The Datas of Petty Things!

Don’t confuse the ‘data’ in its statistical implications, here it means ‘giver’ (as per some Indian languages) or rather a ‘service provider’—the latter being the most suitable one for our purpose. Because this story refers to a DTH service provider; a service provider that is believed to have legendary origins as far as its services in a range of arenas is concerned. And this story is as told to me by a friend, and I’ve still kept it in first person, meaning him, the narrator.

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One fine morning as I switched on my modest television set I got setup for an unpleasant surprise, literally out of the blue! The message from the service provider, the Dataslay, got fixated at the baseline of the screen, telling me that my monthly charges of such and such amount are due in four days. Why! I paid an amount much higher than the monthly charges less than a month back, and as per the text message, sent by the service provider to my mobile phone immediately after the payment, my due date was still about twenty days away.

 

I thought it was a mistake which is likely to be rectified in the next two or three days, definitely before the incorrect due date. This thought was in respect of the legendary DATAs who, I persisted, couldn’t possibly cheat an insignificant but regularly-paying customer over an utterly insignificant amount of about 200 rupees. But I was dreadfully wrong.

 

The baseline notification refused to budge, and on the day before the recharge date to prevent deactivation I had to ring up the Dataslay Helpline. I told the lady executive my peculiar problem. To my horror, she didn’t know anything, in all her articulated innocence! I couldn’t believe this: she must be having my account right before her on the computer screen with all the details and the billing statements for months or even years stored there! I repeated my issue telling her to explain how on earth my monthly charges could suddenly increase by about 200 bucks without any new subscribed channels or packages or anything from my side in the last few months. But she persisted with her innocence.

 

She said they were very sorry for the inconvenience thus caused and would do everything possible so that my account doesn’t get deactivated. She kept on asking me what was the package or the extra channels I subscribed to which I told her to check on my account right before her. But she preferred to ignore it. And then she not only did offer an immediate solution but implemented it in an instant without giving me any time to consider it: that my account is re-subscribed with the economical basic package; that my monthly charges become less than the earlier regular amount as, I understood later, all of my additionally subscribed channels have disappeared; and that my new recharge date is in the coming two days.

 

I got as brutally surprised as I was horrified to watch the new notifications on my TV screen. The same evening I sent them an email mentioning all the details and even copy-pasting their previous text message after the payment I made last. The reply mail informed me that I’d be contacted within the next twenty-four hours. At around noontime next day, one male executive contacted me, again asking for the details. Dear me! What details they want now! I just told him that I needed an explanation as to how my monthly charges inexplicably    increased by 200 rupees. At last showing some concern he asked for a few minutes, assuring me that he’d get back soon.

 

However, hours later a lady executive called me, again asking me for the details. As I began by saying she should be the best placed to know she cut the line. In the following three hours there were two miscalls—I noticed that the calls were of extreme short duration so that, perhaps, I didn’t have the time to answer. Exasperated now, I embarked upon a frantic internet search for the top managers of Dataslay and found one top manager whose email address was available. I sent a mail detailing everything about the issue, including the response received so far.

 

Yet nothing happened. Except for me finding another two miscalls the next day, again of extreme short duration. In the evening I found another email asking me to give them an alternative mobile number as if they were so very pained and pissed at not being able to contact me. I decided to ignore that, somewhat resigned to fate now.

 

In the meantime the screen baseline kept on warning me about the impending deactivation if I failed to recharge. I decided to ignore, again. And the DTH connection was indeed deactivated the next day. Holy shit! I couldn’t believe that such a trade giant could be so concerned about earning or losing a meagre 200 bucks. I also had no information that the big giant is in any sort of a decapitating financial crisis. Okay, I decided, let them have my 200 bucks and get the richest among all giants existing. But, of course, I do retain my power of depriving them of one customer, permanently. And I do have my principles too, irrespective of the money involved. Yes, I am not going to recharge and will let the account die an unnatural death while looking for a new service provider of which there is no dearth. Well, I don’t mind for my loss. God has given me enough power still to help the desperately needy or the greedy with those small amounts, for a limited period, of course.

*

My friend ends the story there. What do you think of it? Personally speaking, I found it utterly unbelievable, considering such desperation from one of the top giants nearly implausible. What about the poor then who struggle for less than 200 bucks for a daily existence?

Megablock on a Metro!

 

It was early afternoon on a hot and humid day with the sun playing hide and seek with the non-threatening clouds. I hoped there wouldn’t be many takers for the special seats on the metro trains at this unfriendly hour, but I was wrong. As I boarded the seemingly empty train and marched toward the special section of the coach I found all the seats occupied, and more worryingly, a few oldies were standing, crouching hopefully and watchfully around the seats.

 

I stood in front of the two-seater and immediately found a frustrated oldie arguing with one of the two seated seniors to make way for him to sit as he fervently pointed toward the three-seater where a fourth person was accommodated. The defendant argued that the two-seater is a new addition and very narrow making it extremely unhealthy to accommodate a third passenger. Finding no support coming his way the plaintiff slowly moved away in search of greener pastures in the next coach. ‘Shit! They’ve already unlearnt the Covid lessons!’ I thought ruefully. The other oldie that looked much older and emaciated, in his early seventies or probably more, seated next to the defendant was fully absorbed in his smart phone.

