Phones: There Was Time When Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

A feature phone nor yet was smart,
Nor had a store of memories,
Nor could it claim state of the art,
To it still go fond reveries.

A time it was you come home when,
And enquire if someone did call—
A caller list was handed then
In a note pad that hung on wall.

And yea it was such nice feeling
Of being wanted in a world,
Your steps might well acquire a spring,
And what ease to call back unstirred!

Fine, the phone was not at all smart,
A big black monster it was in deed,
You would not for your life it part,
A long queue waited for its bid.

And precious was the Tele number,
Phone too big, wired and unwieldy,
Its supplier a cool cucumber,
With you ‘till death or destiny'!

And privacy was out of port,
Availed nor yet available,
Like scrutiny in open court,
A corner's all you were able.

There were Hellos, can you hear me?
Literally you had to shout,
And earphones were not yet handy,
It was a virtual yelling bout.

Trunk calls were a special event—
Energy sapping marathon,
Or like a hundred-metre sprint,
For just minutes three you are on.

Or for an extra time you plead
That may not be always given,
And the talks were always hurried—
On extra time game lost or won.

And there were phone booths so galore,
Where you need to insert a coin,
A set procedure, tiring lore,
A long queue whilst waited to join.

And yet, there was phone etiquette,
A thing now of an ancient time,
No calls of Hi ho-hum in spate,
No calls called sans reason nor rhyme.

Mid-night calls calamitous were,
Else, whole house would come to standstill,
A pounding heart and gloom in air,
Till sounded is an all-clear bell.

Those were days it seems long time ere,
When phones never intrusive were,
Benign, though as a black beast known,
You them owned, they did not you own.
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Nostalgia | 07.05.18 |