Skip to main content

My Nokia is stolen

This was a sombre day for me as I lost my very first phone. I had decided to bunk office today and this to prove a costly mistake. I won't go into the details of how my Nokia 6681 was stolen since the blame would then fall squarely on the one and only suspect. Instead, I'll recount how the theft was discovered.

While surfing the Net in the morning, I came to know of the launch of YouTube Mobile. I was happy to learn that I would have one more experiment to do before terminating my Hutch Access subscription. I put my mobile on charge. A few things happened during this period that I won't delve into. I soon indulged in some TV and newspaper.

It was only late in the afternoon after lunch that I suddenly remembered trying YouTube on my phone. Alarm bells rang when I discovered it missing. I was thrown into a tizzy as Mantu and I frantically tried to locate my phone. Now I'm usually very clumsy with things, but I've been vary careful with my mobile all this while.

We tried to locate our phone with a missed call from Mantu's phone. No response. That's when I realized luck had finally caught up with me. Many of my friends in Bangalore have lost their phones a lot sooner and I had begun to wonder how long Lady Luck would favor me. Well, I got the answer today!

I blocked my SIM by reporting the incident to Hutch. Now though I hate using the phone, it had become an indispensable part of my life. Making do without it for even a few days is almost unimaginable. And since any possibility of recovering my 6681 was next to remote, I thought of buying a replacement phone in the evening.

I bought the Nokia N72 for Rs.10,850 from Big Bazaar after visiting two other outlets. The guys manning the counter had a tough time struggling through their long and tedious process of clearing the purchase. For convenience, they had to revert to the age-old and manual comfort of pen and paper. I wonder just how much of convenience lies in modern day amenities.

I also intended to buy a pouch (the original was stolen along with my 6681) and a Sandisk 1G memory card. While I did manage to procure the pouch, the memory card was not yet listed in the counter database (the list price was around Rs.1,5oo), and so was not bought. It's funny how organized retail works here. I felt like having cleared the customs after the mobile and pouch were successfully purchased. What relief!

(It's getting very late as I type this post. I'll add more content later. If I know you, may I please have you number?)

Comments

Anonymous said…
Dude,
I know how intimately you were bonded with the phone! Sad incident. Anyways,keep in touch and good luck for your Java ventures.

Arun.PC@9886403950
Deepanjan said…
Thanks! I have your number now.
Vivek said…
I was the victim of mobile theft a month back. Sittu had his nicked a month before mine. Welcome to the club, Deep. I'll send my number via email.
Deepanjan said…
I still can't get over my 6681. It seems like yesterday when I bought the phone. Even the package lies intact.

Popular posts from this blog

This is what Bertrand Russell said about religion...

Religion is based, I think, primarily and mainly upon fear. It is partly the terror of the unknown and partly, as I have said, the wish to feel that you have a kind of elder brother who will stand by you in all your troubles and disputes. ... A good world needs knowledge, kindliness, and courage; it does not need a regretful hankering after the past or a fettering of the free intelligence by the words uttered long ago by ignorant men.

The year that was

I'm wearing a rather striking shirt, one that makes me feel like a clown fooling around in a graveyard. Roving eyes latch on to me and make me too conscious of myself. Checkered in red, grey, black and maroon, I've excused myself into donning it and looking silly for two reasons. It's Friday and…more importantly, the last working day of the year. Tailored half-a-year back, I never had the courage to wear it, not until today. It's that time of the year when it's time to reflect on the events that transpired. Last year ended on the worst possible note. Dad had expired and I was numb with shock. The repercussions rippled halfway thought this year. Things were so abysmal initially that I had lost the will to live. Acrid in everything I did, I was immensely angered by time phlegmatically flowing through its cadence. It was as if Dad meant nothing to anybody. What right did people have to live the way they always had when Dad was no more? Why was much of the world still