I called the Canon outlet today to inquire about my G9. They – very politely – told me that the lens needs to be replaced and I need to pay them 20k taka (approx. USD 295) for it. They’ll order it, and after God-knows-how-long, the lens will arrive in Bangladesh and my camera will be fixed. My Dad doesn’t know about the “accident” yet and he’s the one with the mint. The same mint with which he bought me the damn camera. Which technically means if I want my camera to be repaired, I need to confess to my Dad.
Will he kill me?
I don’t think he’ll kill me. At the end of the day, our parents – whether we admit it or not – are sensible human beings. He won’t kill me. But he will make it a point to stop me from doing what I do with my camera. Taking pictures of random people who I won’t meet a second time in life.
If you consider the situation from a third-person perspective, it’s not that much money and it’s that big a deal. However, since it’s me – the petrified – and my G9 – the precious; it’s a BIG deal.
I could just save up another 12k and reward myself a D40!