Although I wish to think of myself as someone with a
literary bent of mind, a few days back when my 'Idiot Box' crashed, I found
myself fretting, fuming and at a loss for what seemed like a very important
part of my life - mindless
entertainment. The following is a tribute to what turns out to be an
indispensable fixture in my life....so, read on......
In the past few days, an eerie silence has prevailed over my tiny studio apartment. It has been a silence which resembles the lull that engulfs a battlefield after the battle is long over or the quiescence which is associated with a placid lake on a breeze-less summer day. This silence is solely attributed to the unfortunate event that occurred last Thursday. As I awoke to the persistent chirping of a sparrow on my window sill and habitually reached out for the TV remote, I realized that my television had stopped displaying the arrays of amusing, colourful pictures and varying sounds and was hung on a sickly blue screen which refused to give way even though I broke a few fingers, frantically flicking from one channel to the other. The previous night had been rather rough with the rains lashing out at the city and I presumed that my cable operator would be able to pull off his usual magic and set things straight by changing a damaged cable or two.
So, without worrying much I proceeded with my daily morning chores, making a mental note of calling my cable operator as soon as I reached office. Upon arriving, I indulged in my usual leisurely morning routine of grabbing a cup of Horlicks and ambling languidly to my desk(I hope my Boss isn't reading this :-) ). At last, settling into my seat I decided to make the important call. I was greeted by a rather sullen voice which in my head belonged to a surly old Kannadiga man, bent over an old fashioned CRT monitor, slowly typing out the revenue figures of his small enterprise. In my most cordial tone, I began to explain my predicament, only to be rudely interrupted by a flurry of indecipherable Kannad words flung at me at an alarming speed of probably 100 words per millisecond. After a meaningless five minutes during which I unsuccessfully tried to put across my point, I decided to hang up and visit the Hathway (cable operator) office on my way back home.
By this time, a strange gloom and a premonition of bad news awaiting me, had started to creep in and my usual cheerful disposition was turning grey. The day rolled by and as soon as the clock struck six, I packed my bags and headed towards the Hathway office. By some stroke of luck, I managed to convey my concern to the relevant authorities and after being assured that my little box of delight would resurface from its comatose by the following morning, I returned home with a tiny smile and a hopeful heart. However, the next day my face fell as I again stared at the stubborn blue screen. Needless to say, I drove the entire staff at Hathway crazy over the next 48 hours. They tried all the tricks of their trade to figure out what had gone wrong with the connection, only to conclude by saying : 'Ma'am, we feel that there is a problem with your television. Please stop calling us every day, as you have chewed our brains enough and there isn't anything left for you to chew on further."
To stress upon how devastated I was, I would like to reiterate the importance of television in my life. During my transition from the wild college days to the more organized and rather mechanical days of employment, my faithful little 14 inch television was always by my side. Sitting on its ever changing perches (sometimes a broken chair, sometimes a big suitcase and on luckier days a proper TV trolley), it has been my companion on many a lonesome days and nights, doling out large portions of entertainment of all kinds at the click of a button. Without even realizing, over the past three years I have metamorphosed into an obsessive, compulsive TV addict with a predilection for the remote control which is like a magic wand in my hand. From the gruesomeness of ‘Bones’ and ‘Criminal Minds’ to the drama of reality shows like ‘Big Boss’ and ‘Khatron ke Khiladi’ and from the buffoonery of ‘Friends’ and ‘How I met your mother’ to tear jerking soaps like ‘Brothers and Sisters’, my TV provided it all and I was instantly hooked.
Now that my daily fix of tele-entertainment was being denied, I felt agony similar to perhaps that experienced by someone who has recently undergone a limb amputation and yet continues to feel the urge to scratch a persistent itch on the severed area. I constantly kept reaching for the remote only to be confronted by the annoying whir which accompanied the blue screen. I finally decided to take my ailing television to the local television repair guy who, I hoped against hopes, wasn't a quack. With a heavy heart I entrusted the TV repair guy with the 'light of my life' and dragged myself back home. The next two days were the most difficult as I kept thinking about how I had abandoned my faithful friend and how it was probably facing the solder gun right this minute. To cut a long story short, very soon I received a call from my - 'TV doctor' - who finally declared my TV alive and ready to brighten my life again. I cannot begin to describe my elation the day I brought my bundle of joy back home and plugged it in...Ohhh, the pleasure of experiencing the familiar sights and sounds again....!!!!!!!
