"Can I help you, Sir?" or How I purchased a DVD player and lived to tell the tale.

It had been over a year since my DVD player went on strike. It was an old model, a Pioneer DV626 I'd purchased around 1998. How ancient, even antiquated, it was can be gauged from the fact that it couldn't play mp3s! No DVD player could, in those Dark Ages.But it was absolutely wonderful at its job, with top-notch audio and video reproduction. But in early 2005 it started acting up and by mid-2005, whatever disc I inserted into it, DVD, VCD,audio CD, scratched, in good condition or virginal, fresh from the box,it would, with total disinterest, display "NO DISC".Extending Adam Smith's "laissez faire" philosophy to consumer electronics, I ignored both it and the family's howls of protest, in the belief that it would heal itself.

A full year of electronic (and fiscal) conservatism down the line, the sleeping dog (in this case, DVD player) continued its impersonation of Rip van Winkle.My better half, and our teen-aged collaboration no longer howled but subsided into regular nagging. It was when the wife threatened to supplement the nagging with denial of privileges ( Stop snigerring, it was food I meant.) that I decided to take a more activist approach. Picking up the old, unco-operative box ( Cool down,ladies. I said box, not hag.) I took it to a Sales & Service Centre. "Can I help you, Sir?", a young shop assistant said in a tone of voice which clearly belied the words. Having been forced to suspend his tête-a-tête with sweet young co-worker to attend to me hadn't done his mood much good. "Could you repair this DVD player, please?", I asked. Learning that I only needed my player repaired and wasn't interested in purchasing anything did nothing to cheer him up. I left my player with him and he promised to ring me up in a couple of days. To his credit he kept his word. Two days later he called me up to inform me that the estimate for repairs was Rs.3500/-. Considering that new players were available on the market from Rs.1800/- onwards, this seemed to me to be a bit steep and I told him so. Not surprisingly, he agreed with me and promptly started his sales pitch. I went back to the shop, took my player back to my bosom, looked at the few models they had for sale, and left. The family lost no time in moving in for the kill. "Enough is enough" was the refrain. I was given a deadline by which a replacement had to be purchased. Or else!
The next day I set out on my quest. I walked into a nearby consumer electronics store. "Can I help you, Sir?" a PYT asked in dulcet tones. Inwardly cursing myself for having worn my holiday worst, I put on my best smile and said that I was interested in purchasing a DVD player. She beckoned to an underling and said, "Show Uncle the DVD section." I came down to earth with a thud. "These are the DVD players, Sir", the assistant said, gesturing vaguely towards the rear of the store. "Could you show me,please? And I'd like some details, some specifications." "The prices are mentioned on each player", he replied. I gestured towards the nearest one."Tell me something about this one." Pat came the reply,"It plays DVDs, Sir." "Wow, and I thought it makes coffee and vacuums the room!" I nearly said but restrained myself. "Does it play anything else?" "DVDs, VCDs, MP3, everything.", he recited like a waiter in an Udipi restaurant. "Which DVD formats does it support?", I asked. A simple enough question to someone trying to sell DVD players, you'd think. It turned out not to be so.The bored and supercilious expression on his face faded, to be replaced by a puzzled look that clearly spelled "Duh". "Formats", I repeated, continuing my attack. "It plays MP3s, Sir", he finally replied with a determined, "Put that in your pipe and smoke it!" look on his face. It was a challenge I was unequal to and, thanking him with as much politeness as I could muster, I left. The story repeated itself with minor variations at the second, third and fourth shops I visited.At the fifth a tie-bedecked pip-squeak condescendingly informed me that they only sold Home Theatre systems and not stand-alone DVD players. He then proceeded to look at me from head to toe with undisguised contempt and his face said clearly what he didn't put into words - that his shop was not for cheapskates like me. At that stage I was on the point of throwing in the towel. Only the thought of the fate which awaited me at home if I returned empty-handed kept me going. The next shop proved itself a shade better. "Formats"? was confidently met with Dolby Digital, DTS, MP3,WMA,Divx, DVD, DVD-R, DVD-RW, DVD+R, DVD+RW. He'd mixed up hardware, software and encoding but I'd at least got the information I was looking for. Heaving a sigh of relief I brought out my next question - "Does it have optical output or co-axial or both?" Pat came the answer,"You've to connect it to your amplifier, Sir." I clenched my teeth, slowly counted to ten and asked,"Yes, but with what?". "With a wire, Sir", he said with the air of a long-suffering teacher trying to drill something into the head of a particularly obtuse student. Chastened,I moved on to shop number seven with somewhat better results.The salesman there seemed to understand. "Just a minute, Sir, I'll check." He then proceeded to turn the display piece around and peered at the connections at the rear. Co-axial was the answer. Final question ( As a matter of fact,I'd listed many more but decided not to press my luck too far.): Is it region-free? A correct answer here and my travails were over. 'Twas not to be. "Compatible with HDTV? Region-free? Er..What's that?" Evidently I hadn't quite finished paying for my past sins.The fates weren't done with me yet. It was at shop number thirteen that I finally attained moksha (salvation). All the earlier questions were answered. Some confidently, some after consultations, hesitantly, but they were answered. "HDMI?" "Of course." Region-free?" "It's region-coded, Sir, but we'll unlock it for you before delivery.In fact we can do it for you right away. Would you like to buy it, Sir?" Sir would. He brought up a boxed piece for me, opened and connected it, and used the remote control to make it region-free. I asked for the code in case it got region locked again by accident, a very real possibility in a household with a remote-happy teenager. "Sorry, Sir, we can't tell you that. It's confidential." I got the impression that I was asking for the keys to the Treasury! "But what if it locks up again?", I pleaded with him. To no avail. He was unmoved, unbending only enough to say,"Call us if that ever happens.We'll unlock it for you again." Weary in spirit and body, I bought it, came home, Googled for the hack and found it in three minutes. I've now connected the player, slipped in one of my favourite movies, fixed myself a long, strong drink, kicked off my slippers, and put my sore, aching feet up. Please do not disturb!

