An Epitaph I Write

I have never been a great handler of electronic goods. In fact, I manhandle them. Be it calculators, mobiles, laptops or remotes. Even the 300 Greeks led by Leonidas did not acquire as many scratches, incisions and gashes that I have inflicted upon my electronic possessions.

However, the Laptop suffered the most.

The keypad served more as piano reeds and hence had a circuit malfunction owing to which it had to be changed not so long ago. Time and again it smelt of Lays or of the fetid oil in which local chips are fried. Sometimes small red ants made their way on to the keypad in search of crumbs; but most were mercilessly smashed in between the dirty plastic cover and screen and remained plastered till they dried and dropped off!

And lastly and ghastly, I balanced it on my knees much like one balances a pack of cards. The precarious positioning resulted in a half-a –feet long ‘butt crack’. It meandered its way right down to one of the screw sockets. This in turn damaged the casing and the internal organs were not only exposed but also displaced.

And yet, my laptop was always special. It witnessed and recorded so much. From the sleepy small town in Odisha to the National Capital and back to my hometown…it was always there. The onslaught of mundane and not so mundane assignments, the occasional travesty of new experiences and mindless rants, my silent pal absorbed it all without complains. Besides, what would those nights be without the blaring music, the stupid bet to watch Viraana without a break or even the thrill of a pathetic film called 9 Songs because of the promise of ‘artistic sex’. In recent times, it frequently helped me to organize thoughts and churn out fictions and articles out of them; one of the best engagements of an otherwise idle brain.

And then one fine day, about two months ago, it could not bear the mechanical atyachar any more. It just wouldn’t function. The hard disk crashed, the butt crack glared at me and every time I tried to fold the screen, it made a sickening noise like the breaking of bones in a Sothern flick. On top of that, shards of black hard particles fell off like they were dried dung!

It turned 3 in the month of August. I got it back last evening after it had spent two months in a mechanic’s dusty home. Oh how I missed it. But alas I wish it had not come back at all for it went in an unconscious state and returned with its breathing restored in asthmatic spasms.

The crack is almost gone but it’s no better than a man who broke his hip. A fractured hip never gets you back your normal gait. The hard disk is re-stored but half the keys are not working. That’s as good as going for a heart transplant and ending up with failed kidneys. At times the display driver malfunctions, the scroll and cursor act crazy and weird messages are flashed.

My lappy’s  condition reminds me of Rob Schneider in The Animal! A mad doctor replaced his damaged organs with that of different animals after a major accident. Only, Rob functioned better with his newly developed heightened senses albeit with quirks while my poor laptop will live a shorter life than a Goldfish after its surgery, even if I am to handle it with utmost care (which I am).

So my dear laptop this is an advance epitaph. I can not bear to think of the day when your transplanted heart stops beating. Renal failure and Parkinson’s affliction post surgery is unheard of! But that is what has happened to you. And yet you continue to serve me. Not for long, I believe.

Sorry for manhandling and thank you for everything dear lappy.



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