One evening some years ago, returning home from office, I spotted my father walking ahead of me, accompanied by a neighbour. Though his companion was much younger than him, I knew they had a great rapport, and my father was evidently engrossed in conversation. Though we would meet in a few minutes anyway, I tried calling him so that he could share my pleasure of seeing him already. Thanks to my constant nagging, he was carrying his mobile phone. It was his first phone, which he had acquired recently, after I received my first salary. It had very limited extra features, one of which was voice recording. So of course I had recorded myself saying ‘Dad, pick up the phone’ and set it as his ringtone. However, by the time he had figured out, in the midst of his talk, that his phone was ringing, which pocket it was in and which button to press, they had reached home. So I disconnected the line. A minute later I stepped in and explained that I had been calling for no particular reason. The neighbour, who had been rather amused at the ringtone, said, “Clearly, your father is yet to get used to it. When the phone rang, and your voice repeated ‘Dad, pick up the phone’ from inside his pocket, he impatiently and spontaneously replied, ‘Yes, yes, wait!’”


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