Cellphone Story

I bought a new cellphone last month. The newly acquired one was not of my old usual kinds; but with its touch screen facilities, and android type options, you could really call it a gadget, with a capital G. I found it at the city’s busiest shopping mall, after a thorough search through newspaper ads, and after sharpening my ears for expert opinions. But before going to buy it, I had a plan to discuss the shopkeeper about some exchange options. If my existing cell phone, which had only some minor facilities, and which was cheaper, would help me to earn a few rupees, I would have thought about giving it to him to get the new cell phone at a price slightly (or greatly) lowered from its normal market price. Moreover, I didn’t find any reason in keeping that old cellphone with me when I was going to purchase an advanced one.

With these thoughts in mind, I set off during that hot noon time aiming that particular shop located in one of the busiest malls in my current city; and yes, exactly on my sincere bike!  But while approaching the destination, meters by meters, I found myself fallen in a deep pit of hesitation. Should I exchange my old cell phone, for just a few rupees, which could make only a minor sum, comparing to the fairly bigger amount that I was going to pay for the new one? The existing phone, though was an old one and was one of the cheapest ones of the whole lot of mobiles when it was bought, had been with me for nearly two years, giving me company often in my isolation, and in my private moments. I used to take a snap wherever I went or whoever I met, using its low quality camera, to keep a record of the time and places that I transited. These thoughts put my mind in a deep state of confusion, because of this particular kind of emotional attachment I used to share with any inanimate thing which I come into contact with for somewhat long period of time. But, the wheels of destiny led me without any breakage in my forward momentum till I reached the cellphone shop.

I asked the shopkeeper about a possible exchange option. He took my cell phone and scrutinized it for a moment by turning it over and over again. “Let me see”, he mused and went to another man who was sitting in one of the corners of the shop. I became very disturbed about the thought of a probable parting with my old device. He soon returned, and gave it me back, saying that it couldn’t be exchanged, because its inner parts were soaked. 

I sighed with relief, silently thanking to my one year old bike journey from Trivandrum to Cochin wetting in the rain all the way through some 200 kilometers. It was during that journey, my old cell phone had soaked wet in that rain, and thus became unusable for any shop owner who sought second hand cell phones.

Now, that old cell phone is thrown carelessly to one of the corners of my room, and is happily resting there while maintaining an old emotional, invisible, telepathic attachment with its master, like in the olden days.