March 02, 2006

Learning to text

Lend thy ears, for matters now
Of much importance we address.
Yes, this fine evening we’ll see how
One learned to send an SMS.

The day was dull, the skies were grey
And it was hot, to some degree.
One's walking down from point A (say)
To a place that we shall call point B.

There was a tea-place on the way
(On Ashram Road, one does recall)
And standing there, like every day,
Was Rameshbhai, who owned the stall.

As one waited for a cup
Of steaming hot masala chai,
One thought one might call Mom up
One thought of giving it a try.

(For one possessed in days of yore
A gadget one could call one’s own.
One carried and one did adore
One’s old and trusty mobile phone.)

One undertook this complex feat
Sweat pouring down this furrowed brow.
For (it must've been the heat)
One could not quite remember how.

How on earth was one to type
Numbers that made her cellphone ring?
(And thus began one’s general gripe
With every freaking gadget-thing.)

One was now in much dismay,
One had no further wish to live.
One’s expression, you might say
Was sufficiently expressive.

One was truly at a loss
A nervous breakdown had begun
But Rameshbhai, he walked across
And sat down right beside the One.

"You need to learn these things", he said
"Your skills we shall proceed to hone
But wait, before we go ahead,
How long have you, boy, had this phone?"

"Oh, maybe a year", one told him,
"Fourteen months, to be exact.
One called a friend once, on a whim.
(And yes, one does have friends, in fact.)"

"Learn to text, boy, helps a lot
It costs less than a call would, too."
(He was, as you might have thought,
A fine and businesslike Gujju.)

"Technology is vast, my boy,
But I shall be your trusty guide.
(Without intending to annoy - )
You can read, right?" he verified.

"Press this button, and you’ll see
A blank screen and a cursor too
That much I can guarantee;
But thereafter it’s up to you."

"Think of what you want to say
And write it out nice and concise.
Say what you wish to convey
And if you can’t, just write it twice."

He spoke (one thanked the Gods above)
On various relevant techniques.
Then he lent one his copy of
'SMSese in Seven Weeks'.

And tears of unbridled joy,
They freely flowed down from one’s eyes.
The Almighty, he doth deploy
A worthy angel in disguise.

"Ah, marvellous! Callooh! Callay!
‘Tis magical!" One cried out loud;
"One learnt something new today
The folks are gonna be so proud!"

That glorious evening did the trick.
One’s resumé now does profess,
"Well- travelled, and dynamic,
And conversant with SMS.


shakester said...

my word- priceless, really!
pray tell what brought this on now, though? or is it from the archives?

Cynthia E. Bagley said...

An Ode to Luna-cy (or Technology)

Who can—who dares to call the djinn?
As cirrus clouds caress the moon,
a maestro strikes his violin.

Orange juice dribbles on mother's chin,
while she demands, "address that tune:
who can—who dares to call the djinn?"

Her hand stretched to the paladin:
white scarf—he will possess the boon.
A maestro strikes his violin,

While anthropologists begin
to study and assess the rune:
who can—who dares to call the djinn?

My question falls, to my chagrin,
upon deaf ears. Congress of goons
(a maestro strikes his violin)

contests this poem. I can not win
unless I will confess and croon,
"Who can—who dares to call the djinn?"
A maestro strikes his violin.

m. said...

:)) lovely!!

Casablanca said...

It appears to me
Through posts, some old some new,
The One seems to be
A fast learner, quick in my view.

From rice on the burner,
to logic in grammer,
From reading the map,
to technology's trap.

And One must remember,
My Golden Words:
The country thou hast chosen as thy home,
Thou hast no choice
but to become,
A master of everything on thy Handphone.

Nessa said...

*the anonymous* almost choked on this club sandwich which was being devoured whilst learning to text...

*the anonymous* has also chalked out a mission to go look for Rameshbhai, since the location of his teastall seems to be somewhere nearabout the Office..

Your request regarding research on punctuation/ whatever has now been updated on one of the blogs maintained by *the anonymous* i.e. the promised post is complete :)

One in a Billion said...

Shakester: Thanks. No, not from the archives or anything. Just felt like writing verse again.

Cynthia: I'm speechless. Absolutely stunning, that villanelle. Spectacular imagery, mesmeric tetrameter. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

m.: Thanks :B (yes, that's the buck-toothed smile).


You receive a virtual bouquet
For being so extremely kind
Thy words are safely stowed away
In certain corners of one’s mind.

A lump is forming in one’s throat
One feels a warmish fuzzy glow –
For you’ve read pieces that one wrote
A substantial while ago!

Nessa: Hmm. The post in question has been perused, and Rameshbhai has been alerted :)

Cynthia E. Bagley said...


Casablanca said...

Wish real flowery bouquets, were possible online,
But the thought counts, so virtual will do just fine.

*wondering* Werent archives meant for reading, or does The One wish us not to disturb the dust collecting on them?

Nessa said...

:) for the perusal
:( for alerting Rameshbhai

Shweta said...

How good you are Clever One! What rhyme, what meter! Compellingly read-aloudy. You are better even than Fatty.

DeepBlueSea said...

