Passing on the phone calls

The phenomenon of passing on the ‘engaged phone’ to someone else is pretty common. The possible reason could be, post picking up the phone, suddenly they perceive they aren’t in a proper position for a prolonged chat. So, the phone gets shuffled off to a ‘standby’— this sounds like a predator waiting to pounce upon unsuspecting prey. And, if you happen to be that ‘prey’, heaven help.

Recently, on muggy noon, nudged by nagging ennui, I thought of having a nice natter with a naval friend. So, when I called, compulsively she picked up the phone. But soon, realised she was at a crucial stage of churning out carrot halwa, and that it’d culminate in a culinary debacle of charred concoction if her concentration line got careened. “Hey, chat with my aunt, who is here presently”. Even before I could react, her aunt was on the line.

Possibly, I wasn’t prepared for this chat. Even more unprepared was for unsolicited Gyan, proffered on perfect halwa preparation by her uber perky aunt. How carrots are to be sluiced, swiftly skinned, skilfully kibbled, sautéed on super-low flame, in sugar-syrup of specific consistency, to see it neither gets soppy nor seared at the lower surface. Well, all details were dished out, with dollops of zest. Until my zest to chatter with my buddy had blown out.

Yet another time, when a collegemate had called me to have cosy confab, her courier guy was the culprit in corroding our fun. Not wanting to cut the call, she handed her phone to her father-in-law, who was around. Indeed, it was a bolt from blue, to have got badly buttonholed, by this bubbly old fella, who began blitzing me with bountiful info, right from his BP and blood-sugar levels to his busy fitness-regimes, which had buttressed and buffered his body against a blizzard of ailments.

Still worse, you have relatives, who in midst of serious chats, suddenly shuffle off their cell phone onto their grand/kids. Now, what you hear, depends entirely upon the age of kids. If it is an infant, you hear incoherent gurgles. If the child is around three summers, you hear rhymes like “tinkle tinkle litt-tal tar...” or numbers, “one, choo, chee, foh...” (And, more inane prattle if the child is even bigger). On hearing which you helplessly chuckle. And it sounds like a nice combo of a nettling hiccup and nasty burp. Yes, you attribute the above “dreary drivels” to your previous birth karmas.

Well, as I’m penning this piece, I hear the phone ring, flashing an unidentified number. What if it’s a family friend? I dither to pick up or not. I smile as I see my ‘spouse’ bustling around. So, if disinclined to chat, don’t I have this deadly option?— “Hey, isn’t it eons, since you spoke to ‘him’. He is right here, wanna catch up?”