My 12-year-old daughter, Divya, had been asking
me for a cellphone for a couple of years and I finally
decided to buy her one, not because I thought she
absolutely needed one, but because I was tired of her
borrowing mine.
“Daddy, can I use your phone for just a minute?”
she would ask. An hour later, she would still be using
the phone, and when I finally retrieved it from
her grasp, I would discover several new apps that she
had downloaded.
The new apps didn’t bother me much, but I wasn’t
thrilled about receiving dozens of notifications such
as “Jessica liked your comment” and “Rupa shared
your photo.”
Divya wanted an iPhone, because her friends have
Apple products and it would be easier to communicate
with them. The iPhone 6 and 7 were priced too high
for our budget, so we settled for an iPhone 5, though
it wasn’t exactly cheap, at least by my standards. I
reluctantly parted with $150 for the phone, fearing that
I would regret the expense.
My phone, in comparison, cost me only $80, and if I
happen to lose it, I probably won’t lose much sleep. Just
a week or two. If Divya loses her phone, I might lose a
month of sleep, especially if she starts borrowing my
phone again.
What concerns me is that she takes her phone
to school. All the other kids do it, she said, so why
shouldn’t she? Besides, how is she supposed to occupy
herself during the bus ride to school?
“Why don’t you talk to other kids?” I asked.
She looked at me like it was the most ridiculous
thing she had ever heard. “Oh Daddy, nobody does
that anymore.”
I hate to see Divya being obsessed with her phone,
and I also worry that she will lose it or have it stolen
from her.
I don’t understand how people can walk around
with phones that cost $750 or more. If I spent that much
on a phone, I’d want it to be immobile—not mobile. I’d
want to keep it in one spot, preferably inside our home,
where I can make sure it doesn’t get lost or stolen.
For many people, phones are status symbols, no
different from wearing expensive jewelry. But there’s
one major difference: jewelry is usually attached to our
bodies in some way, unlike a cellphone, which is far
more likely to fall out of our grasp—and into the toilet.
Numerous cellphones take the plunge each year,
not just into toilets, but into swimming pools, lakes,
rivers, and many other places where cellphones aren’t
intended to go. For the average American, it’s a loss of
not just a few hundred dollars, but also a few hundred
cat photos.
Just recently, a man from New York City was traveling
on a train, moving from one car to another, when
he dropped his phone on the tracks. So what did he do?
He pulled the emergency stop.
As reported by the Associated Press, Eric Jones apparently
considered it an emergency that he was about
to lose his phone. Thanks to his “emergency,” the other
passengers on the train, taking the morning commute
to work, were delayed, and perhaps late for work. Other
trains on several connected lines were also delayed.
Jones was charged with “defiant trespass” and “interfering
with transportation.” The article does not say
how much Jones’ phone was worth, but it was apparently
worth a lot to him.
As for me, if my phone dropped on railroad tracks,
I’d just whisper “bye” to it and turn toward my daughter.
“Divya,” I’d say. “Can I borrow your phone? Just for
a minute, I promise.”
Compiled and partly written by Indian humorist MELVIN DURAI, author of the novel Bala Takes the Plunge.
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