Saturday, 29 June 2013

Flashback Time

After months of painful deprivation and mortal turmoil I feel the impending omen of a collapse. Sucked into a bottomless whirlpool of ruin the only consolation is the revival of my reading habits (three books a week). What started off as a journey full of the effervescence of the mind's hopeful imagination has fizzled out on a dark, deserted dead end in an unknown land.

Nothing symbolizes the dramatic denouement of my life than the loss of a dear friend. Owing to a location made permanent by my job, I bid farewell to 9045589130. 

It was in my second year that I sent out messages to friends and family informing them of the experiment, or so I called, of changing my service provider to Docomo. The number wasn't chosen by me, nor was I personally present when the SIM was procured. I just took the number.

We hit off immediately. I used the number like crazy. Mornings and evenings and classroom sessions by Profs, late night gossip and SOS calls back home - 9045589130 was with me through thick and thin. My life's secrets were with it and so were my recurrent failures and occasional triumphs. It was a great partnership. 

Third year brought forth an intellectual flourishing never expected by a boy completing a degree he had no intention of taking in the first place. Fourth year had dizzying heights and nauseous lows and ended with a broken leg that all but laid the foundation of my detachment from the world. 

9045589130 stood firm and solid.

It was only in the summer of 2012 that cracks in our relationship emerged. Money was never an impediment but the distance of my beloved number from its motherland took a toll I could scarcely predict. The strain was obvious; its utility had declined and it experienced black-outs when the effort to connect was too large. My faith was unwavering.

Bangalore in the year 2013 changed it all. What was then a weakness, a minor and easily ignored fissure became a gaping crack. I could only do so much to stall the doom that destiny had laid out for me.

And now that I have already bade farewell, a lingering flame of hope remains. I may go back to you, 9045589130 but you'll have to wait. Months have passed but my unflinching loyalty is unquestionable.

Farewell.

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