A call that saved a life

I was relaxing at home, deeply involved in a book, when my mobile phone rang. On the phone's screen was an unfamiliar number with a 0712 prefix, which meant the call was from Nagpur.

"Hello?" I picked up the phone.

"Haan, Ketan, it's me." It was my dad calling. He had a Reliance mobile phone and, in those days, they used to allot a temporary number when their customers travelled outside the city. That was why the number displayed on my phone was unfamiliar.

We talked for some time and then disconnected.

After a couple of hours or so, the phone rang again. The same number was displayed on the screen of my mobile phone. Instead of my dad, however, it was a woman speaking on the other side.

"Hello," she said hesitantly, "hello... Who's speaking?"

I felt a flash of irritation -- when a call has been placed, it is assumed that the caller should know whom he has called… so what on earth was this woman up to?

"Yeah," I answered a bit rudely. "This is Ketan from Bombay. But who are you and how do you have this phone?"

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"WHAT?" I sprang to my feet. My heart was in my mouth and I was shaking. "Old man... unconscious... Who... what... where are you?" I asked her.

"I am calling from Nagpur...  Dharampeth...," she replied patiently. "An old gentleman has fallen down on the street here. I found this mobile phone in his pocket. I pressed the redial button, hoping I could find who he is and where he lives."

I told her where to find my mom and our relatives. After we hung up, I frantically called up our relatives in Nagpur to ensure my father got the appropriate treatment.

Much later, I found out what had happened. My dad, who had stepped out for a stroll, had suffered a mini-stroke and collapsed in the street. The stroke had caused him to vomit profusely, so passers-by thought he was a drunkard sleeping off his booze. Until the woman who called me took a closer look and decided he did not look like a drunkard.

My mom and our relatives who lived just 50 feet away had no clue as to what had happened. Nine hundred kilometres away in Mumbai, a phone call from a kind and thoughtful stranger ensured I was the first to know.

Thanks to that stranger, tragedy sidestepped our family that day. My father received prompt medical attention and is fine now.

Yet, I can't help wondering:

• What if my father hadn't taken his mobile phone with him on his evening stroll?
  
• What if the last person he called had been someone other me?
  
• What if the person who found the phone did not know how to use it? What if there was no one around who could have helped her?
  
• What if he had not called me earlier? Then I would not have known his temporary number and, in those days when incoming calls also cost money, it was quite possible that I would not taken the call.

The bill for my dad's mobile phone continues to be as erratic as ever and he was grumbling about it just the other day. But I smiled and paid up without a murmur.

Illustration: Lynette Menezes