Prank Star
“Since that day, I don’t make any cell phone pranks.” said Mamaji pulling himself up from the cot to make his way to the door, “Pranks can turn out to be very expensive, you see.”
It was a bright February afternoon as me; Kutty and Singh were sitting with our regular deck of cards, for Dhiraj to arrive for our regular Sunday game. The sun was setting on the Arabian Sea showering pure gold on everything, and a nice breeze just started flowing into my 15th floor room.
Other days, Dhiraj would generally be the first one to arrive, followed by Kutty. Singh was always the last man. But Dhiraj was late that afternoon. We had already split the cards in four decks, and I had discovered that I had an amazing hand with 3 aces and 2 queens! I could barely wait to start the game, but Dhiraj was taking his time.
Soon Dhiraj entered the room trotting a brand new ultra-smart-phone. Before our hypnotized eyes, Dhiraj explained that it was a gift from his uncle who just visited from Dubai. We knew that Dhiraj had gone to meet this uncle two days ago at some relative’s place at Peddar Road, and anticipated he’d come back with a substantial gift, but this phone surpassed all calculations. It was an awesome global-icon phone loaded with hundreds of useful – or useless - features. I am yet to find even one person who actually uses even fifty percent of the ‘features’ of his digital phone. Anyway, Dhiraj started demonstrating the little wonder. I was too keen to start our game - but the phone hogged the limelight, making rounds from hand to hand receiving hot admirations.
After about 15 minutes as everybody was roughly done ‘feeling’ the device, I suggested that we get to the game. I pushed Dhiraj’s cards into his palm and said to Kutty, “OK, let’s start the calls then?”
Singh said “Wait a minute. Dhiraj needs to check his cards too!”
Dhiraj gave me a naughty look from the corner of his eyes and said, “You are in a hurry! Got a good hand, have you?”
I got miffed realizing my tactical mistake, and leaked a little casual smile together with a big shake of my big head, trying to control the damage. I tried to sit casually enough so as not to show any more desperation, lest it became too obvious that I really had a great hand. So Dhiraj took quite a few convenient and agonizing minutes to check his cards as I tried hard to stay composed, to avoid more mistakes exposing my fortune.
Just when Kutty was just about to start the calls, Mamaji entered the room with a big “Hello boys!” in his booming voice.
I immediately winked at Kutty and he swiftly tossed the phone to Singh, hoping Singh would be able to hide it in his big Sardar hands. We did not want Mamaji to notice the phone and take a seat in the room to further spoil the evening. But as difficult it was to fool Mamaji –Singh’s brain just wasn’t as big as his hands. To our total horror, Singh actually held the phone up and said cheerfully, “Dekha Mamaji, Dhiraj ka naya phone!”
“You bought this phone!” Mamaji sounded suspicious as he took the phone from Singh. Dhiraj, still checking his cards, briefly explained the uncle story. I tried my best to snatch the phone from Mamaji, but Mamaji swiftly moved it away to his right hand and started appreciating the device.
Unable to shift his attention from the phone and desperate to start the game, I said, “Mamaji, isn’t it time for your stroll? What a golden evening!”
Mamaji took a casual glance at the setting sun and said, “There’ll be another sunset tomorrow, but this phone may not be here until next Sunday.”
So for the next 20 minutes, we silently watched Mamaji scrutinize the phone with childlike curiosity, asking Dhiraj about each and every ‘feature’ making him busy. We badly wanted to start our game but Mamaji wasn’t ready to let go. With great enthusiasm, he clicked several snaps including a video with the full-HD camera.
Eventually returning the phone to Dhiraj, Mamaji said, “Guess I’ll leave now. You boys carry on.”
Kutty immediately declared “One Diamond”, followed by Dhiraj’s response of two-hearts. But before I could place a call, Singh said to Dhiraj, “Dhiru, let’s try a new prank on a friend of mine with your phone. Give it to me.”
At this latest threat to this troubled but desired game, I just forgot all calling strategies. A big ‘5 no-trumps’ suddenly leaked down my brain and slipped out of my lips. Hearing my call, Singh almost fell off the cot.
But Mamaji looked at Singh with a raised brow and said, “Prank!?”
Singh got very nervous before those raised eyebrows as Mamaji gathered himself back on the cot. Then he said with all gravity, “Surinder, never ever make any pranks on cell phones. Want to know why?”
“Prank? What prank?” mumbled Singh. But Mamaji scoffed big time to clear his throat. There goes our game, I thought.
Mamaji started, “Quite some time ago when mobiles were launched in India, I bought a black & white piece for my business. I didn’t have a real purpose with it – it was more of a status symbol to have one. It was a measure of a successful man. Mobiles were a very expensive proposition at that time. But quickly handsets and service both became affordable and soon came the day when everybody had a mobile. Later, everybody got an email ID. And then came the day when everybody had a profile on a social networking website on the internet.”
