Bought a cute little looker of a notebook computer today. The old lady (on which I am typing [rather, caressing] this) seemed too trustworthy and faithful to be exchanged or sold. She is too useful. So she stays in addition to the cutesy little charmer who now sits beside old and faithful preening and posturing. They have this conversation going, something as follows:
“Chudail, kameeni, how dare you take my place on my master’s table.”
“You, hag, you have outlived your usefulness. It’s time you retired.”
“No way. You go away. My master knows my every key. He knows them by heart. He can even press my keys in the dark. He is that familiar with me. With you, he will have to learn a lot. He is not a good learner, you will see.”
Mimicking. “Yeah, yeah. I am faster, I am sleeker, I have a camera, a mike, a Wi-Fi (meaning, widely faithless), a blue wisdom tooth. None of which you have. You, old and creaky woman!”
“I have the trust of my master. I have never let him down. Er... except once.”
Yeah, the old lady nearly conked off once. Had to be resuscitated. From then she has been going strong. When I lugged her to Reliance Digital for an “exchange offer” I became all sentimental and mushy. Oh! How could I do this? She seemed cross, too, unwilling. She wouldn’t slide easily into the black bag, she threw me a glance of reproach when I unveiled her to the greedy salesman. There she sat, dusty, wrinkles showing, stained in places, used and resigned to her fate.
“How much will I get for her,” I ask the slavering idiot of a salesman, hunkering over her.
“Rupees two thousand.”
“What?” I then added, “Are you mad?”
“No, sir,” the drooler said, eager to sell his soul and make that important sale.
“You have the guts to offer that price for my beautiful lady? You know what she means to me.”
The twit, the tyke, the twig with a rat-like face, the tweedledum tweedledee said in his best seductive voice, “No sir. Be kind enough to enlighten me.”
I looked at his retarded face, shoved him with all my might, making him lose his balance and heaved my dearest on my shoulders and left.
Now as she looks woebegone at me as I punch her keys, composing this blog post, she says to the young charmer beside her, “See he likes me more than you. Eat your heart and soul out.”
True I love my old laptop computer too much to give her away. How could I even think of doing that? Hm? Let the cute one preen and posture. What do I care.