This post needs a Ross kind of hi.
A couple of weeks ago, the evening sky became dense and a low rumble said that it was going to be a long night. The ethereal twilight glow faded as clouds gathered and soon big heavy drops of rain fell to the parched ground. Excited, I watched out the window of my room- the breeze turning into a howling wind, tossing branches this way and that. Within seconds a darkness consumed the entire place and sharp streaks of light parted the sky- nature’s lightshow. After a while of watching the relentless rain and feeling glad I was not a paper boat in the muddy puddle outside, I decided to get back to work.
Opening my good old friend Google docs, I realized that the Wi-Fi was down. It’s a storm. It’s understandable. It will be fine in half an hour. I said to myself. After about one hour I got tired of playing the dinosaur game on the chrome page. Do you think he blinks? Am sure I saw him blinking. Maybe he was trying to communicate through Morse code with me. I then called my dear Wi-Fi bhaiya. After two years, he now can read my mind and answers me before I even say anything. It would take three hours he told me.
That was when the dark and stormy night really began. With vibes very much like Flintstone’s I SMSed my teammates. We felt very prehistoric, exchanging texts and keeping each other updated. Three hours passed by with me stealing glances at the Wi-Fi router, only to see the same sad red light smirking at me.
The storm was receding to a steady pitter patter and meanwhile I organized my clothes, dusted the bookshelf, arranged and rearranged the books, dusted the house, read a little, watched a movie I had saved and gate crashed the board meeting of a group of ants, pretending I was Gulliver (Seriously, what is all that conferencing about? They seemed busier than firefighters.) Finally, as I sat in bed with only a nightlight on, along the wall someone made his way quietly into my room. From the corner of my eye, I saw him and froze before letting out a blood curdling scream. It was Remy, a rat who simply refuses to leave the house. I had made a deal with him months ago that he has to cook if he’s staying. What, haven’t you seen Ratatouille? I think it’s a fair deal, but anyway I never saw him again until that dark and stormy night. No, my father did not come to my rescue. He thought I was battling some invisible monsters with my invisible sword. And then Remy scurried away into the night, I don’t know where.
The ‘three hours’ turned to almost a day and next afternoon the inviting green light glowed on the Wi-Fi router, Alexa turned back on to tell me cheesy jokes, wrong weather updates and why she’s the best AI, better than Cortana or Siri again. E-mails, messages and notifications gushed in and the exceptional Twitter also told me why #Alphonso and #Mysorepak were trending.
This post is part of Blogchatter Half Marathon