MY FIRST PHONE LOSS

Two weeks after my first accident, my classmates were getting ready to go on an industrial visit (IV) to Bangalore. I politely refused to join them blaming on the head injury which required me to take rest. I had to give the look of an amnesiac every time one of the IV representatives tried to convince me to go with them. Honestly, it wasn’t my head, but the ever worsening financial crunch and the stark disinterest in going to any “industry” during that weekend because I preferred being idle. I somehow managed to evade the payment of 1100 bucks till the deadline and the organizers did not have a choice other than to stop pestering me. I was glad. So were a 6 other guys in my class, who also weren’t going for the trip. One of them informed me about their plan to present papers at a departmental function in PSG Tech the same weekend. I was not going to participate, but was sure I could give good company.

On the day of the event, I dressed up to look presentable. I even wore a deo, imported from Malaysia, presented to my dad by his boss about 3 years back then. It did not matter that the deo was as old as its life, when the alternative was to stink like a pig and keep away the cute girls of PSG. I took my phone, a grey colour Nokia 2300, which I had not charged in the previous 4 days since there was neither validity nor balance in my account. Airtel, then charged 330 bucks every month for a meagre talk time and 30 days validity. Once the validity was over, a basic phone would be as good as a calculator, with a phone book and gaming capabilities. My account validity had been over about 11 days before that. I therefore had not felt the need to put my phone on charge. However, I needed the phone on that day. What’s cool without flaunting your mobile in front of random people? I did not have time to charge so I decided to take the charger along, hoping to find a plug point somewhere in the college. Meanwhile, my dad took his time to count the banknotes and cut exactly Rs.330 for recharging my account. I put the money in my wallet and crammed it inside my jeans pocket. When I stepped outside, I realised that the jeans was so tight that the charger protruded from near my crotch and the passers-by were giving me a dirty look. I wanted to go back and change my pant but the thought was overcome by the innumerable cocky one-liners that I could generate with that fake crotch. It was going to be a fun day!

I reached PSG in another 45 minutes and bought a recharge card from a nearby shop. I went inside the campus and headed towards the assembly block, where my friends were waiting for their turns to present a paper. I was disappointed as soon as I entered the hall as there were no girls. In fact, there were very few people, who were all filling the first 3 rows. Taking away the organisers, participants and judges, there were only two guys who did not participate, judge or organise the event. One of them looked like a janitor. I needed a mirror to look at the second guy, but I made do with the window pane.

The janitor dressed in a khakhi uniform was sleeping in the left extreme in the last row. I sat 2 rows ahead of him, in the right extreme, close to the plug point I had chosen. I was so impatient that, the moment my phone flickered to life, I scratched the recharge card wildly, to find the 16 digit pin number and entered it in my phone. I relaxed only after the recharge was successful. The switch board was in turn close to a window which had long red curtains. I plugged the charger and kept it on the window frame. It was convenient to repose my phone there and cover it with the curtains so that it was hidden from sight, and hence secure. So I thought.

One of my friends, Arvik had noticed me and came to sit next to me. We discussed for the next 20 minutes about the shabbiness of the presenters, the hopeless girl turnout for a mechanical department function, and the chances of my college teams winning a cash prize that day. We were so drawn in our own cynic jokes, that neither of us noticed the other end of the charger wire which was supposed to be sticking inside my phone, was instead suddenly falling freely to the ground. It took a really hilarious joke for me to do my crazy laugh- to close my eyes and convulse first, and then turn around to look for a thigh to slap. Since there was no chair to my right side, I could not miss the phoneless wire free from my wireless phone.