“It was through one of these networking sites that I reconnected with many old friends after years, including Guha. Guha was my close buddy in college. Friendly, energetic and innovative, Guha was great company. After graduation, keeping in touch became increasingly difficult as we stayed at two corners of Kolkata. Few years later I moved to Bombay with a job and had to put my Kolkata days behind. Forget cell phones, even a landline was a luxury during our youth. And long distance calls were too expensive, not to mention that one needed to book a call in advance and then wait for hours to get connected. Letters sent by post were the general way to connect, but writing long letters has never really been a habit of young men I presume. Our friendship was eventually lost in time.”
Quickly grazing our faces with a fond look, Mamaji continued, “In this social networking site, I found Guha after nearly 20 years. The semi-bald plump fellow in the photo was hard to recognize, but many known people present within his network left no doubt - it was indeed Guha.”
“Apparently, he was working in a medium-sized company in Kolkata, and his mobile number was visible on his info. Not sure what came upon me, instead of calling him and reconnecting, I decided to pull a prank. Guha was a real prankster in our group. My college memories are dotted with Guha’s pranks and the faces of his hapless victims. No harm to give him a benign dose of his own medicine – I thought.”
“I am not much of an innovative thinker. Some old ideas crossed my mind, and I decided to go with the standard prank – remain hidden and disturb him till he gets seriously bugged, and then reveal my identity. Juvenile – but I could think of only this one.”
Mamaji smiled as he continued, “I tried to be as innovative as I can, and sent several SMS to Guha with confusing messages. Like, ‘How are you darling?’ or ‘Why did you tell me you LOVE me, despite having a wife?’ Pretending to be a woman, I asked him to come over to my place because I forgive him, etc.”
“To the very first SMS, Guha replied in a courteous manner asking who sent the SMS. ‘I do not recognize this number, please identify yourself’ – something like this was his reply.”
“I enjoyed my position of power, and continued sending realistic messages. I pleaded he should take me back in his arms. I requested him to accept our child. I tried to design the messages so he could not be too sure if they were really coming from some confused woman by mistake, or from an old friend. I was having fun sending the messages while imagining his confused face. But later I got bored since - but for that single reply - Guha didn’t budge. I expected Guha to get angry and frustrated, and call up my mobile venting fire. But Guha just kept mum.”
“Next day, I realized it was me who was doing hard work. I was praying desperately for Guha to call me up so I could be over with this! Guha was too smart for me to outsmart him with this stupid prank; I pondered while kicking my own ass.”
“Sort of admitting defeat, I called him up in the afternoon - ready to hear him yell at me. To my surprise, Guha didn’t pick it up. I called him many times till late night – but his phone just kept ringing. Either he was very angry, or it was a masterly ploy - not to pick-up my calls making me totally helpless. He was turning the joke on me – Guha style!”
“I called him from several other phones, but he didn’t pick up. He was clever to realize it could be the same caller. End of the day I was exhausted, and unbelievably desperate to talk to him just once to explain everything. But I was helpless.”
“I kept calling him the next day also – but Guha never picked up. I sent several SMS asking him to pick the phone just once, but no response ever came from Guha. Upset and angry, I sent more naughty SMS, and felt more remorse. I rang him till late night, till I finally gave up.”
The very last rays of the setting sun were pouring red-hot gold into the room now. In that magical light, Mamaji’s pensive face looked almost serene.
“And that’s how a lost friend was lost again, right? That’s a remarkable lesson, Singh?” Kutty told Singh with obvious fake sincerity.
“Yeah – cell phone pranks are very bad.” Dhiraj immediately added finding his voice, “Did you say 5 no trumps!?”
I was still thinking how to get out of this ‘5 no-trumps’ mess when Singh – his brain thicker than his bones – asked, “Mamaji, why didn’t you send one SMS revealing your true identity?”
“How could he? That’d have solved the situation and saved the friendship, and then Mamaji would not have this great lesson to give you today, Singh.” I said. “Perhaps we should call fresh from the beginning.”
But Mamaji sighed so heavily that my voice was lost.
“I was a victim of vanity.” Mamaji said to Singh with droopy eyes. “I could have messaged him who I was, but I did not. I was feeling sorry for the turn of events – mainly because I was losing it. I started that game, and Guha was winning. I was the one who ended up frustrated and angry! He had surely understood it was a prank by some old friend, but still didn’t respond. So, why should I bother? However sad I feel in retrospect, at that time this seemed perfectly logical.”
Mamaji sighed heavily again, and so did we. I could not even feel like try and stop Singh when I heard him asking, “Phir kya hua Mamaji!”
“What to happen? The true-friends turned into true-enemies for life – like Spiderman and Harry!” a very frustrated Kutty just could not help but shout at Singh, “Focus on the moral, Singh – cell phone pranks are injurious to relationships!”