 

Suddenly there was some movement in the two-seater that I missed as I leaned against the steel railing looking at the full length of the coach, trying to enjoy the scenario. It was too late! I discovered that the emaciated oldie got up and the seat was taken instantly by the not necessarily nearest standee. In fact I was the nearest. The defendant smiled at me in a rather curious way, muttering something that I failed to catch.

 

After maybe around three minutes the emaciated oldie came back and the new occupier had to vacate, to his silent chagrin. ‘What’s he doing? Confused about his destination and asking around or what?’ I thought. I looked at the defendant. He again smiled at me, this time understandingly, although I again failed to understand, this time miserably.  

 

Hardly two stations passed by when the emaciated oldie stood up again on a new lease of movement. The standee, frustrated previously, made no move this time; looking glum and fearing a repeat if he went for it. Not knowing exactly about the correct course of my action, I, being the nearest, logically sat down. I thought even a two-minute comfort was going to do only good to my aching knee joints. Now, I could clearly hear the amused muttering emanating from the defendant, sitting next to me. He told me that the emaciated oldie was extremely preoccupied with his mobile and was showing it around to almost all the passengers, consulting them avidly. He also added that though he couldn’t figure out what the problem was he overheard something about ‘blocking’. ‘So, he is expected to resume his seat anytime soon!’ I muttered back to him now.

 

I saw him consulting the seated oldies in the opposite bench, showing his phone liberally. And obviously, getting fed-up perhaps, he came back for the seat reclamation. As I prepared to make way for him he motioned me to sit on and adjusted himself somehow in the middle. That move surprised me to no less bit; however, his next move explained why.

 

This time he showed his phone to me, opening up the WhatsApp message page. He pointed to a number that had no name to it.

“I want to block this number! Do you know how?” he asked me in utter helplessness.

“Oh! You really need to block him or her?” I confirmed.

“Yes, yes!”

I showed him how. Simple and sweet! The emaciated oldie blocked the number immediately and launched himself fully on his now-fructifying mission. If he was excited and elated by that simple discovery he didn’t show it. He just mumbled something without moving his eyes from the device and I interpreted it as a customary ‘thank you’. Most probably!

 

My station came and I alighted. My peripheral vision informed me that even though the emaciated oldie remained glued to his instrument with his newfound knowledge he was circumspect enough to not allow anyone to propel into the third possible spot. As I walked to the station exit I smiled to myself, thinking, ‘A lot of people could be going to be affected by his educated tantrums! But why should I be worried? I’d not be responsible at all for all the megablocks he may have already created or might be creating in the foreseeable future! And anyhow, ‘blocking’ has of late become a somewhat necessary exercise!’

Live-in Monsters in India and the Institution of Marriage!

It's out of piercing anguish and pain that makes me write these lines. The fundamental fact of life is that it has always been imperfect. Nothing about human beings and their society is perfect. Perfection always remains a dream, perhaps the way God desires.

The institution of marriage was born and evolved out of sheer necessity. And, since a long time back this system had been marked as one of the most imperfect or even regressive ones. There were love marriages or arranged marriages, but it got proved again and again that there was no guarantee of happiness in either. Divorce thus has become the order of the day in almost all countries and with it women's liberty has been the thundering clarion call. Nothing wrong in that, absolutely.

But, what have we got as a result? Mangled and chopped bodies of women in all corners of our country? Yes, you can put in immediately a reference about the horrible dowry deaths, the honor killings, subjugation of the fairer sex within the four walls and the numbing atrocities committed in the streets, in cars and so on. Well, I must clarify that I'm not in support of any system created by the flesh and blood of humans.

However, the institution of marriage still has some advantages: marriages happen mostly between known families with their social status also known; things are always sorted out, allowing the boy and the girl know each other well; and of course, there is always a family support system in case the couple face problems.

But what about the live-in system that apparently grants full freedom to women to choose their partners and which in turn ensures women liberty? Well, how do they choose? From the extremely superficial and dangerous social media platform or from the casual working/drinking/smoking sessions? Okay, let it be, dedicated to the ideal of an equal society. But how do they know each other before deciding on a live-in relationship? Who are there to protect the girls who suddenly discover the monsters within their liberated four walls? Physical inequality is something that has to be accepted by all, and the concerned parents, despite living in a digital egalitarian world, still cry scandal or stigma in case of live-ins concerning their children and insulate themselves against any interaction. So, the girls are left alone to fight the monsters—fights they cannot realistically hope to win.

The emerging situation is in India at the moment thus suffocating and unbearable with the chosen male life-partners cum monsters killing and chopping the bodies of their supposed beloved, storing the parts in fridges or throwing outside and some perverts even roasting or cooking those parts. Again, no perfect solution for all such imperfect systems! The immediate solution that comes to the mind is that of granting a legal recognition to live-ins, although live-in relationships in India at the moment are not illegal either, in terms of at least a provisional registration and a certificate like in the institution of marriage. Or that of a mandatory courtship period in the process of registration? At the same time, the self-assertive girls should apply full caution and doubly ensure safety, identifying the true colors of the persons they're going to live-in with, and their families must not wave their hands in absolute surrender and instead, try to keep up social mixing. Besides, the politicians must desist from making brownie points in sourcing out the faith or caste or religion related identities of the perverted perpetrators, and instead, focus their movements on girl-safety and reducing crimes against women.