00:29IST
Room with the table fan, Inderpuri
New Delhi, India
So I have this Macbook Air, a super light, super smooth 'top' electronic device with a screen and a keyboard sitting on my lap. It's been sitting on my lap for over a month now. For someone who belongs to a generation that worships work by tapping on keys instead of scrawling on sheets, I feel proud of what I own. That's a lie. I don't really own it. I just use it all the time. It belongs to a colleague at work, who gave it to me the minute I asked if he had a spare one. People don't give Apple products like that. It isn't an apple, you know. It's Apple. But the sweet soul gave it, sans charger. So I needed a charger. And I bought one, today. That's the real story, really.
Apple has a cult following. Cult is a small group of ardent fans of a phenomena, brand, band, thing. Hence Apple products tend to be expensive. Cult buys it no matter the price. This one charger I needed for a three-year old Air (love the way we capitalize Air and Apple - making them all haughty and happie) was for INR6000. My meagre income does not allow such fancy expenses. I needed the charger though. Hence I needed an alternative. In comes OLX.com - a website where buyers and sellers of electronic products meet and make merry. Found a number that stated 'used Apple mac charger in good condition for INR1500' I read it thrice - the number of zeroes. (never ceases to amaze me, the way zero can change your life). I still couldn't believe it. I wanted to call that number. It began with an 8. 8 is a gentle-looking digit. The bullshitter in my head coaxed me to punch the number. I called. The ring rang thrice. A man gave a short 'hello' on the other end. A conversation ensued. The important bit was his voice. Gentle, uncertain, pathetic. Trusting. He sounded quite pathetic when he said 'haan, mera Macbook chori ho gaya tha. Charger reh gaya. Ek saal purana hai.' (yes, my Macbook was stolen, and the charger was left behind. It's a year old). He sounded so uncertain when he said 'I live near Badarpur, and I work in Gurgaon. Don't know if I will ever come to Hauz Khas Village (where I work). I liked it. The bullshitter in my head coaxed me to trust it. That's the real story, really. I asked him if we could meet today. He was uncertain again. 'Kitne baje tak aayengi aap?' 'Metro par miloon?' (What time would you reach? Are you going to meet me at the metro station?) I wanted to pull his cheeks. Voice made him sound like a man with big fluffy cheeks. I left early. En-route Tuglakabad metro station on the very violet line, a little girl with a big tummy was dancing holding the train's pole. Her shimmy moved to the beats of 'Sheila ki Jawani' in my head for some reason. Ugh. After dancing, she looked up at the train station names and spelt out G-o-v-i-n-d-p-u-r-i. Then pronounced the word and did a little dance as she said it. Second child in two days noticed to be dancing to an internal song. Are we all dancing to a tune in our heads? I know I am.
As I reached the station, I got a call from the Voice. He asked me to meet him in a car parked just outside the station. For the first time in the day, I had a minor panic attack. Why is he calling me in his car? Can't he meet me at the metro station? Problem of parking, he stated. My head began to churn - thought after thought. So if he kidnaps me? Must not get inside the car. So if he makes a grab at my wallet? Let it go. If he makes a grab at my laptop (will have to take it out to check if the charger works) Really, let it go. And what if he throws acid on me? Froze. What kind of a sadist would weave such a tale. Shutup. Just don't get inside the car. So I went. A silver Skoda just outside the metro station at 7pm. Reached the car. Tapped on the window. A man - with big fluffy cheeks turned his head toward me and smiled. Rolled down the window. I smiled. A relief. It was the cheeks this time. Got out my laptop. Got it checked. Paid the money. Thanked him. Farewelled him. Happiness. I got a charger for a dirt cheap price!
Not such a wanker of a day after all. Despite the pimping that is my job.
Room with the table fan, Inderpuri
New Delhi, India
So I have this Macbook Air, a super light, super smooth 'top' electronic device with a screen and a keyboard sitting on my lap. It's been sitting on my lap for over a month now. For someone who belongs to a generation that worships work by tapping on keys instead of scrawling on sheets, I feel proud of what I own. That's a lie. I don't really own it. I just use it all the time. It belongs to a colleague at work, who gave it to me the minute I asked if he had a spare one. People don't give Apple products like that. It isn't an apple, you know. It's Apple. But the sweet soul gave it, sans charger. So I needed a charger. And I bought one, today. That's the real story, really.
Apple has a cult following. Cult is a small group of ardent fans of a phenomena, brand, band, thing. Hence Apple products tend to be expensive. Cult buys it no matter the price. This one charger I needed for a three-year old Air (love the way we capitalize Air and Apple - making them all haughty and happie) was for INR6000. My meagre income does not allow such fancy expenses. I needed the charger though. Hence I needed an alternative. In comes OLX.com - a website where buyers and sellers of electronic products meet and make merry. Found a number that stated 'used Apple mac charger in good condition for INR1500' I read it thrice - the number of zeroes. (never ceases to amaze me, the way zero can change your life). I still couldn't believe it. I wanted to call that number. It began with an 8. 8 is a gentle-looking digit. The bullshitter in my head coaxed me to punch the number. I called. The ring rang thrice. A man gave a short 'hello' on the other end. A conversation ensued. The important bit was his voice. Gentle, uncertain, pathetic. Trusting. He sounded quite pathetic when he said 'haan, mera Macbook chori ho gaya tha. Charger reh gaya. Ek saal purana hai.' (yes, my Macbook was stolen, and the charger was left behind. It's a year old). He sounded so uncertain when he said 'I live near Badarpur, and I work in Gurgaon. Don't know if I will ever come to Hauz Khas Village (where I work). I liked it. The bullshitter in my head coaxed me to trust it. That's the real story, really. I asked him if we could meet today. He was uncertain again. 'Kitne baje tak aayengi aap?' 'Metro par miloon?' (What time would you reach? Are you going to meet me at the metro station?) I wanted to pull his cheeks. Voice made him sound like a man with big fluffy cheeks. I left early. En-route Tuglakabad metro station on the very violet line, a little girl with a big tummy was dancing holding the train's pole. Her shimmy moved to the beats of 'Sheila ki Jawani' in my head for some reason. Ugh. After dancing, she looked up at the train station names and spelt out G-o-v-i-n-d-p-u-r-i. Then pronounced the word and did a little dance as she said it. Second child in two days noticed to be dancing to an internal song. Are we all dancing to a tune in our heads? I know I am.
As I reached the station, I got a call from the Voice. He asked me to meet him in a car parked just outside the station. For the first time in the day, I had a minor panic attack. Why is he calling me in his car? Can't he meet me at the metro station? Problem of parking, he stated. My head began to churn - thought after thought. So if he kidnaps me? Must not get inside the car. So if he makes a grab at my wallet? Let it go. If he makes a grab at my laptop (will have to take it out to check if the charger works) Really, let it go. And what if he throws acid on me? Froze. What kind of a sadist would weave such a tale. Shutup. Just don't get inside the car. So I went. A silver Skoda just outside the metro station at 7pm. Reached the car. Tapped on the window. A man - with big fluffy cheeks turned his head toward me and smiled. Rolled down the window. I smiled. A relief. It was the cheeks this time. Got out my laptop. Got it checked. Paid the money. Thanked him. Farewelled him. Happiness. I got a charger for a dirt cheap price!
Not such a wanker of a day after all. Despite the pimping that is my job.
