Omnis Cellula e Cellula

Among the household chores that I am expected to perform (thankfully not everyday), the one I like the least is getting the milk. The entire process of convincing a deaf goala that I know that he has arrived, and then proceeding downstairs and squatting to get the milk just gets on my nerves.

This post has, however nothing to do with my disliking for my milkman. It boils down to last Friday when I trudged down the stairs to do the deed. Instead of letting me slam the door in his face (as I usually like to do), he told me to note down his cell phone number! What the hell? Even my frickin milkman has a cell phone.

Though I do possess a cell phone (I admit that I am rather attached to it), I find that I suffer from a rare form of passive-cell-phone-irritation syndrome. It is actually quite like passive smoking, yet much more irritating and not quite lethal. At least not to the sufferer.

I recall the time that I went to watch Sarkar at Roxy. Crap hall, with even crappier sound. On top of that some moron had his cell phone ringing incessantly. Dude! There is something called a silent mode. It’s when your cell phone doesn’t make any noise and doesn’t disturb anyone. Thankfully I was in august company that day. A brief session of bawali and taunts stopped the noise. Well, at least for the next fifteen minutes.

Footnote: India has just crushed Sri Lanka and now leads the 7 match series 3-0. Dhoni 183*. Damn! Dukher bishoi ei je dadar fire ashar aar bishesh aasha nei. Btw, Lonka kober theke eto murgi holo?