In the past few days, an eerie silence has prevailed over my tiny studio apartment. It has been a silence which resembles the lull that engulfs a battlefield after the battle is long over or the quiescence which is associated with a placid lake on a breeze-less summer day. This silence is solely attributed to the unfortunate event that occurred last Thursday. As I awoke to the persistent chirping of a sparrow on my window sill and habitually reached out for the TV remote, I realized that my television had stopped displaying the arrays of amusing, colourful pictures and varying sounds and was hung on a sickly blue screen which refused to give way even though I broke a few fingers, frantically flicking from one channel to the other. The previous night had been rather rough with the rains lashing out at the city and I presumed that my cable operator would be able to pull off his usual magic and set things straight by changing a damaged cable or two.
So, without worrying much I proceeded with my daily morning chores, making a mental note of calling my cable operator as soon as I reached office. Upon arriving, I indulged in my usual leisurely morning routine of grabbing a cup of Horlicks and ambling languidly to my desk(I hope my Boss isn't reading this :-) ). At last, settling into my seat I decided to make the important call. I was greeted by a rather sullen voice which in my head belonged to a surly old Kannadiga man, bent over an old fashioned CRT monitor, slowly typing out the revenue figures of his small enterprise. In my most cordial tone, I began to explain my predicament, only to be rudely interrupted by a flurry of indecipherable Kannad words flung at me at an alarming speed of probably 100 words per millisecond. After a meaningless five minutes during which I unsuccessfully tried to put across my point, I decided to hang up and visit the Hathway (cable operator) office on my way back home.
By this time, a strange gloom and a premonition of bad news awaiting me, had started to creep in and my usual cheerful disposition was turning grey. The day rolled by and as soon as the clock struck six, I packed my bags and headed towards the Hathway office. By some stroke of luck, I managed to convey my concern to the relevant authorities and after being assured that my little box of delight would resurface from its comatose by the following morning, I returned home with a tiny smile and a hopeful heart. However, the next day my face fell as I again stared at the stubborn blue screen. Needless to say, I drove the entire staff at Hathway crazy over the next 48 hours. They tried all the tricks of their trade to figure out what had gone wrong with the connection, only to conclude by saying : 'Ma'am, we feel that there is a problem with your television. Please stop calling us every day, as you have chewed our brains enough and there isn't anything left for you to chew on further."
To stress upon how devastated I was, I would like to reiterate the importance of television in my life. During my transition from the wild college days to the more organized and rather mechanical days of employment, my faithful little 14 inch television was always by my side. Sitting on its ever changing perches (sometimes a broken chair, sometimes a big suitcase and on luckier days a proper TV trolley), it has been my companion on many a lonesome days and nights, doling out large portions of entertainment of all kinds at the click of a button. Without even realizing, over the past three years I have metamorphosed into an obsessive, compulsive TV addict with a predilection for the remote control which is like a magic wand in my hand. From the gruesomeness of ‘Bones’ and ‘Criminal Minds’ to the drama of reality shows like ‘Big Boss’ and ‘Khatron ke Khiladi’ and from the buffoonery of ‘Friends’ and ‘How I met your mother’ to tear jerking soaps like ‘Brothers and Sisters’, my TV provided it all and I was instantly hooked.
Now that my daily fix of tele-entertainment was being denied, I felt agony similar to perhaps that experienced by someone who has recently undergone a limb amputation and yet continues to feel the urge to scratch a persistent itch on the severed area. I constantly kept reaching for the remote only to be confronted by the annoying whir which accompanied the blue screen. I finally decided to take my ailing television to the local television repair guy who, I hoped against hopes, wasn't a quack. With a heavy heart I entrusted the TV repair guy with the 'light of my life' and dragged myself back home. The next two days were the most difficult as I kept thinking about how I had abandoned my faithful friend and how it was probably facing the solder gun right this minute. To cut a long story short, very soon I received a call from my - 'TV doctor' - who finally declared my TV alive and ready to brighten my life again. I cannot begin to describe my elation the day I brought my bundle of joy back home and plugged it in...Ohhh, the pleasure of experiencing the familiar sights and sounds again....!!!!!!!
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