The Kolkata Report #1

I am back in the Land of Powerful and Ultimate Excuses. It took several days to regain connectivity and equilibrium. I knew these days would throw up several such and of course, I was not disappointed. However, relating all of them would make both yours and mine eyes glaze over, or else shed tears of sorrow or laughter, depending on whether you are of a compassionate or of an awful cynical nature.
So, I'll try to recount one a day, so as not to overwhelm you.
Last year, I bought a 'landline' phone, only it was not strictly a landline phone. Oldies like me, find great comfort in the descriptions of our erstwhile dear devices, as stated in wikipedia
'A traditional landline telephone system, also known as plain old telephone service (POTS), commonly carries both control and audio signals on the same twisted pair (C in diagram) of insulated wires, the telephone line. The control and signaling equipment consists of three components, the ringer, the hookswitch, and a dial. The ringer, or beeper, light or other device (A7), alerts the user to incoming calls. The hookswitch signals to the central office that the user has picked up the handset to either answer a call or initiate a call. A dial, if present, is used by the subscriber to transmit a telephone number to the central office when initiating a call. Until the 1960s dials used almost exclusively the rotary technology, which was replaced by dual-tone multi-frequency signaling (DTMF) with pushbutton telephones (A4)'
All that has been condensed into a small slab, the size of the 100 gm. Amul butter pack or even thinner. Though they are marvels of science and technology, they are also, covert disrupters of our lives, having taken over almost every function of our brains, and that have us as addicts, craving for ever more of that.
But I digress. I had been paying a very small rental monthly fee for that device, with the assurance that only calls to be made on that phone would be charged, and that too, at a nominal rate.
This phone was also supplied by a renowned business group called Tata Teleservices, and I also used an internet 'dongle' from them. I cannot complain too much about the services they provided; after all, every system has its glitches.
I gathered that the telecom industry was roiling in scandal and legal tangles, even as it surged forward to provide connectivity to millions of Indians. In fact, it was a somewhat tragicomic and incongruous situation to see people squatting in the fields among their crops, to attend the urgent 'calls of nature', with cell phones to their ears. The cart with a bullock hitched on one front and a Mercedes Benz on the other, turning in circles.
Well, of the last 3 months or so, I began to receive online notices about the need to take my device in, to change from CDMA to SMS or something of that nature. There were enticements and freebies in order to effect this change.
I wrote back to a very persistent Customer Service agent, who had been on my tail to get this done, saying that I would be in Kolkata later in April and could get the work done then. So, here I am, with my phone set in hand, standing in front of a shuttered Docomo store. 'It has been closed down for several months', says the local panwala, the wikipedia of the locality, 'It may have moved to Tollygunj Phari (a transportation depot)'. I am shocked. This was a large and bustling store, when I bought the device from here, just over a year previously.
I decide to try another Docomo store on Kolkata's elite Park Street, their prestigious flagship store. It is also shuttered.

I realize with a shock, that in the past month all the Docomo stores have vanished, and we never even knew.

I try to call the helpline, a stubbornly opaque automated system, which cheerfully tells you that you have exceeded all allowed attempts and bids you goodbye, thanking you for calling Tata Docomo.
I feel that hollow feeling that one gets when one returns home, to find your dearest neighbor has picked up and departed suddenly in your absence and left no forwarding address.
I turn to Facebook and find their page. There are 12 million 'likes' registered, among whom I spot some known persons.
I vent my ire and annoyance. I send them a message. Someone behind the screen, on the page, responds fairly soon. They have taken note of my complaint and they'll get back to me, they say. Of course, they won't.
I go and get a service plan from their competitor.
It's business as usual, I suppose.


April 29th, 2018