<p class="bodytext">During the 1980s and 1990s, owning a landline was a dream, a symbol of prestige for the middle class, and a source of constant frustration for those daring to embark on the formidable journey of acquiring one. </p>.<p class="bodytext">My father, possessing the patience of a thousand saints, booked a landline phone for our house. After 12 agonising years --of countless visits to the local office, and patience being tested to the limits--on a quiet afternoon, the doorbell rang and someone said “telephone.” I jumped, nearly spilling the hot coffee I was enjoying. With shaky hands, I rushed to the door, where a technician stood, holding a glorious box— the long-awaited landline phone had finally arrived!</p>.<p class="bodytext">We welcomed the technician offering him coffee and a seat on the couch. As he set up the phone, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I imagined himself making calls to far-off lands, wishing relatives on Diwali and Pongal and long chats with friends.</p>.<p class="bodytext">After the technician set it up, my father dialled his friend’s number, waiting impatiently for the ring. As he heard the familiar sound, he let out a triumphant cheer, nearly deafening the poor technician. He had done it; he had become the proud owner of a landline phone!</p>.<p class="bodytext">From that day, my household transformed into a hub of communication. Friends and neighbours flocked to our home just to make a call, and dinner parties became impromptu phone conferences. I became the building’s unofficial phone operator, relishing the power and responsibility that came with connecting people. I delivered news of newborns, appointments to new jobs and exam results. </p>.<p class="bodytext">But, their joy was not without its quirks. Making a call required a delicate balance of patience, determination, and sheer luck. Dialling a number was no simple task; it involved the rhythmic dance of rotating the dial, praying for a strong enough connection, and hoping it would hold to get the right number. Wrong numbers sometimes led to interesting stories: people enjoyed talking to strangers on the other side for hours, forming life-long friendships, or even ending up as life partners. Landline phones truly embodied Nokia’s slogan, “connecting people,” with two hands joining together.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Nevertheless, the landline phone brought a sense of pride, connection, and a shared space for laughter and gossip. It was a time when personal conversations weren’t confined to tiny screens and fleeting text messages. Landline phones remind us of a different era, where conversations could be heard, laughter shared, and connections strengthened.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The landline phone may be a relic of the past now, but its legacy remains forever etched in the hearts and memories of those who experienced the epic journey of acquiring one.</p>
<p class="bodytext">During the 1980s and 1990s, owning a landline was a dream, a symbol of prestige for the middle class, and a source of constant frustration for those daring to embark on the formidable journey of acquiring one. </p>.<p class="bodytext">My father, possessing the patience of a thousand saints, booked a landline phone for our house. After 12 agonising years --of countless visits to the local office, and patience being tested to the limits--on a quiet afternoon, the doorbell rang and someone said “telephone.” I jumped, nearly spilling the hot coffee I was enjoying. With shaky hands, I rushed to the door, where a technician stood, holding a glorious box— the long-awaited landline phone had finally arrived!</p>.<p class="bodytext">We welcomed the technician offering him coffee and a seat on the couch. As he set up the phone, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I imagined himself making calls to far-off lands, wishing relatives on Diwali and Pongal and long chats with friends.</p>.<p class="bodytext">After the technician set it up, my father dialled his friend’s number, waiting impatiently for the ring. As he heard the familiar sound, he let out a triumphant cheer, nearly deafening the poor technician. He had done it; he had become the proud owner of a landline phone!</p>.<p class="bodytext">From that day, my household transformed into a hub of communication. Friends and neighbours flocked to our home just to make a call, and dinner parties became impromptu phone conferences. I became the building’s unofficial phone operator, relishing the power and responsibility that came with connecting people. I delivered news of newborns, appointments to new jobs and exam results. </p>.<p class="bodytext">But, their joy was not without its quirks. Making a call required a delicate balance of patience, determination, and sheer luck. Dialling a number was no simple task; it involved the rhythmic dance of rotating the dial, praying for a strong enough connection, and hoping it would hold to get the right number. Wrong numbers sometimes led to interesting stories: people enjoyed talking to strangers on the other side for hours, forming life-long friendships, or even ending up as life partners. Landline phones truly embodied Nokia’s slogan, “connecting people,” with two hands joining together.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Nevertheless, the landline phone brought a sense of pride, connection, and a shared space for laughter and gossip. It was a time when personal conversations weren’t confined to tiny screens and fleeting text messages. Landline phones remind us of a different era, where conversations could be heard, laughter shared, and connections strengthened.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The landline phone may be a relic of the past now, but its legacy remains forever etched in the hearts and memories of those who experienced the epic journey of acquiring one.</p>