Back in 2012, I was heading for Dehradun to attend a college fest. My train had just started to pull out from a sleepy rusty station in rural Haryana.
Lying on the middle berth and plugged to my earphones, it was such an ordinary evening, that wasn’t to be. The song went mute suddenly and I discovered the other end of my ear-plugs was hanging freely outside the window. Yes, this write-up is a dedication to the fond memories of my first smartphone. To give you some context, back then, most of my other friends still had their Nokias. Mine was a brand new high-end Samsung model that had almost all the coolest features in the market at that time. Having bought it from abroad even before its release in India, it was indeed worth a fortune.
Having dropped it, I was baffled and had no clue what to do. Overhearing my emotional outburst with a friend who was accompanying me, the uncle nearby asked me to pull the chain and walk along the tracks to get the phone. Having pulled the chain, I expected the TT come over with a challan and a dose of rants. But on the contrary, the TT was understanding and told me that it would be a far walk towards the previous station from the point where the train currently stood. Rather, he recommended me to get down at the next station and take an auto to the previous one. So, at the next station, I and my friend got down with our shoulder bags (which were luckily our only luggage). On reaching the other station, we started walking along the tracks to retrieve my prized possession. Even after more than a kilometre’s walk, we weren’t able to spot a trace of it. As kids from the track-side settlement were playing around, we asked them about it. They ran and came back with a couple of ladies, who spoke to us in ‘Kacchi Hariyanvi’. Being a Tamil guy, it was difficult for me to follow, but my friend from Maharashtra had managed to decipher the message. Apparently, a family friend of theirs had come visiting from a nearby village, and he had taken the phone with him as he thought it was abandoned. They gave us his phone number and asked us to take a share-auto to reach his village.
It was winter and the sky was starting to get dark, but I needed to get my phone. So, I called the number they’d given and told him that we are coming to collect the phone. We crammed ourselves in the very first overcrowded share-auto that showed up. In actuality, it wasn’t even a share auto, but an old ‘Royal Enfield Bullet’, that was modified into a motor cart to ferry people. When we got down at our destination, it was considerably dark, and a couple of minutes later, a mob of about 10 approached the road with sticks. They took a close look at us and one of them asked if we were the ones who’d come for the phone. When we answered yes, they were a little relieved and asked us to follow them.
Having dropped it, I was baffled and had no clue what to do. Overhearing my emotional outburst with a friend who was accompanying me, the uncle nearby asked me to pull the chain and walk along the tracks to get the phone. Having pulled the chain, I expected the TT come over with a challan and a dose of rants. But on the contrary, the TT was understanding and told me that it would be a far walk towards the previous station from the point where the train currently stood. Rather, he recommended me to get down at the next station and take an auto to the previous one. So, at the next station, I and my friend got down with our shoulder bags (which were luckily our only luggage). On reaching the other station, we started walking along the tracks to retrieve my prized possession. Even after more than a kilometre’s walk, we weren’t able to spot a trace of it. As kids from the track-side settlement were playing around, we asked them about it. They ran and came back with a couple of ladies, who spoke to us in ‘Kacchi Hariyanvi’. Being a Tamil guy, it was difficult for me to follow, but my friend from Maharashtra had managed to decipher the message. Apparently, a family friend of theirs had come visiting from a nearby village, and he had taken the phone with him as he thought it was abandoned. They gave us his phone number and asked us to take a share-auto to reach his village.
It was winter and the sky was starting to get dark, but I needed to get my phone. So, I called the number they’d given and told him that we are coming to collect the phone. We crammed ourselves in the very first overcrowded share-auto that showed up. In actuality, it wasn’t even a share auto, but an old ‘Royal Enfield Bullet’, that was modified into a motor cart to ferry people. When we got down at our destination, it was considerably dark, and a couple of minutes later, a mob of about 10 approached the road with sticks. They took a close look at us and one of them asked if we were the ones who’d come for the phone. When we answered yes, they were a little relieved and asked us to follow them.
Well, it is likely that the phone guy had thought that we had come there to bash him for having taken the phone. While he was just being cautious, back then, it felt a little childish, and the only thought that ran through me was, “if this man just hands me over my phone, I’d be on my way”. But considering the spree of lynching crimes that are happening now, in retrospect, those events seem to make perfect sense. We walked through some mud roads and reached a hamlet with some small houses. As we were walking through, the entire village had gathered around, and we felt like “Jack Sully” walking through the camp of the Na’vi people in the movie “Avatar”. As we reached the house of the phone guy, he offered us a wired coir cot for us to sit and the rest of the villagers sat around. The entire gathering was lit by only one ‘Tungsten Filament Lamp’ at the doorstep. They offered us tea and curiously inquired about us and the purpose of our journey. Sensing our unease, the woman who offered us tea stated that, ‘unlike in cities, people gathering in groups like this is a usual affair here”. We smiled back to indicate that we were just as relaxed.
The guy then went in and came out with my phone and promptly handed it to me. The screen had developed a complex network of crack veins and the body was also considerably damaged. While the phone’s damage weighed heavily on me, the engaging happenings of the evening had considerably withered it. “Seems like a costly phone, how much is it worth?”, asked one of the villagers. Well, being shrewd enough to not intimidate these folks with its actual cost, “ten-thousand”, I replied. Even, that number evoked a considerable amount of awe on some of their faces. Having finished our tea, the phone guy offered to drop us back on the main road by his tractor. While on the tractor, he explained to us the route to the nearest bus stand that can get us to Dehradun. Finally, he wished us the best for our studies ahead and we thanked him for the evening.
The guy then went in and came out with my phone and promptly handed it to me. The screen had developed a complex network of crack veins and the body was also considerably damaged. While the phone’s damage weighed heavily on me, the engaging happenings of the evening had considerably withered it. “Seems like a costly phone, how much is it worth?”, asked one of the villagers. Well, being shrewd enough to not intimidate these folks with its actual cost, “ten-thousand”, I replied. Even, that number evoked a considerable amount of awe on some of their faces. Having finished our tea, the phone guy offered to drop us back on the main road by his tractor. While on the tractor, he explained to us the route to the nearest bus stand that can get us to Dehradun. Finally, he wished us the best for our studies ahead and we thanked him for the evening.
{an episode from the life of a close friend of mine}
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