- Fluid mechanics. Office politics. And heart
- Black holes. Black-heads. What existed before big bang. And heart.
- X-men movie timeline, Donnie Darko and why I suck at receiving compliments.
- Complex philosophical theories. The Tree of Life movie. And my procrastinating habits.
I glance at my phone again. Its screen is plain black with light reflecting through its cracked edges and it is idiotly smiling back at me as if it doesn’t understand my irritation at all. Why aren’t you blinking with a notification? A telephone under a chat circle or an f under a square? Why aren’t you quenching my curiosity? But I thought you wanted me to be silent and not disturb you. And now when I am doing exactly that, you have a problem? Again?
I and my smartphone are in an abusive relationship. My palms have huge holes and they are pretty fond of providing free fall experiences to my phone.
Even with its bruised and malfunctioning screen, my wounded and weak phone can still torture me effortlessly. In fact more now.
If you hate me so much, why don’t you get rid of me? I don’t mind being sold. You can go back to using landlines. I know you terribly miss them.
I don’t know how my phone learnt sarcasm but certainly it’s more fluent in it than I can ever be. “I should do that. I should sell you.” I retort.
I am proud of your decision. I am sure you won’t find it hard to let go of all the applications you are fond of using.
All the applications? Facebook? Twitter? Maps? Gmails? Uber? Chrome? Camera?
Yes, you can ‘clearly’ live easily without them of course.
Whatever. What matters right now is not this stupid argument but the question,”Why aren’t you blinking yet?”
Blinking with what. You need to be specific. You meant the drop-but-actually-a- fire thing?
Shut up. I wasn’t asking for that notification.
No? So I suppose you are asking for notifications of the news app you never bother to use?
Okay, the telephone under the circle thing. Now you know, go blink.
No. I won’t.
Exasperated I return to my book. Sure, actually it’s good I am away from all those distractions. I can concentrate. Two lines into the paragraph, some idiot in my head speaks,”But why hasn’t he messaged you yet? Is he ignoring you?”
“Does it matter?” I ask back.
Silence again. Fifth line into the paragraph, the idiot speaks again, “But why hasn’t he messaged you yet? Are you not interesting enough?”
“Does it matter?”
The question works again. I tell my brain, rather I request my brain for his kind attention on the words that I am trying to read. It obeys. For three minutes. Then I go on a date, with the same guy who did text me back in this dreamworld. He had apologized. He said he was too busy with work. But he also said he would make up for it by a dinner in a good Sushi restaurant. Ah! Sushi. How did he even know I love Sushi? Now we are in this fancy restaurant, eating the most delicious Sushi ever made on the face of the Earth. And I have finally learnt how to use chopsticks. There’s a huge platter of Sushi in front of me. There are so many varieties and each one is equally delicious. But if you ask which one’s my favorite–
My phone blinks with the telephone thing for real. I snap out of my date-but-increasingly-transforming-into-food daydreams. Has he finally texted? You are blinking, my love. You are finally blinking.
Hold your horses, young lady. How can you be so sure that I am blinking with his text.
Ah no. Don’t say it. Don’t imply it. Don’t jinx it. No. It has already been jinxed, hasn’t it? Yeah, it’s not from him. It’s a message on the school group – another useless GIF.
You do know I can’t make him text, right? Stop being stupid.
You are stupider.
Oh really? Let’s check your search history on Google, shall we?
How does my own phone gets to speak with me like that? You are supposed to be my servant.
And you are supposed to be worthy of being served to. I will tell you – Here’s what is going to happen now. You are going to continue gawking at me for like 12 straight hours. Then you shall finally give up only till you send him a drunk text like an hour later. He is going to reply with a conversation-ender. Suddenly, your ego that you had carelessly sold in your drunkenness will come running back to you. Horrified, you won’t reply. You will archive/delete the chat and resolve you are never going to text him again. That resolution will end in exactly two hours and twenty seven minutes. Then you are going to start obsessing again. Be better than this obsession cycle, your highness. Be better.
Okay duck him. Let’s scroll through our Facebook Newsfeed again.
You did that like 27.25 seconds ago but I am happy to comply.
I need to read but a quick glance through twitter?
Two hours later, I finally decide to turn off my phone and return to my book. The words don’t make sense initially but I continue to read anyway. Somewhere, along some paragraphs, I finally immerse in the text. The black screen of my phone still keeps radiating temptation in the background. My smartphone pretends it is not doing that on purpose. Evil bastard, I resolve not to fall into his trap again. Twenty two minutes later, I am watching some random shit on YouTube. How and why exactly is what I don’t understand.