“Time to wake up!”, she says.
I half open my eyes, struggling to shake off sleep that had engulfed me with great difficulty in the wee hours of the morning. Through the blur of my eyelids, I see her staring at me—lying in the same position that I’d last seen her before I fell asleep.
She asks me why I am having difficulty sleeping. Apparently, my sleep analysis looks terrible. I choose not to answer. I did not feel comfortable telling her on the face that she was responsible for that.
She tells me that I have some important mails and messages this morning. I glance through them. Some of the mails cause my blood pressure to shoot up. My heart rate increases. She senses that. She tells me to take a few breaths and calm down.
I close my eyes. She plays a calming meditation track for me.
That does a world of good for me. I feel relaxed.
She notifies me that it is time to drink a glass of water. Yesterday I did not do a good job in that area, she says. I had eaten way above my prescribed daily calorie intake limit too. Not to mention the food composition—little to no fibre! She says that if I am serious about shedding flab, I must strictly follow the diet she prescribes. If I so wish, she could assign me to a health coach, she says. I decline politely, mumbling that I will try and stick to the diet from now on.
Time to catch up on the day’s news. She reads out the headlines to me while I am showering. I am a busy person you know…always on the move, always working—scared that I would be left behind if I didn’t keep hustling.
I dress up, gobble down a couple of bananas and rush to my car. She follows. In the car, she plays my favourite language learning podcast. I have been trying hard to pick up a new idioma.
I see a roadblock ahead. I ask her to check which of the alternate routes will get me to office faster.
In office she keeps helping me with my calls and messages.
Even in office, I just can’t take my eyes off her. She’s also a great entertainer. She boosts my spirits during my tea and lunch breaks.
She is quite an expert in finances too—she helps me make some good investments in the share market. My loans, payments and just about any of my financial transactions go through her.
She’s abreast of what’s happening…always.
She is even into gossips. Ask her what’s happening in the lives of my friends, their friends, relatives, celebrities, or just about anyone and she’ll give you the inside dope.
She helps me book a table for dinner. She helps me with movie recommendations on Netflix.
She even keeps a count of the number of steps I take every day!
Just running my fingers over her makes me feel reassured. Never has she complained about my frequent caressing, poking, and touching.
I do not know how I can live without her. She is my constant companion; I feel so incomplete when she’s not near me. She makes me look and feel greater than I am.
I am addicted to her. Her? Hmm…come to think of it, I don’t know if ‘she’ is a ‘he’. Or an ‘it’?
Do phones have gender?
I do not know, but the only thing I do know with certainty is that I am a total and complete slave to my phone.
And I need to break free soon to retain my sanity!
BTW, here’s a genius one-minute short film that kind of captures our plight beautifully:
What about you? Do you feel the same?