Thursday, January 13, 2011

My Apple iPod

Ours was an arranged match, a blind alliance. She entered my life early last year and my heart skipped a few beats when i held her on my palm. She was glossy, shiny, black, small and super cute. For me, it was love at first sight. I knew I had to take care of her and educate her musically. She soon became my best friend, soul sister and confidante. She understood my anxieties and had a tune for all my moods.

And then I committed a terrible crime. I left her behind on a rushed holiday and for six months I missed her terribly. Waking up every morning for a jog, seemed like an ordeal without her. My soul was filled with a void. Nothing could replace her. I tried finding solace in my mobile phone's FM radio stations, but I began missing my iPod even more.

I was finally able to reunite with her three weeks ago and I apologized profusely to her tiny face for neglecting her. My life was complete again and then something happened. I tugged her USB cable out of my laptop while she was charging without hitting on the "Eject" option. Hours later I tried turning her on, but she remained motionless. I tried for fifteen heart-breaking minutes and nothing happened. She was dead and I was responsible.

I cried for a long time, wondering what to do. I had lost her again. I finally mustered enough courage to explain what happened to a tech junkie and he laughed on hearing me sob hysterically. He had the older version of my baby and apparently the same thing had happened to him as well. He asked me to keep two buttons pressed for six seconds and then i saw a faint appley smile light up her face.

I thanked the stars and the boy who saved my iPod's life. A special mention of the person who brought this tiny piece of eternal joy into my life, my big brother Swaroop Mohanlal or better known as Swaroo Schettan.

1 comment:

S said...

I was flooded with my own memories of loosing a phone (Nokia 6300) back in 2007. I felt shattered.

I can truly understand what you are saying. Take care of her.