was a true boon, and the grand- daddy of the modern day mobile phone. This allowed one to (wow) roam across the house, breaking the shackles of the corded variety (and also opening up access to hitherto non- discussable topics like boyfriends- mind you, this was the early nineties India and we had just started getting the first taste of DD Metro and Liberalisation).
Then came the cell phone, like a heavy chunk of fresh air. I still remember the awe on my seniors' face when I placed my cherished possession on the Mess table, in my first year at MICA. 'Is that the real cell phone', one asked, and I proudly nodded, taking more pride than ever in the fact that I was my father's (spoilt) daughter. But vanity aside, it was given to me in case of emergency as I stayed several states away from them (need I add mental, as well as physical)!
Those were the golden years of mobile telephony as we paid a princely sum of Rs 16 per minute to connect, which prompted the first of bandwidth-price- VAS-wars.
The rest, as they say, is history.
Cut to present day.
I have used almost every top brand of cell phones there are, in the market- from the humble Nokia to the beautiful Motorola pebble to the business like Blackberry- I've finally found the perfect phone for the audiophile in me- the iPhone- which helps me balance my work (work email configured), social life (I'm a Facebook loyalist) home (personal emails) and self (I post blogs through my phone). 
Ladies and gentlemen, do you realise, you are being treated to a true World denizen- one that has seen mobile history being unfolded before her very eyes?
Now, if only the iPhone was available with a flap!

Faded Friendships

Just when does it happen,this slow dissolving into a blur- of that one friend you'd vowed never to leave? Does it happen when, despite all your disappointments she's unable to make it to the most joyous occasion in your life- your wedding? Or does it happen much before that, when you've just started seeing Mr Perfect and you think she won't understand, think you to be too young for a serious relationship at 23? Or does it happen even further down the road, when your choice of career forces you to travel halfway round the country, and in that new found life of independence, staying up all night and making your own decisions, she seems like the outsider? Or had it started happening even when you were together, her insistence on doing things her way, proving to be her undoing? You gather all those memories of the good times in your head as you try to re-establish contact with her. A random search on google & Facebook brings you her email id. You pick your words carefully, lest it seem patronising, or worse, dictatorial. With trepidation you hit the send button. And wait for those faded colours to become sharp again.

Choices!

Last night, I was faced with a dilemma. Since sleep eludes me most nights, I trick my system into thinking I'm brain-tired by either reading a book or playing Farmville (god bless Zynga for making it iPhone compatible). While I don't particularly relish the thought of holding my phone at an awkward angle, waiting for a full ten minutes till all the trees and animals of my large farm load, and then painstakingly identifying which trees need harvesting, using my finger to do all this- whew! My poor finger. On the other hand, if I were to read a book, I need only pick it up, flick a few pages, and am transported into another world! Besides, that old musty smell which wafts through my well-thumbed version of Little Women with it's yellowed pages- takes me back several decades to summer afternoons in my house at Lucknow, where as a little girl, I would lie besides my Granny and devour tales- both spoken and written-greedily. Sigh. It's technology vs nostalgia and guess who wins- I guess old age is creeping up on me coz I prefer my old book to virtual farming!

Alphabet World

 "I love writing.  I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human emotions." - James Michener. Indeed. Sometimes thoughts form and vaporise so quickly that they are killed in nascency by the non emergence of words fast enough to bear fruition. I love the slight clack of the keys of my laptop as the sea of black words gobbles up the whiteness of a new page. I'm fascinated by the way my phone's virtual keyboard pops up the minute I command it to- a battalion of rectangular soldiers waiting to takeover the ruled notepaper, the pronounced tick of the keyboard a clarion call of victory. The more I read, the more I want to write- about anything. And everything. As long as I can remember, I've been living in an alternate world where alphabets are people- and where R is the ruling queen and V is her King. All the 24 others including oft-used punctuation marks like full stop, comma and semi colon and the humble dash are courtiers, occupying large, ornate, velvet encrusted chairs. Each day we hold court, listening to cases where grammatical errors result in (no, not 'off with her head') but Off with her hand/ Tongue as the case may be! It's a beautiful world- Alphabet Land!    

Life is like Fruit Bread

With due apologies to Forrest Gump and his mother, I herein present my case:
There is something so humbly appealing about this piece of food that it never ceases to surprise me.

Consider this: a plain looking, almost yellowed loaf, cut neatly into slices (so you can enjoy it's wholesomeness bit by bite) with a crumbly flaky browned crust, caressing the plain surface, dotted- right in the middle of the warm, all encompassing sweet smelling surface with tiny little figs and currants.

Best eaten with generous sheets of plain butter, the saltiness of butter makes an enviable companion to the naturally effusive slight sweetness of the bread.

The deep figs and emerald currants are like surprises which you didn't really expect and are chanced upon with happiness, filling your mouth with amazing sweetness a shade higher than the present flavour of the bread.

As you devour piece by piece, this wonderful creation of bakers, you cannot help but draw a parallel to life: isn't our life like fruit bread? It seems plain but the figs and currants are God's sweet surprises that He springs upon us, filling our life with unexpected sweetness!

Forgiven, not forgotten.

I am one of those few unluckies who have their wisdom teeth growing parallel to the jaw. Yes, you read right- teeth and parallel.
Each year, it is the turn of one of these teeth, to assert their rights inside my mouth, from under the skin, by impacting some other tooth. Last year, it was Mr. Left (for who else from the species, but an irritating man, would refuse to take the hint and just stop pestering), this year, it is Mr. Right.
Mr. Right sought admission in my life about three weeks ago. What first started as a persistent dull ache on the right side of my face (leaving me to scaredly believe I was contracting some kind of nerve paralysis) became a full blown hammer-like pain in my right molar. An expensive trip to the ENT specialist (for I felt maybe it was the eustachian tube which had become infected again after a round of extra spicy paani puris) and an even more expensive one to the dentist (who thoughtfully suggested sawing through the gum, drilling into the bone and then extracting the tooth) left me with no other alternative but to gulp down painkillers and antibiotics. In the meanwhile, Mr. Right has extended his territory to other parts of my head as well. He just springs up, unannounced, ready to sweep me off my eyes with excruciating pain.
Needless to add that Mr. Right has been wooed by all home remedies of laung, cough syrup, warm salt water gargles which have been ruthlessly discarded by him.
I am watching it again. Today he is at the top of my skull, a pain which seeps out when poked.
How many more days to go, till he is forgotten?

The 1st. Again!

There's something positive about the 1st day of each month. It signals the refuelling of one's bank account, a set of new challenges to drive sale in recessionary times and the monthly update feature I've started recently, in order to make my team feel good about themselves.
Their reciprocal joy that I see translated into words as I praise them is often grammatically incorrect, but so from-the-heart that I'm willing to overlook those bugs just this once.
Another good thing about the 1st day in each month is that it brings me a little closer to my ordained goal, that God has set out for me, and is making me sweat it out impatiently.
I bet he is sitting on his woolly cloudy sofa right now, watching me, as I type this, knowing exactly what is going on in my mind, and mentally calculating to himself how much more time, till my patience gives up completely. But herein lies the catch, for he does not know that I draw all my patience just by remembering Him, looking at His idols and chanting His name, fleetingly, several times a day!
So here's to many more Firsts...and many more challenges!