Words can create magic and I want to get lost in them for some part of each day.

August 1, 2010

Commotional Atyachar..

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I wish to  complain
Against mobile phones in hands of people whose tongues move faster than their brains.

Of all the various forms of public pestilence
Enforced company of a mobile-enabled blabbermouth is the biggest nuisance.
 
Attaching these garrulous public-speakers to a cellphone
Is akin to feeding a jackass a double dose of growth hormone.

Now, I generally am quite easygoing and pleasant
A pro in handling hecklers and escaping smilingly  from jag-ratas strident.

But I shudder when I recall
my hapless encounters with people indulging in cellular 'free-for-alls'.

You maybe sitting quietly in a train trying to read or enjoying the scenery,
When you will get caught amidst noisy dialogues-all inane,grating and dreary.

Maybe you are engrossed in a movie or a musical concert-
When the guy in front of you turns out to be a cell-phone pervert.

Shattering glass and cackling child are his favourite ring tunes
And his cellphone erupts every two seconds like some maniacal baboon.

Cellphone abusers come in various types
But all of them are voluble yakkers who delight in publicly conducting their personal lives.

Be it the officious fellow who shouts at his staff while videoconferencing on a Blackberry.
Or the Nokia lady who brazenly discusses the money value of her impending Daughter-in -law with a singlemindedness scary.

The dude who wants people to know that he is settling a lover's tiff
Jabbering in the phone till everyone around gets a headache stiff.

On the one hand you are being subjected to this intrusive auditory and mental trauma;
On the other, tackling them creates unnecessary drama.

If you stop them you are meddling with their democratic right.
And if you don't  you must endure the verbal blight.

No I can not stuff my ears with earplugs or I-pod,
Somehow it gives me a similar feeling of having my brains gnawed.

I cringe at these memories-even as I write this-
I wish their vocal chords get a stroke and their tongues get arthritis.

I doubt that their tiny brains will ever get fried,
For no electromagnetic radiation can penetrate their thick hides.

But I pray that there is a special place in hell
For these deranged abusers of the cell.

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