My last blog post, written after a year and a half of what seemed like the longest sabbatical I had ever taken from blog writing, was written a month ago. It alarms me that it took me a whole month to write another blog after my grand return to arty heart, what with all the free time I find myself with (owing to my delayed final exam results). I wonder what the 18-year-old me would have said about this, that version of me that wrote a new blog every Monday night and would apologise to her readers in the event of her not being able to do so, or would punish herself with guilty thoughts over the catastrophic situation of writing on, say, a Wednesday night and not a Monday night! Well, those were the days.
Alright, I am only 21(nearly) and the previous sentence makes me sound rather old. Also, I have realised that I need to stop ranting and be a tad quicker with approaching the subject that this blog promises in its title—problems. Since this blog is more like a toned-down version of my personal diary, I am choosing to speak about my problems today. The problems that have made life a little difficult for me since the past week.
The end of the week before last week began with my smartphone falling to the ground flat on its face( I mean its display/screen). The moment was quick, and it happened even before I could blink. The next thing I knew was a cracked screen and the instrument blacking out to any instruction I gave it to switch on. But inspite of this, I was confident that nothing much had really happened and hoped that my phone would be back in action two days later. This is probably why my heart sank when the service center in-charge told me that a change of display would cost me 7500 rupees. Now, we are certainly not devoid of monetary resources, but more than 7000 rupees for what happened in a silly, clumsy split second did burn a hole in my heart ( and was likely to do so in my father’s wallet). The worst part was that all this wasn’t even my doing. I had been outside to meet some friends and during the end of the meet, they dropped it in an excited hurry, while taking a selfie of all of us. Today, more than a week later, my broken phone lies on my desk—no service center we called could arrange for a display for my phone, which belonged to a not-so-common brand(one plus) that does not have cheaper or duplicate displays, and more unfortunately, enough authorised service centers in town. The one center that had given some hope, returned my phone saying they couldn’t do the needful and back I walked home, in the chilling monsoon winds, from what was the fourth visit to this center.
On the day of the ill-fated selfie, I had also made the mistake of consuming a cold beverage. The consequences? A sore throat that transformed into a cold that worsened into a fever that deteriorated into a flu. That’s all. Also, four days of patience with the flu only rewarded me with some excruciating pain in the right side of my jaw. My wisdom teeth had found this very time of my life to attack me. So what if they were nothing but two tiny pieces of calcium and I was an adult, medium-sized human being? They had to make their existence known to me and this was to be done in the most painful manner imaginable. I was not one to back out either and answered them with a gruesome extraction with a gentle, yet smart dentist very well-acquainted with the likes of these. As they lay in front of me in a tray, I couldn’t help finding them cute. Cute little @#$@#$*@#*@#$.
But they had their revenge dear reader. You see, the aftermath of a gruesome tooth extraction isn’t quite pleasant. My right cheek stands swollen. I cannot use my right jaw at all. Speaking has been reduced to mumbling and I am consuming more medicines and painkillers than food at the moment.
If you have been wondering if the absence of my phone has done me any good, it hasn’t. I haven’t had the life-changing digital detox which one would usually expect in such situations. My final exam results can come out anytime soon and so, I need to have the quick information that the smartphone provides through the likes of Whatsapp. Also, the terrible fear of missing out brings me to the walls of Facebook more often than ever, through my mother’s tablet. Aside of these, just three days ago, I switched on Whatsapp through a spare old cellphone father used to use. My comeback after a week was…pathetic. I waited eagerly for texts. Notifications. I checked the old black nokia from time to time looking up whatsapp and facebook messenger to see who had replied, and who hadn’t. To see if someone cared about my big and small problems.
Well, if you have read till this point, you are blessed with a lot of patience. And probably, even compassion. Compassion, to be able to listen to some of my problems of the past week, inspite of being burdened with some of your own. To be able to listen to some minor inconveniences of my privileged life being called ‘problems’ when there are so many real problems plaguing this world and its other inhabitants in greater degree, with greater force. It’s funny how I say I have made you listen, when you have actually been reading. In any case, reader, you have listened enough and we must both leave.