“Baboo will you make some coffee?” “Sure!” “Ah, done!”
“Where’s my love and concern?” “Ulp. But you asked for coffee.” Grr.
While I was cleaning the house this morning, I had to dust the telephone (Yes we still have one, and it’s hardly ever used). The inadequacy of my feather duster reminded me of the telephone ladies that used to visit our house in Calcutta when we were growing up…Like everyone else we had the black model 500 telephone designed by Henry Dreyfuss. Of course I didn’t know it then.
They were nearly always middle-aged, in sarees, with folding umbrellas, and a huge black bag in which they carried their tools. We would watch curiously as they deftly did their job…And left as inconspicuously as they’d arrived.
The phone was a bit smelly for a day, though…Anyway I can only sigh…and sigh…for those lost telephone ladies and of a slow, quiet time. (And my inadequate modern duster.)