I wonder if anyone remembers the note titled 'Every woman should have' that was circulating the internet a couple of years ago. It listed a number of things some of which made sense- like a set of tools, and a reliable recipe for 'company'. I would like to add one thing to that list: a landline.
Shortly, very shortly after I moved to Dehradun I went and got me a phone. I did it myself and acquired a good dose of self-confidence along with the phone connection. I met interesting people along the way, and they helped me feel at home. The broadband connection allowed me to skype with Mian and enabled me to sail through times that would otherwise have been lonely. That phone bill increased my legitimacy and allowed me to open a separate bank account, renew my passport, replace my lost PAN card. In case of a glitch in cellphone connections, I had the landline as a backup. Above all, it was mine. It was a phone connection I had untangled red tape for. It was my claim to responsible citizenship.
And so when I left Dun I was loth to abandon the phone. Despite not knowing where we would be going, and despite the fact that I could always get another, I did not want to let this go. Instead, I ran through bureaucratic loops once more, and put it in safe custody- a lovely term for BSNL's holding on to the connection for me.
But it is not working out well. There are no phones where I stay. Getting them to lay a line will take more energy than I have. And today, I started the process of terminating my phone connection by applying that it be taken out of safe custody.
It has been nine months since I left Dun. The hard, nearly homeless, cold days are over. Now we have a home, furniture, a garden, a dog even. I have two cell connections and a data card that allows me to be connected no matter where I am. I am glad to stop paying every month for a phone that I do not use, and do not see any way to begin using.
Why then, do I feel bereft?
Shortly, very shortly after I moved to Dehradun I went and got me a phone. I did it myself and acquired a good dose of self-confidence along with the phone connection. I met interesting people along the way, and they helped me feel at home. The broadband connection allowed me to skype with Mian and enabled me to sail through times that would otherwise have been lonely. That phone bill increased my legitimacy and allowed me to open a separate bank account, renew my passport, replace my lost PAN card. In case of a glitch in cellphone connections, I had the landline as a backup. Above all, it was mine. It was a phone connection I had untangled red tape for. It was my claim to responsible citizenship.
And so when I left Dun I was loth to abandon the phone. Despite not knowing where we would be going, and despite the fact that I could always get another, I did not want to let this go. Instead, I ran through bureaucratic loops once more, and put it in safe custody- a lovely term for BSNL's holding on to the connection for me.
But it is not working out well. There are no phones where I stay. Getting them to lay a line will take more energy than I have. And today, I started the process of terminating my phone connection by applying that it be taken out of safe custody.
It has been nine months since I left Dun. The hard, nearly homeless, cold days are over. Now we have a home, furniture, a garden, a dog even. I have two cell connections and a data card that allows me to be connected no matter where I am. I am glad to stop paying every month for a phone that I do not use, and do not see any way to begin using.
Why then, do I feel bereft?
1 comment:
I don't have a landline . I feel very sad about it. Something or the other keeps postponing the revival of my old number
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