I visit Bengaluru regularly even though the United States is where I have settled down. I come with a lot of enthusiasm and well prepared to meet the challenges of changing my lifestyle in the place I fondly call home.
This time, after a long hiatus imposed by Covid, I came armed with vaccination certificates, negative test results and a triumphant smile on my face. Though disappointed at the indifference shown by the immigration officials at the airport to my proud display of certificates and negative test results, I made my way to the airport exit with a brave face.
I turned on my phone to connect with my designated pick-up and suddenly realised that I had forgotten to sign up for international calling with my carrier in the US. My mind blanked out for a moment but recovered quickly enough to pursue the Plan B. I jumped into the next taxi in line and gave my destination as the “nearest mobile service provider shop”.
The driver looked me up and down, perhaps wondering what sort of a man had his abode in a telecom carrier’s retail outlet. He nevertheless deposited me at the said location in 30 minutes. I took out my wallet to pay him and realised that I had forgotten to collect some local currency at the airport.
The taxi driver was a step ahead of me and said that I should first sort out my mobile phone business before attempting to draw money from an ATM which required an OTP, a term that would come to haunt me over the next few weeks. Heeding good advice, I entered the shop and came out armed with a local mobile phone, but not before having to rummage through my two suitcases for the prized Aadhaar card, wisely obtained a few years ago.
Next, after a crash course from my driver on what and how to use an OTP, I confidently entered my bank’s ATM enclosure and attempted to withdraw money. Prompt came the response, “enter OTP”. My newly acquired mobile phone and I stared at each other and came out no wiser as there was no OTP in sight.
Looking at my plight, the taxi driver said, with some amusement, “Sir, has this new mobile number been registered with your bank?”
To cut a long story short and to hide my embarrassment, I will just state that I went home, paid for the taxi from my dad’s wallet, went to my bank after a few hours and sorted things out and registered my mobile number. This was followed by a long, tense interaction with the ATM and when I heard the sweet sound of an OTP arriving on my new mobile device, I felt like the winner of a mega lottery.
Over the next several days, in attempting to complete several financial transactions, I received and used no less than a hundred OTPs, putting to shame any IPL batsman attempting to score the fastest century.