There is enough testimony to the fact that certain individuals reminisce about the blissful moments they shared with their old flames (in some cases – just hypothetical situations) when high level of intoxicants in their beverages elevate them beyond morbid realities. Simultaneously, they develop a fondness for music of yore, a lethal combination that can trigger suicidal tendencies amongst affected parties.
I am sure, some of you have experienced a situation where you friend, after his 10th drink, developed a sudden and uncontrollable urge for old romantic songs and despite the original sound track available in the house, he reckoned you the best exponent of this genre. While he implored you to sing, “Kabhi Kabhi mere dil mein” for him and leaned back closing his eyes to feel the melody, you assessed your audience:
Five dormant bodies in a state of nirvana (a euphemistic term for alcohol-induced slumber) exhibiting diverse anatomy-defying postures, a piece of chicken kebab (the lone survivor of a brutal gormandizing assault), and your congenitally grief-stricken friend.
And when you refused to carry out this distasteful exercise of singing a romantic song for a close-eyed biped of identical gender, he unveiled his merciless side. Without relying on anyone, he meticulously executed a vocal carnage (fused with the lyrics mentioned above) with no apparent provocation till wee hours (amidst intermittent complaints from neighbors and dogs [in their respective lexicons]). And how you wished his 11th drink was sprinkled with unadulterated potassium cyanide when he open his moist eyes and continued this relentless savaged squeal looking at you, “Suhag raat hai ghoonghat utha raha hoon mein.”
The genius who came up with the idea of a caller tune was probably a victim of such barbaric acts and decided to seek revenge against the entire world with this spiteful initiative. Or may be he was (he could still be alive if and only if he avoided any rendezvous with the callers) just a nice person who deemed that a musical foundation would encourage us to indulge in telephonic jugalbandis in between our conventional verbal exchanges and hence, tried to infuse some life in our mundane and dreary conversations irrespective of whether the situation demands it or not. This could also be a brainchild of some undefined musicians, viz. Anu Malik, Bappi Lahiri, Kumar Sanu et al, who are forbidden to use their mouths for anything other than fulfillment of gastronomic requirements in civilized societies, whose eyes now light up at the sight of any living object with auditory senses and pepper them with recurrent, impromptu performances. Yours truly, however, is an ardent enthusiast of such bizarre and incomprehensible acts.
Owing to my experimentation nature, I soon subscribed to a plethora of value added services and became a valued customer of multiple service providers. The quantum of hidden values accumulated during this process is yet to be ascertained.
My caller tune symbolized my penchant for catchy Bollywood tunes, surprisingly, this resulted in a drastic drop in incoming calls; yet, I persisted. Caller tune, as the name suggests, is a feature specifically designed for the ones who dial that number, the subscriber doesn’t have the privilege to listen to the caller tune unless that person borrows someone else’s phone and dials his/her own number (an action contradicting the ideal application of this technology. Moreover, many would politely decline your request as no one on God’s green earth would want you to know that the outgoing call facility on his/her number has been barred.). But people didn’t understand this noble intention barring my debt collectors who, by then, were the only people who showed some respect for those caller tunes. Being a good Samaritan, I did not hinder the process and allowed them to enjoy the entire tune by not answering the calls. With time I changed my caller tune to a more sophisticated one, demonstrating my inclination towards western music – a Christmas carol awaited all the callers. Like its predecessors, even this Christmas carol did not get an opportunity to greet the callers…another noble act went unappreciated.
Crestfallen, I donated one of the two prehistoric mobile phones (on the verge of bidding goodbye to this vain transitory world) that I owned to the bakery shop owner (a humble attempt to make inroads into his esteemed credit book with the help of an obsolete device)… but this charitable gesture was soon regretted.
……………………………..to be continued