6 May 2010

Missing my Nokia E71

I have been missing my Nokia E71. It allowed me to illustrate my blog with pictures or just to capture those unmissable moments of my little girl's growing years.

For six months, it had been a loyal and able gadget. It allowed me to make calls and send SMSes, take pictures and videos, keep notes and reminders and then go off to sleep around 9.00 or so in the night. At 7.30 or so next morning, it would wake up again.

I suspect it was hearing my conversations with friends. I couldn't get through to you last night? The phone was switched off. Why do you do that? Why do you keep your phone on all the time? What if someone is trying to reach you? People from work can wait until the next morning. What about friends or relatives? They are aware that I have a landline and can reach me anytime on that number.

A week ago, the Nokia E71 it fell out of my hands. When I picked it up, it seemed like a different phone. It would refuse to go to sleep. Whenever the red button on the top was pushed, it would reboot itself. It would take a quick nap when I pulled the battery out. Then it would wake up with a start when the battery went back in.

Serves you right, my closest friend remarked. Now you can't switch the phone off. I panicked like someone would if their phone died suddenly. There is no way it can be switched on always. There is no way I can allow people to intrude on my family time.

It would only take a day or two to set the problem right, said my office IT guy. That seemed like no time at all. Surely I could survive that time without my contact numbers and reminders and notes and camera and sound recorder and.........

It has been a week since and there is no sign of the phone coming back to me.

It would have been wonderful to have it handy on Wednesday evening. The little one wanted to have "pizza" for dinner and made us visit the Pizza Hut in Vasant Vihar. The place looks like any other Pizza Hut around the world, but has its own local touch.

The sour-cream that comes with the Potato Wedges is so diluted that it could technically qualify as sour-sauce. The mustard is neither British nor French. Heck, it isn't even a concoction of the two. The Potato Wedges barely cover the bottom of the bowl it comes in and the Pepperoni Pizza is more like "Cheese Pizza with Sprinkled Pepperoni"!!

But these aren't things that bother the little one. She was just excited being out. Kicking off her Crocs, she perched herself on the cushioned chair. Given the low level of the chairs, this gave her the flexibility to stand up to reach her drink and pizza.

She surveyed the area around her, had a good look at the menu and then set about describing how her day went. She was in a talkative mood and I would have loved to capture some of that on the camera.

I want see a picture now, she said after the meal. Her Mum said the hall wasn't screening a kids' movie, but a grown up one. Don't worry. I can see a grown-up movie tonight. So, what about school tomorrow. Oh, I will see the film and then sleep. Tomorrow I will wake up and go to school.

I so wish the E71 was back with me. It has videos from our Kerala trip, her birthday, when she was locked in a park and her pretending to read a colouring book. Each video shows how much she has grown in our time here. Each video is a reminder how quickly the time is passing.

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