“Yeah - pranks can backfire. Now, why don’t you start the fresh calls?” I said to Kutty in a last ditch effort to salvage my continually sinking dream-game.
Intensely looking at me with the same pensive face, Mamaji promptly said “No, the shock came the next day.”
“It was a Saturday. Right in the middle of the morning hours in the office, a SMS came up from Guha’s number. Written in typical SMS lingo, the message was something like this - ‘U HV CAUSED ME GRT LOSS. WIFE FOUND UR SMS N HAD HEART ATTACK. SHE MAY NOT LIVE. IF I EVER WRONGED U, FORGIVE ME, WHOEVER U R’.”
There was a sudden silence in the room. Outside, the golden sun was preparing to dive into the Arabian Sea. As if his voice was coming from a great distance, Mamaji continued, “I wish I could adequately express how I felt when I read that SMS. My own heart literally jumped to my throat. I thought for a while about what I should do. I decided to take responsibility for my action. Otherwise I would not be able to live with myself.”
“Since Guha would not pick up my calls, I was out of options. I finally sent the one SMS revealing my identity, asking him to pick up my calls.” said Mamaji in a very tired voice, “The next call I made, he picked it up alright.”
“A moment so awkward rarely comes in life. A pair of old buddies suddenly not in a position to even talk freely - thanks to one silly prank. You can never fathom the absolute guilt I was feeling. Guha was calm when he realized it was me, and repeatedly asked me not to kick my own ass too hard because whatever happened was not intentional. But that hardly helped.”
“I found out Guha was in a financial fix. He was planning to break a Fixed Deposit or take a loan to cover the treatment costs of Manjula. But his bank was to close by 12 noon as it was a Saturday, and he was still stuck in the hospital. Manjula was scheduled for a bypass surgery the next day, and Guha sounded unsure about money. The hospital bills were already over thirty thousands and at least fifty thousands were to be deposited on that very day, failing which the treatment would suffer.”
“I promptly offered to loan him some money. Guha refused and said there are other sources he’d collect the cash from - I need not worry. But I was determined to make amends. I asked him to stay in the hospital and focus on the treatment. I took his bank details – which was a private bank with national infrastructure - and in the next one hour transferred fifty thousand Rupees by cash to his account in Kolkata by visiting a branch of the same bank located close to my office at Andheri. Such cash deposits work instantaneously, so I informed Guha that money has been credited. Guha thanked me a lot, and that only made me feel more guilt.”
“In the evening, Guha called me up. We had a long chat, and I eventually stopped apologizing. Guha informed that Manjula’s surgery may not be required. The situation may not have been that bad. I felt relieved. I offered to come to Kolkata the next morning to further help him, but Guha assured me that wasn’t necessary. Only if I knew what shock was waiting for me the next morning.”
Mamaji had to pause for a moment as Singh exclaimed, “More shock!”
“Yeah, more shock. She died the next morning. Why do you imbeciles pull stupid cell-phone pranks?” Kutty shouted at Singh so hard as if it was Singh’s fault if Guha’s wife died.
But our unstoppable Sardar said, “Oye chup ho ja - koiee nahi maraa. Right, Mamaji?”
Mamaji gave a long look at Singh, and then said, “Next morning at around 10 AM, a devastated Guha called me up. Manjula had indeed passed away on the operation table in the morning. Her broken heart could not be mended by a team of expert surgeons.”
Glancing around our pale faces, Mamaji said, “I cannot even try to explain to you boys how I felt. It was as if a million drums were beating in my ears, and the walls of my familiar living room were closing in on me, like you see in the movies. The phone dropped from my hand on the floor and broke into 2 pieces with a big thud. I fell back on the sofa. The pain was unbearable.”
Mamaji shifted his body weight on his left hip, as if to relieve some of that unbearable pain.
“My wife came running into the room hearing the commotion. Looking at me and the phone, she was panicked. She started asking so many questions that I had to share the full story. You can imagine her condition - she started crying hysterically.”
“That’s understandable. What a shock!” Singh sounded sympathetic.
“No, the real shock came another hour later,” said Mamaji. “At about 11.30 AM, our door bell rang. Afraid it might be some nosy neighbor coming to investigate the commotion, I opened the door with hesitation.”
“I found a man and a woman standing with ear-to-ear smiles, holding a big basket of fruits and sweets. I immediately recognized Guha, and anticipated the woman to be Manjula.”
“What? What does that mean?” Singh could barely control himself.
“It means nothing ever happened. The bugger got flustered at my SMS prank, planned a counter prank, fabricated a story of ‘heart attack’ to make me feel guilty enough to reveal who I was, took my fifty thousands, bought same-day return flight, and came to Bombay to meet me.”
“Since that day, I don’t make any cell phone pranks.” said Mamaji pulling himself up from the cot to make his way to the door, “Pranks can turn out to be very expensive, you see.”
The End
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