2011 was a year of technological disasters at the home-front. Or, something like that.
The DELL, that was passed on from the elder brother, almost like a heritage, had to be put to rest because of an unintended forced feeding of 'dal' (Indian soup made of pulses). It was a sad day to part with it, and so the status update of her social networking site read : R.I.P. The DELL that had dal. There is a rumour, that,the DELL might experience a resurrection back in Kolkata. But that is still a rumour her in Ha Noi.
What isn't a rumour anymore, is that, another piece of handed down heritage, a NOKIA 2630, had its memory washed away in the washing machine. It just happened, unintended. The blogger washed her clothes with the mobile phone in one of the pockets. Earlier, she had washed clothes with cash notes, bus tickets, safety-pins and ... Well that's the list as far as it can be remembered.
The mobile phone was not much in use here in Ha Noi anyway.It was rarely used to make or receive calls. Ah yes, there were a few intense sessions of international calling and SMS-ing friends in Ha Noi. But that was it with regards to the facility a mobile phone is supposed to provide.
It was however used for one other thing. For recording suddenly sprouted moments of poetry in the form of drafts. When standing at the red light, when travelling in the bus, when waiting for a train, and more regularly, for saving the last poetic thoughts that occur just before she fell asleep. The last instance had become a regular phenomenon almost. It was discomforting to lose any poetic phrases or verses, or even whole poetic pieces in the darkness of the night. The blogger was too lazy to put on the light and scribble them onto the scrapbook at least. She used to half-open her eyelids (often of one eye only) and grope for her mobile on the side table and save the poetry as a draft message in it.
Though all the data in the DELL laptop was safely recovered, she has little hope of recovering the lost poetries saved as drafts. Drafts they were, but to lose a bunch of words that had appeared in the most potent moments of silence grieves the blogger. However, ironically, this seems to be the perfect start of the year in which she has a resolution of living each day as it is, each moment as it is (read about the magic of new year here).
Each day has its own sunrise and sunset, moonrise and moonfade. Some poetries are best washed away, while some are lost in that washing. But today is another day. And life is about keeping the doors open. The blogger plans to stitch a welcome poem for the new arrivals this season.
What are YOU welcoming this season??
Image: a half submerged boat in Phi Phi Islands, Thailand © Susmita Paul 2011-2012.
The DELL, that was passed on from the elder brother, almost like a heritage, had to be put to rest because of an unintended forced feeding of 'dal' (Indian soup made of pulses). It was a sad day to part with it, and so the status update of her social networking site read : R.I.P. The DELL that had dal. There is a rumour, that,the DELL might experience a resurrection back in Kolkata. But that is still a rumour her in Ha Noi.
What isn't a rumour anymore, is that, another piece of handed down heritage, a NOKIA 2630, had its memory washed away in the washing machine. It just happened, unintended. The blogger washed her clothes with the mobile phone in one of the pockets. Earlier, she had washed clothes with cash notes, bus tickets, safety-pins and ... Well that's the list as far as it can be remembered.
The mobile phone was not much in use here in Ha Noi anyway.It was rarely used to make or receive calls. Ah yes, there were a few intense sessions of international calling and SMS-ing friends in Ha Noi. But that was it with regards to the facility a mobile phone is supposed to provide.
It was however used for one other thing. For recording suddenly sprouted moments of poetry in the form of drafts. When standing at the red light, when travelling in the bus, when waiting for a train, and more regularly, for saving the last poetic thoughts that occur just before she fell asleep. The last instance had become a regular phenomenon almost. It was discomforting to lose any poetic phrases or verses, or even whole poetic pieces in the darkness of the night. The blogger was too lazy to put on the light and scribble them onto the scrapbook at least. She used to half-open her eyelids (often of one eye only) and grope for her mobile on the side table and save the poetry as a draft message in it.
Though all the data in the DELL laptop was safely recovered, she has little hope of recovering the lost poetries saved as drafts. Drafts they were, but to lose a bunch of words that had appeared in the most potent moments of silence grieves the blogger. However, ironically, this seems to be the perfect start of the year in which she has a resolution of living each day as it is, each moment as it is (read about the magic of new year here).
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| it is the tide :) |
Each day has its own sunrise and sunset, moonrise and moonfade. Some poetries are best washed away, while some are lost in that washing. But today is another day. And life is about keeping the doors open. The blogger plans to stitch a welcome poem for the new arrivals this season.
What are YOU welcoming this season??
Image: a half submerged boat in Phi Phi Islands, Thailand © Susmita Paul 2011-2012.
