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| The Day My Phone Exposed Me |
I thought my phone was my buddy. It woke me up every day, kept me busy when I had nothing to do, and held onto my secrets better than anyone ever could. Well, that’s what I used to think until one Sunday that I’ll never forget when it chose the worst and most embarrassing way to turn against me.
That Sunday started like another slow weekend. I lay on my bed, holding my phone above my face at great risk, going through social media with the quickness and care of some sports star. In the space outside my room, life went on. Within my room, only jokes were of any value.
My mother yelled out one of her regular inspirational quotes from the kitchen. “Your eyes will be square if you keep looking at that phone!” she shouted. I ignored her with the kind of expertise only years of practice can bring, pretending to be engrossed in something educational.
A message in their family group, coming from her aunt. It was the daily “Good Morning” at 6:12 a.m. accompanied by flowers and sparkles, reading it was now 1:30 p.m. wondering if replying late would still be considered polite.
Before I could make up my mind, my mother suddenly emerged behind me, not having heard her come in. She had long converted surprise into an art form. "What are you doing?" she pleasantly queried. "Studying," came my immediate retort without removing my eyes from the screen. She leaned in closer. "Studying memes?" Before I could defend myself, she seized the phone.
That, which every child fears—the moment when privacy officially ends.
The phone unlocked instantly and opened straight to my photo gallery. The first image was a selfie of me wearing my cousin’s shades making some ridiculous face. My mother looked at the screen, at me, back at the screen.
“What is this?”
“Modern art,” I replied with all confidence.
She swiped again. Now it was a screenshot of a chat where I joked that her cooking was too salty. The quiet that followed could kill. Even the fan suddenly remembered something it should be doing. She kept on scrolling, and then my Google search history hit her eyes. How to pretend you’re studying when you’re actually on your phone.
I tried to explain context, jokes, misunderstandings but fate was not smiling at me at that particular moment an incoming call popped up on the screen. The contact name read, "Pizza Bhaiya."
She replied to it.
“Yes, he is at home,” she said with her voice lined in respect. “No, he is not studying. Yes, send extra spicy.”
It finally dawned upon me as the fiery taste of pizza burned my tastebuds that phones do not forget anything. They remember. They do not forgive.
Later, a message came through from my mother on WhatsApp. "I have joined WhatsApp," it read.
"Don't worry, I won't check your phone."
I giggled- awkward.
From that day henceforth, I still love my phone very much. But the trust level went down a bit between me and the phone. Because friends don't sell out friends. And phones? Phones sell out everything.
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