The Loneliness of the Long-Ignored Blogger

I found this cartoon at the Geek and Poke blog. It expresses perfectly the feelings of millions of bloggers like me who spend their days waiting for and praying for visitors to their blog.

Friend, bloggers, and fellow manic-depressives - I come not to bury my blog but to praise it...though the stat-counter remains immobile; and the stat-counter is an honourable *#$@&^% little so-and-so. Unread bloggers of the blogosphere, unite. You have nothing to lose except your marbles. Sooner or later(usually later rather than sooner) you'll find your virgin blog gently deflowered by a stray comment. Hey, the guy got lucky. Till that ecstatic moment of fulfilment, carry on writing. And if doesn't happen, console yourself. It's not you. The world is full of barbarians and Philistines.

The Human Race - or Ostriches ?

I'd rather not know, thank you very much! Now, where's my little patch of sand?

A conversation between me and my inner self

A conversation between me ( the party of the first part hereinafter to be referred to as 'I') and my inner self (the party of the second part hereinafter to be referred to as 'Smartypants') :

I: Nine days, seven posts and only one response.
Smartypants : I'm surprised too.
I : That's the first time in years you've agreed with me. Thanks.
Smartypants : I'm surprised you managed even one, nutcase!
I : (sotto voce) Should have known better than to ask you.
Smartypants : What's the good of whispering, fool? I'm your inner self, remember? I can read your mind.
I : Go, take a running jump at yourself.
I : People just don't appreciate good writing these days.
Smartypants : Sure they do. That's exactly why they avoid your blog like the plague. Just who do you think you are - Hemingway? Shakespeare?
I : What about the good lady who has posted an appreciative comment?Tell me that.
Smartypants : You've answered your own question, dunderhead. She's a good, kind lady who happened to stumble upon your blog by sheer accident. She just took pity on you. Don't let it go to your head.
I : And what about R's mail saying she liked my blogs?
Smartypants : She's your sis-in-law. Hardly qualifies as an unbiased opinion. Besides, what option did she have after you e-mailed her asking her to read it? She had to at least pretend ( all right, all right, I know I've split an infinitive here. Stop nit-picking, will you.) that she'd read your nonsense. Take my advice - stop this blogging. You aren't cut out for it. Better yet, delete this blog.
I : (sullenly) I won't.
Smartypants : Why not? No one reads it anyway. As Vijay Merchant had said, "It's better to go when people ask why rather than when they ask why not."
I : I'm not a cricketer.
Smartypants : No, and you're not a writer either.( snigger, snigger)
I : You're just jealous.
Smartypants : Ha ha ha. Very funny. I haven't had a good laugh like that since the 'India Shining' campaign. Now, if only you could distill some of that humour into your 'literary' efforts, you might yet have a future.

Good-night, Blog!

I fully intended to write a meaningful, insightful, contemplative post here today choc-a-bloc with self-analysis and navel-gazing; one which would have provided many profound, philosophical answers. Unfortunately, by the time I got around to it, I'd forgotten all the questions. Sorry, World, you'll have to get along without my solutions for the foreseeable future. (Anyone found sighing with relief will be beheaded! 'Off with his head' as the Queen of Hearts said in Alice In Wonderland. As for the rest of you snickering into your handkerchiefs, may your noses be eternally filled with snot like Salim Sinai.)
With these benedictions I wish all of you a very good night. Do not despair. I shall return afore long. "Farewell, farewell, parting is such sweet sorrow..."

This blog is under construction

Translated, that means

1. I haven't thought of anything worthwhile to write about.
2. I've been snowed under with work. Yeah, right!
3. Is anyone going to read my 'literary output' anyway? Can't say I've noticed anyone waiting with bated breath for this future Nobel laureate's pearls of wisdom. Everyone's too busy writing his ( N.B. This blogger is not exactly known far and wide for his political correctness. So there will be no his/her business here, no atrocities like hu'person', etc. You can howl all you like but, at the end of the day it's my blog!) own blog to bother to read someone else's - unless that someone else puts a link to his blog in his own blog, thus generating some traffic! Rather a convoluted sentence, that last one with perhaps one 'his' too many. Oh well, so long as you understand what I mean, it doesn't matter. Or does it? Sinking further into this dialectical quagmire, does anyone really understand what someone else means? Or do we stumble through life from one misunderstanding to another? Or have I just had one over the eight?
   
4. I'm too damned lazy to get off my butt and start writing this stupid blog. Though how I'm going to write it if I get off my butt is awfully hard to fathom. I'm not much of a whiz at writing standing up. Too much like work for my taste.