It took only a moment to sink in, and I was on my feet immediately. I took my friend’s phone and tried calling my number, but the sweet lady voice said that my phone was not reachable. I felt like saying “Oh yes! That’s why I am about to cry”, but I was beginning to get frustrated with something else very obnoxious. The dull paper presentation was continuing, unconcerned about my loss. I blamed myself for overlooking the fact that a window was indeed “An opening in a wall or screen that admits light and air and through which customers can be served” (Courtesy: Word web). The other side of the window opened into a walkway and it had been open all the while. I walked around hastily, asking every person on the way about a grey Nokia phone that was put on charge there. I did not expect anyone to give me back my phone. But I couldn’t get the picture out of my mind wherein “someone” comes and says, “Hey yes, I saw this phone from outside the window and I thought it might get lost. So, I took it and removed the simcard so that when the owner comes looking for it, I can barge in and hand over the phone”. Only, the “someone” kept changing in each picture every moment, depending on whom my suspicious look was aimed at. In another corner of my mind, I wished it was only a prank being orchestrated by one of my friends, just to teach me a lesson. I wouldn’t have fixated on this prank theory had it not been for the laughter this news generated among my friends. I kept troubling my classmates to come out with the truth, but it went in vain. “Thou can’t giveth that thou ain’t taketh. Amen”.

Meanwhile, I remembered that the sleeping ugliness, the janitor was not there when I did my frantic walk out of the room in search of the phone. He came back and sat in his place and began to listen to the paper presentation studiously, as if he could make sense out of controlled-plasma-energy-driven-eco-friendly engines. After some initial hesitation I walked up to him and told him about the phone. He said the same answer that everyone said, but he had vicious eyes, hairy ears and nose, and a devilish voice. What else could he be? My Sherlock Holmes brain said “That’s him!” I directly asked him to return my phone back, saying that I won’t be able to afford a new phone. At this, the janitor took offense and he retorted angrily pointing out that it was a public hall where hundreds of students (but no girls) came and went. I could not disagree with him but there was nothing much one could do when one lost one’s phone, except identifying and questioning suspects, and embarrassing oneself.

Sadly, the day darkened only hours into the morning, at least for me. Worse was the fact that I had recharged my mobile only that morning and whoever stole it, was getting a bonus. I wandered inside the campus for the rest of the day still hoping that someone would bring my phone to me. I thought perhaps the phone was somewhere near the department building, even though I never went there. I looked for my phone almost everywhere and finally gave up.

On the way back to home, there were no beeps from my pocket, no forward messages to read, no mobile phone to keep track of my time or give missed calls. I remembered that I avoided the class trip in the first place, mainly because I wanted to “save” money. The outcome of my smart strategy turned out to be a big loss for me – mobile phone + 330 bucks. A part of my life was lost in PSG campus. How I used to get butterflies in my stomach whenever one of the special girl friends sent me a message! How proud I used to look whenever I had to attend calls out in the public! All were gone. There was nothing to write in the “Mobile number” column in any form after that.

I knew I didn’t have to go to a function which I didn’t care about, yet it was my fault that I went there. If only life had creepy background music to warn you of threatening situations! I decided that I would bang my head on the wall a hundred times first thing after I reach home. But my father would not want me to lose my head also. I was very worried about how he would react. Confused already about all this, I was even more confused, yet pleasantly surprised on breaking the news to my folks. My whole family tried to persuade me that it was not my fault but the unfavourable positions of unlucky stars, which turned up once in two weeks to give me a dreadful fever, to cause an accident, or simply to take my mobile phone away. My father said, “It wasn’t meant to be”. My mother explained rather philosophically, that whenever wealth went into the drain, it meant that good health was assured. No more explanations about her concept though. Meanwhile, my grandma went into the kitchen and came back with something in her hand. All the rebuke I had anticipated and the questions I was prepared to answer, came down to circular movements of my grandma’s hand with salt, chilly and lemon, 3 clockwise and 3 anticlockwise, to ward off evil forces around me. My eyes followed her hand and made circles. As she cleansed my aura and transferred the negative forces to the ingredients in her hand and threw it out the window, I felt guilty having escaped any kind of rebuke. I heaved a sigh of relief, promising myself to be more careful from that time on. Ironically at that moment, I considered my stars did bring me luck!