Nissar H. Gilani
In 1965, my late father, Dr. S.M. Amin Glani, decided to install a landline phone at our ancestral home, Yarkand House, Mallaratta, Srinagar. This decision was driven by his need to stay connected with patients, friends, and relatives. The initial installation cost was a modest 75 rupees, followed by a monthly bill of around 15 rupees. However, the landline facility was quite different back then. Calls were limited, and exceeding the allowed number would incur additional charges.
The process of making a call was laborious. One would lift the receiver, and an operator would respond, connecting you to the desired number. This process would take anywhere from 3-4 minutes to even 10 minutes, depending on the response from the other end. Although one could talk for any length of time, the operator would often intervene if there was another call waiting.
I vividly remember an incident when one of my close relatives was engaged in a lengthy conversation with his fiancée. The operator, seemingly amused by their conversation, started singing, prompting my relative to disconnect the call and reprimand the operator. The operator, however, argued for some time before dropping the call with a quote from Ghalib’s poetry, further irritating my relative. The next day, a written complaint was lodged with the officer in charge at the Lal Chowk exchange office.
The matter was eventually resolved with a written apology from the operator and his subsequent transfer to a non-functional branch. It was a victory for my relative, who could then spend hours talking to his fiancée without any intervention from the operators. At that time, telephone numbers were short, typically just four digits, making them easy to remember. The limited number of landline connections across the Kashmir Valley added to the charm of this bygone era.”
“As I reflect on the winter of 1967, memories of a momentous journey come flooding back. I was bound for New Delhi to participate in an interstate college debate, accompanied by my esteemed physical instructor, the late M. Amin, and fellow debater, the late Mushtaq. Our odyssey began on a crisp winter morning, as we set off from Lal Chowk, Srinagar, in a bus headed for Jammu. The rugged terrain proved challenging, with road blockades and landslides slowing our progress. After a grueling three-day journey, we finally arrived in Jammu, worn but relieved.
Eager to reassure my family of my safe arrival, I made my way to the local exchange office, situated just a stone’s throw away. The queue was long, with people patiently waiting for their turn to make a trunk call. I joined the end of the line, which seemed to grow longer by the minute. The wait was interminable, stretching to two hours, but my determination remained unwavering. Finally, after several attempts by the operator, the call connected to Srinagar. With unbridled joy, I exclaimed to my mother, “I’ve arrived safely!” though the call dropped prematurely, leaving me with a mix of disappointment and relief. The brief conversation came at a modest cost of Rs 5, a small price for the peace of mind that came with knowing my family was informed of my safe arrival.”
“As telephones evolved into a vital tool for communication, improvements became essential. I’ve had the privilege of witnessing almost every phase of this transformation, from the early earpiece radios to the sleek, modern touch-screen devices that dominate today’s landscape. In fact, I remember the telephone apparatus of yesteryear, which in its bulk and complexity, was reminiscent of a tailor’s sewing machine. My childhood memories take me back to a simpler time, where creativity filled the gaps in technology. I recall using makeshift phones made from matchboxes connected by threads, eagerly communicating with friends. This nostalgic journey highlights the remarkable progress we’ve made in bridging distances and connecting lives.”
“Finally, in 1992, our landline made its way from our ancestral home to our new residence, where it continues to stand the test of time, proudly serving the family for over half a century. It has been a silent witness to the family’s growth and evolution, and we feel deeply emotionally attached to it. We’re grateful to have retained this connection, which has been a steadfast companion through the decades. Sadly, our beloved landline, bearing the number 2422 400, has been out of order for the past three months due to the authorities’ lack of response to our repeated requests for restoration. We hope that this ailing lifeline will be restored soon, reconnecting us to the memories and moments that make life special.”
The writer is former Assistant Commissioner of Revenue Department. can be reached at
nisargilani57748@gmail.com