Does Rameshbhai give tutions to the technically-challenged? Or is he more like a shrink? I'd like to refer some technophobic friends to him. It will be worth the blasted commute to Ashram Road.

One in a Billion said...

Cynthia: *continues applause*

Casa: They are there for your perusal, of course. And, as one tried to express in the reply above, it's nice to see that you've read them.

Nessa: No, don't be ":("

One just told him to brush up his English!

Shweta: Thank you, thank you. The remarkable Mr. Trotteville did it on the spur of the moment, though. One takes hours and hours.

P.S. You've gone and put one in a nostalgic, Marshy Goonflower-ish mood.

P.P.S. It's nice to see you blogging again.

Deepa: Well, he's a general friend-philosopher-guide kind of chap. But one's barber could help too, you know. He was even better, as a techie.

Shweta said...

You don't say! Modest One. They (your pomes) flow so effortlessly, I made sure they come to you while you brush your teeth.

Anonymous said...

Mah-vellous dah-ling one, simply m-ahvellous!

Vijayeta said...

Hey! My first time here...Came via SmugBug's blog and loved what you've written! Tutorial on text msgs. in verse, nonetheless.

J. Alfred Prufrock said...

Taking the lead from Shweta, I must pay this verse the highest compliment - it's a 'pome' a la Ern Goon!

One in a Billion said...

Shweta: Actually, portry only happens when there's a mystery at hand .. gosh, look, lights flashing over on Christmas Hill! Whatever could that mean?

Dee: Thank you .. er .. dah-ling Dee.

Vijayeta: Thanks, glad you liked it. And welcome.

J.A.P.: Honoured. Thankewverrymuch, as Ern might say.

Nessa said...

the One reminds *the anonymous* of a joke on diplomacy:

A boy worked in the produce section of the supermarket. A man came in and asked to buy half a head of lettuce. The boy told him they only sold whole heads of lettuce, but the man was persistent. The boy said he'd go ask his manager what to do.

The boy walked into the back room and said, "There's some jerk out there who wants to buy only half a head of lettuce." As he finished saying this he turned around to find the man standing right behind him, so he added, "And this gentleman wants to buy the other half."

The manager Okayed the deal. Later the manager said to the boy, "You almost got yourself in a lot of trouble earlier, but I must say I was impressed with the way you got yourself out of it. You think on your feet, and we like that around here. Where are you from, son?"

The boy replied, "Minnesota, sir."

"Oh really? Why did you leave Minnesota?" asked the manager.

The boy replied, "They're all just prostitutes and hockey players up there."

"My wife is from Minnesota," the manager said.

The boy replied, "Really!? What team did she play for?"


csk said...

what'll the next post be on? 'Creating a blog'?

One in a Billion said...

Nessa: Nice, very nice :) There is, of course, also the one about the Minnesotan hockey-player and the overcooked dhokla, which one shall save for another time since it has nothing to do with diplomacy (or with anything else in particular, except Minnesotan hockey-players and overcooked dhoklas).

CSK: Well, either that or Ten Ways to Throttle Kunal Kapoor. Or maybe something else.

Ph said...

A man who communicates AND makes masala chai. Take me to him!

Casablanca said...

I want to hear the joke on overcooked dhoklas... always nice to hear gujju jokes from The One :D

And... and... did... did you... did you just say throttle Kunal Kapoor???? Blasphemy! Thou shall not utter such words, if thou wishes to survive the Ides of March! Never. EVER!

the Monk said...

I am not even going to try and reply in leatned very quickly (i beleiev it was in 1sts em) when yours truly had a chance to pataofy this girl...and sms was the only feasible option I had if I wanted tot alk to her all night...

Nessa said...

Hehehehe.... *the anonymous* shall take the One's word for it :)

One in a Billion said...

Ph: Ah, but wait till you hear about one’s barber.

Casa: Oh, it was this outrageously politically-incorrect thing about this Gujju girl cooking dhoklas in an effort to pataofy this hockey player so she could marry him and get a green card. One forgets the details, to be honest.

But one shall make up for that by telling you what is referred to in Gujjuland as a vairy phunny jocks.

Bharatbhai Patel of New Jersey was involved in a car accident. At the hospital, when he awoke, he called for his family. "Urmi, kyan chhe tu? Are you there?"
"Haan, Jignes-na-pappa, I am here, and I will never leave you."
"Jignes beta, are you there too?"
"I am here, father, and I will never leave you."
"Pinky, are you there?"
"I am here, father, and I will never leave you."
"Well," said Bharatbhai, "if Urmi, Jignes and Pinky are all here, who the hell is in the shop?!"

Monk: You know, sometimes one feels like one missed out on everything in life. Sigh.

Nessa: Thank you. If only everybody were as trusting.

Nessa said...

*the anonymous* associated this joke with the peoples coming from the Sindh..

Anonymous said...

I second Nessa on the Patel joke up there!

One in a Billion said...

Nessa: *the anonymous* is astute in her observation. It could be suitably modified for all sorts of peoples, one imagines .. the way blonde jokes and Irish jokes are often the same.

Dee: Yes, one does too, actually.

tangled said...

Truly, the comments are as much fun to read as the posts, perhaps more. I must start replying to the meagre few I receive.
That said, so many remember the portry! *sigh*