I have discovered that I have a romantic inclination towards my new phone. It is my gift on post graduating this year. I realised this was more than just a new phone thrill when I caught myself the day before, laughing shyly and turning over in bed, my fingers sliding over its smooth sleek screen as if to push away strands of hair had it been a person. But it's not. I've even bought a dark purple cover for it. Purple is my favorite colour. I take my phone for long walks in the park and I take my phone to bed. At night I listen to Chopin's piano preludes and stare at the beautiful screen long after its light has dimmed, though not dim enough for me to miss the slant of Chopin's nose that takes over the whole screen- my gorgeous baby, reflecting my senses that have been consumed by the artist. I change the music to Prateek Kuhad's, whose voice suddenly makes me think of several sad scenes simultaneously. But just as I begin to tear up, he croons, "Jazbaaton ka kya hai, aaj hain kal nahin." The tear falters at the waterline of my eye, bewildered about what just happened. It chooses to stay in this night.
How is one to explain such deeply moving experiences without the risk of sounding utterly ridiculous? There's a bit of a complication however. I am unable write notes in it. I still need a real pen and paper to write. It's like you just cannot bring yourself to have sex with the person you love. I was devastated when I found this out for I could not claim my greatest pleasure. You know, the one that A. R. Rahman sings about all the time. But like any other couple, phone and I will keep trying.