Of Cellular Phones and Gogol - I

This is the story of one Gogol who I met briefly during my internship at GA. When I joined as an employee, he had already left. The character has nothing in common with the person in The Namesake (film or book). For reasons unknown to me back during the internship months, Gogol was popular beyond logical limits within the confines of several hearts. One evening, my flatmate S*!#@ introduced me to the Gogol. Not the man, but the concept that was Gogol.

S*!#@ had nurtured a desire to buy a “pretty cool” cellular phone when he started off as an employee here. He had spent a couple of days browsing through the websites of Nokia and its competitors, diving into technical details while keeping a careful watch on the depth of his pocket. As the sun set on the western horizon, and S*!#@ finished his search, resting his mind on one beautiful black handset brought out by Sony Ericsson, Gogol came down from his cubicle upstairs, and bellowed,

“I am thinking of buying a mobile.” (bhaabchi ektaa mobile kinbo)

Very well, thought S*!#@, nothing intrinsically wrong with the thought itself! He, just like any other person without a lot of money, would expect Gogol to choose his phone in a day or two, after attaining perfect balance between desire and budget. Gogol’s next bellow,

” Well, let’s go!” (chaw, jaai)

This was at five in the evening. And so the two friends set out to buy their mobile phones.

Stage 1: Go to the bank/ATM and take out some cash (they didn’t have their credit cards yet). S*!#@ executed his well-planned actions and withdrew the amount he wanted to withdraw. Gogol discovered that his account had Rs. 11,000 only.

Stage 2: At half past five, Gogol bought a mobile worth Rs. 10,500.

That is the concept behind Gogol.

Cut to the next weekend, when a group including S*!#@ and the protagonist went to a certain scenic waterfall for an outing. There is a place where the slopes are gentle and one can bathe in the water without risking sudden, and probably undesirable, death. During this activity on the banks of that pristine mountain stream, X discovered a wallet floating past him.

“Hey, I found a wallet floating by!”, he shouted. (arre, dekh mujhe ek batuaa milaa nadee mein)

“And there’s a lot of cash in it too!”, he screamed without hiding any excitement. (abbe is mein to bahut paisaa bhi hai)

“And there’s a picture here ……. the fellow looks like Gogol, guys!”, he continued in an incredulous tone. (is mein ek photo bhi hai. yeh bandaa Gogol jaisaa dikhtaa hai)

At this point, Gogol hops/runs/jumps towards X brimming with the joy of sudden respite, splashing the entire stream on the mountains. “That wallet is mine, dude. It’s mine!” (arre, yeh to meraa batuaa hai)

A few minutes later, X finds an expensive mobile phone floating past him. Still under the shock of his previous discovery, he cautiously asks his fellow campers, “Guys, there’s a mobile floating by, should I take it?” (abbe ek mobile jaa rahaa hai, uthaaun kya?)

Enter Gogol in a familiar fashion, bouncing within and without the clear waters,

“Hey, that’s my mobile!” (arre, yeh mobile to meraa mobile hai!)

The rest is no fault of the cellular phone company. The screen flickered, but did nothing more. Gogol pressed the reset button, and it stopped flickering.

As far as I know, it never flickered again.