When hard pressed to buy a digital camera just before going on a vacation to Agra, Punjab and Delhi in 2008, I had few choices in mind. Ever since possessing an analog Nikon F60 from March 1999 onwards, buying another brand was simply out of the question! Nikon had that aura of professionalism, buid quality and rock solid performance. The major drawback levelled against Nikon was its less than sufficient after-sales service in Kerala. But that was not issue for me, basking in the uninterrupted service offered by F60. I had stopped using that camera from around 2007, mainly due to unavailability of film and gradual decline in lens performance as a result of fungal accumulation – the greatest threat faced by any camera owner in the warm and humid Kerala climate.
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| P5100 is a good camera, but may fail at any instant! |
Picking up CoolPix P5100 wasn’t an accidental choice. I’d personally recommended it to a friend three months earlier and was quite impressed by its performance. He got it for Rs. 12,500 (serial number 20411453) and my price tag of Rs. 11,000 (serial number 30442605) was a bit high for the features, but then I thought quality doesn’t come cheap. The camera did its job admirably well during my 10-day trip, making me a satisfield man in finding the right piece of equipment.
My friend’s joy soon turned to sorrow just after one year when its charger failed abruptly. Efforts to get it repaired was foiled and he was forced to buy a new one by coughing up an extra Rs. 1500. Since he bought the camera solely based on my recommendation and judgment, I had to see his long face, but I soothed him, saying it was just an electronic item, which may break down randomly with the dice stopping on him this time.
But, little did I know that my own lot lay next. In June this year, not even three years have not elapsed since the purchase, my own P5100 blinked. The view finder showed a blurred image with a violet hue when switched on, giving no way to figure out the contents of the scene. The playback of saved images in memory was in fine detail as usual. I suspected the CCD sensor to have become faulty.
I searched the Nikon website for a service centre, and lo, I found one in Ernakulam. When contacted, the personnel were very friendly on phone, requesting me to present the camera for inspection, which I duly did the next day. It took only five minutes for the young, ‘experienced’ (!) technician to find the problem with the sensor. He didn’t even open it. But his solution was shocking, designed to burn a big hole in my pocket. He said the entire lens assembly has to be replaced as a group, in addition to the sensor just because Nikon markets it as a single package. “Okay”, I said, “what’s the price?”. “Rs 5,500”, he answered without batting an eyelid, “of course, service charges to the tune of more than Rs. 1,000 will be extra”. I was stunned and at a loss for words. Here am I, expecting something in the range of Rs. 2000-3000, while he attempts to scale Rs. 7,000 for which I could buy a brand new camera with better features! Still I asked him whether they’d give me a 1- or 2-year warranty for the replaced items. ‘No’, he said, “warranty is only for new purchases. However, since you’ve asked, we’d give a guarantee of 1-month, and that too at our own risk and generosity. Let the company doesn’t know this”. Some generosity! Just a minute later, the neighbouring shopkeepers saw an angry man stomping out of the service centre. It was none other than me!
Since my Nikon has left me in the lurch, I tried a private repairing centre. Limra Mobiles is a digital equipment repair shop in the Penta Menaka complex. The master serviceman there quickly identified the problem and consoled me by offering to try for a second-hand item which can be sourced from Delhi. I waited for two months, but nothing came of it. May be the Delhi team was expecting stolen items? At last, I collected the camera back and gave my mobile number, asking him to call if anything came along. I’m still waiting.
So, this may be an indicator of the doomed way Nikon is marketing its products. They have a glorious past, but resting on the laurels won’t save the day for them, if they continue to ride this suicidal path. Asking 70% of the original price for a spare part is cheating, pure and simple! I wonder what difference I’d have had in selecting some fly-by-night Chinese brand over Nikon, which also would have served me well for at least two years? Here, my friend too is disturbed, afraid that his own instrument may fail at any time.
At last, here I am, wondering again which camera to buy for a major tour coming up at the end of the year. I still haven’t finalised, but one thing is certain – its name won’t start with a capital N!
