Aaargh….It’s been only a few hours since my phone has gone for repairs, but I’ve been tearing my hair out. I’m one of those smartphone addicts that you see everywhere: eyes fixed on screen, finger swiping the screen, tip-tapping messages.  I don’t know what’s happening on my friends’ groups on What’s App (it’s a message a minute there), no pings of Facebook notifications, no SMSes from 99 acres or other sundry property dealers letting me know of palatial apartments that cost Rs 5 crore or more that I should be buying and no, not even email messages (mostly spam, from some shopping site or the other that I must have visited). I’m the kind that changes my PP (not passport dummy, profile picture) often and wait for likes to hit my timeline.  I am quite shameless:  I announce birthdays, anniversaries, my adult kid’s birthday, my parties, even my fitness and running routine picture are streamed to the world every day.  Everything is verified through a Google search, even crossword clues. Let’s face it, I am addicted to my smartphone and abhor the idea of a digital detox. No Sir, I am not one of those who wants to cut the umbilical cord between my phone and myself. But accidents do happen. And with me, it seems to happen more often than not.  So the smartphone with ‘Gorilla’ glass, that is supposedly a thin but tough glass that protects my phone, proved to be wafer-thin once again (yes, for the second time), and made a monkey of me.  The last time I broke it, I took the phone to a company authorised repair shop. And the bill he handed me was enough to buy me another new, better smartphone. The tough task of deciding on whether I should junk this phone and buy a new one bore down on my shoulders. I did some window shopping and my eyes fell only on phone that cost over 30K. Now, that’s a handsome sum to dish out for a phone and in my case, very often.  As I walked around the market, tossing around in my head, which phone I should buy, I saw a brightly painted signboard: Mobile Masters: We specialise in repairing, unlocking (any country), and lost data recovery.  So, I hurried up the stairs to the store, just in case he had some ‘jugaad’ that could fix my smartphone for a ‘cheap’ sum. And the shop owner, a young lad with gelled hair, sporting that latest iPhone, agreed to do so in less than half the price the company store quoted.  So, I handled over my lifeline to him. But this means, I have to spend the rest of the day waiting without a phone. I made a quick call to the husband notifying him that I would wait at the Club for him. I sat in the sun with a hot cup of soup and while I ate my soup, it suddenly dawned on me I had nothing to do. I could not scroll up and down my apps to check on the latest gos on What’s App, I had no way of finding out what Kejriwal, Modi or Rahul were up too without Twitter and whether my friends were out sunning themselves somewhere without Facebook! OMG, no place where I could update my status or check-in too! I just sat there staring at the grey sky, the sun playing hide and seek with the clouds and eavesdropped on a conversation between two old couples on the woes of  living in Gurgaon instead of Lajpat Nagar.  I didn’t even know the time as I depended on my phone for this too! It’s been five hours now since my phone has been under resuscitation. I can’t wait for it to come back to life. My fingers are restless, I am feeling breathless not knowing what’s happening in the world. Yes I am a digital addict and while most people want a detox, I’m happy being addicted. Somebody give my phone back to me, quick!