Distance education under watchful eye
The message filled me with dread but there was no escape. I gingerly typed k (which is cooler than ok, which is much cooler than okay) and waited for him to call. Seconds later, he appeared on the screen, sleepy-eyed and unshaven. This isn’t going to go well a small inner voice warned me.
He had insisted and in a moment of weakness I had given in. My son had moved to the US and left his prized home theatre for me. My plea that I didn’t have much use for it as I am practically tone deaf didn’t deter him. The movers and packers didn’t deliver it on time so he had to leave without hooking it up. He assured me that installation was intuitive and that he would help. The moment was upon me.
He instructed me to look for a wire with a round end, I found it in the tangle he had left and asked if I should insert it in the round socket. Without missing a beat, he suggested I try inserting it in the square slot. Stupid question, snappy answer, I suspect he learnt it from me. Determined to redeem myself, when he asked me to look for a wire with a trapezoid end, I asked if he meant the HDMI cable.
Surprised, he nodded. Now came the tricky part, tilting the giant, wall-mounted screen to insert it in its back. Squinting in the dark, sweating profusely from the effort, I located it among the other sockets and stuck it in. With my confidence growing, I made a few other connections till I ran out of luck. He asked me to ensure that the right speaker is positioned on the right. Confused, I asked, “My right or the TV’s right?” I still think it is a legitimate question. He scoffed and said objects don’t have sides. I decided not to argue.
When all connections were made, I tried to switch on the system but the remote didn’t work. He told me to put in new cells, but I couldn’t open the lid. I tackled it with increasing force, all the while sensing frustration on the other side. Exasperated, he said it could not be as difficult as I made it look and asked me which part I was trying to slide. The next few moments were a revelation and have changed the way I look at the world. He explained that the long panel came off, while the tiny lid stayed. To my mind this is counter-intuitive. If the back cover of a gadget is divided into unequal parts, the smaller is removable, the bigger fixed.
My son ignored my laments and again I relented. In any case there were more pressing matters on mind. It was nearing midnight and I realised I didn’t have the much-needed pencil cells. I roamed the house like a zombie looking for gadgets from which I could retrieve them. Finally, I took out two from the kitchen clock and two from the remote of my set top box. I rejoiced that the job was done but fate was to test me further.
After checking that the home theatre was duly installed, my son wanted me to switch on the set top box to ensure it was receiving the signal. Its remote lay lifeless on the bed with its belly ripped open.
I trust the reader to guess what happened next so will skip those details and fast forward to the next morning. I switched on the TV and the background score was music (of a much better quality) to my ears. Maybe I’m not as tone deaf as I thought or maybe the previous night’s experience had sharpened my senses.
MY SON HAD MOVED TO THE US AND LEFT HIS PRIZED HOME THEATRE FOR ME. MY PLEA THAT I DIDN’T HAVE MUCH USE FOR IT DIDN’T DETER HIM