The title of this post does not refer to the peerless combination of the Sun Ray, smart card based authentication and the Secure Global Desktop. Last night, I was re-united with my estranged mobile phone, after 3 days of separation. I have been leading an interesting existence meanwhile, and reflecting on it throws up several insights.

I lost the phone in Bangalore airport. Under the impression that I turned it off and slid it in my backpack, I didn't discover its loss until landing in Pune and walking out. What followed was sheer nightmare. Anyone who has flown out of or into Bangalore must know what had already transpired - the flight took off half an hour late, the carrier citing the meaningless "delay due to late arrival of aircraft" excuse. We are never told why the 'plane dawdled on its way. Perhaps the crew had to air-drop a few weapons into Purulia. Maybe the pilot mistook the traffic signal on the Richmond Road flyover for an aircraft stop sign. Lounging around amongst a few hundred tense people lends itself to some rather creative speculation. I would still have made it in time for the meeting, but ... you guessed it, we circled over Pune while migratory Cranes were cleared off the runway. Or so I surmised; we were not told why we weren't landing. I didn't see any cranes on disembarking; I attributed that to the excellent guards - they must have noticed that the birds were not wearing their seat belts while landing or taking off and promptly arrested them.

Lesson 1 : If you want to fly, avoid airports.

I digress. I couldn't call anyone, because the art of memorizing numbers went extinct in the Triassic period, ever since phones coerced human beings into giving them legs. I couldn't borrow a phone even if I conjured the numbers up - my fellow passengers, intent on making up for the lost hour, ran pell-mell toward the luggage carousel, where they then waited interminably for baggage to materialize. I wasted more time pulling things out of my backpack (in no particular order, the laptop, sundry cables, numerous bills, a Technovate 2007 Shirt, iPod, my Income Tax Form 16, the phone charger, keys, The Luck of the Bodkins, a half solved Sudoku puzzle) : no secret compartments. Airline staff explored the aircraft. Nothing was found. Luckily, I remembered the number of a colleague in Bombay. Borrowing my cab driver's phone, I called him and after exchanging numbers, established contact with the guys in Pune.

Lesson 2 : The mobile phone has eliminated a significant amount of memory cells in my brain, a device that didn't exactly deliver predictable service levels in the first place.

Meeting over, I go back to the airport. Further co-operation : the aircraft had returned to Bangalore by then, and the airline staff call up their Bangalore counterparts to see if the truant phone has given up eluding discovery. No luck.

Lesson 3 : Under normal circumstances, you can be invisible for all the notice that people take of you. When you are in trouble however, they make extra-ordinary efforts to help. The human race has some time to go before its final lap(se) into savagery.

I land in Bombay that evening. Since my calendar is on the phone, I guess that a presentation I am to deliver is on the next day, and spend the night preparing the slides I need. I discover later that my session is on the day after.

Lesson 4 : The Computer should be the Network. I had started noting down appointments, rather than relying on my memory (See Lesson 2). The phone was a natural choice, but a stateful device turns out to be a single point of failure.

I spend most of the day glued to a desk in the office. I cannot get a replacement SIM card for my number until I return to Bangalore, and summon up the nerve to spam an e-mail alias with the news, and how I can be reached. The office phone starts ringing soon after.

Lesson 5 : The mobile phone is called that for a reason. Without it, you vanish off the face of the earth unless you chain yourself to an antiquated instrument. How did I ever get things done when mobiles used to be works of art?

Lesson 6 : Once upon a time, and in a galaxy that has now redshifted, my identity was associated with my physical self. Today, it is mostly etched in plastic and silicon. Apart from a suspicion that my carbon footprint now resembles the pugmark of the Abominable Snowman, I also harbour that nameless fear - lose the cards and SIM, and I will have difficulty establishing I am me. Mobilo, ergo sum.

The next day, still phone-lagged, I reach the SAP Summit venue - a hotel in a Bombay suburb. I am to present in an hour. Confident of locating colleagues and event organizers, I wander in only to be inundated by a tide of humanity. I wade over to the exhibition area where Sun has a stall, but don't find anyone familiar. Teenagers helping out at the stall look down their collective noses at me. Why don't you call them?, they ask. I don't want to admit my lack of a phone - in their eyes this must be a mortal sin. I tell them their idea is worth consideration, and trudge back to the conference area. I find people the traditional way : by using my legs and eyes.

Lesson 7 : An entire generation has grown up with six digits on one of their hands. Thumb, Index, Middle, Ring, Pinky (the variety without The Brain) and Mobile. Their first connection to a network, very likely, is through the phone. They are consuming voice, data and media services on phones to an extent that surpasses information routed through their desktops. They will probably give up their computers but never part with their phones, like Scott McNealy suggested in his conversations in India.

I land in Bangalore late last night, and walk into the Terminal Manager's office. Surprisingly there is no one blocking entry and eliciting a hundred details before letting me in. The Terminal Manager (he is no where as deadly as his designation suggests) asks for my name and voila!, produces the phone (my O2 XDA II displays the owner's name). I exit his office five minutes later, after signing one (One!) receipt. His name is Jayavardhan, and he is a refreshing change.

Lesson 8 : Some government offices work. (Open Offices work even better)

This is the third time my phone has made up with me. All break-ups have been at airports. The most notable was when I was checking in at Bombay. I placed it on the counter and bent down to tie a tag on my bag. Ten seconds later, I looked up and it was gone. A passenger on his way past, for some curious reason, reportedly assumed it was his and took it. The counter staff started calling my phone, but got no response. Ten minutes later, the man decided it wasn't his after all and gave it to a guard who then answered our calls. Protecting the phone with a password helped. The person who picked it up couldn't turn it off, make calls or access the data. When the main/reserve batteries drain, the password is cleared but I am glad not everyone knew this.

Lesson 9 : I am fated to be stuck with this instrument, battered and clunky though it is. I can set fire to it I guess, but it might rise phoenix-like from the ashes. I should simply be grateful that I have now rebooted into the network.

Hello again, World.

Standard Disclaimer : Most of this is fact. Where fact sounds strange, fiction has been employed to avoid snorts and other expressions of incredulity. No animals were harmed in the 3 days that this post covers. The cranes were bailed out by fellow jail-birds. Last heard, they were flying to Siberia. From the frying pan into the ice.

Tags : mobile india