Believe me, I’m not someone you’ll spot standing behind picket lines. I just hate creating a ruckus or crying myself hoarse over anything. Basically, I’m not the sort of chap who has major issues. Still, there are certain things that make me see red. And one of them is a mobile phone. Let me explain.

A friend suddenly called up from Bhubaneswar the other day. Even while we were exchanging pleasantries, I could make out that he was itching to tell me something.

It came soon enough.

“Oh, by the way, I’ve got myself a cell. It’s the latest model ? MMS, megapixel camera. It’s just so exciting, man!”

I could make that out ?his voice was quivering with emotion. The last time I remember hearing someone in this state, that guy was planning to elope.

And then came the inevitable question: “So, aren’t you getting yourself a set?” I absolutely swear that was the 864th time I’ve heard that in the past week.

Well, the answer is no. I’m NOT buying myself a mobile phone. I hate the gizmo and everything that has to do with it. As I keep telling everyone around me, I have access to a phone at home and in office. The only time I can’t be contacted is when I’m travelling, and I’d rather it stayed that way.

And anyway, why should I let whatever little privacy I have left in my insignificant life be spoiled by a phone that tags along wherever I go? Just imagine sitting bleary-eyed in the loo at 7 am, trying to read the headlines in the morning paper, when your precious cell suddenly rings.

It’s your boss, who barks, “Did you complete the assignment last night?” Boy, you surely needed to hear that to cheer you up for the day ahead!

But, of course, these are not the things I told my friend. Like most other people around me, he wouldn’t understand. At home, and among friends, I’m increasingly seen as an oddity for refusing to buy myself a handset. Some people think this personal-war-against-the-onslaught-of-mobile-phones thing is terribly funny.

Others are downright offended. “Why do you have to be so stingy? It doesn’t even cost all that much these days,” is something I keep hearing regularly. And a small number of acquaintances have stopped talking to me completely, taking my reluctance to get myself a phone as some kind of a personal insult. I’ve done this deliberately to not stay in touch, they feel.

But as I would keep telling them earlier ? I’ve completely given up now ? it’s actually none of that. My reasons for wanting to remain a mobile outcast are much simpler. I don’t use it because for me, it is the most complicated gizmo in the world. It must be easier running a submarine than keeping oneself informed about the latest developments in the world of cellphones.

New models keep popping out of the company cupboard every other week. SMS, MMS, camera with zoom, video recording, audio streaming, dictionary, games ? the list goes on.

And that’s not to talk about the various schemes on offer. First, incoming calls were free, then they had to be paid for and then? guess what? Free again!

With certain offers you get unlimited free SMS to certain numbers, others allow you to call up numbers at special rates, still others let you talk free of cost ? but only between midnight and five in the morning. Now whoever said that mobile phones were about making life simpler?

Just walk into any cinema hall, and you’ll know what it has done to our lives. I got a taste of it while watching Bunty Aur Babli the other day. Believe me, every third wisecrack Abhishek made was interrupted by some phone ringing in some pocket in some dark corner of the hall. And this was, remember, after repeated reminders at the beginning of the show about keeping mobile phones switched off.

How thick-skinned can we really get? Or are we trying to show that even on a Sunday afternoon we can’t be spared the agony of ‘staying connected’ for three whole hours? Can anyone really be that busy? Who are we trying to kid?

But the ultimate ‘mobile’ experience for me was when I called up a friend’s cell some time back. My call connected, beeped, and then, strangely, there was no sound of ringing. An old Mohammed Rafi number started playing in my ear.

Flummoxed, I was just about to disconnect when the friend picked up the phone. There was a short laugh when I asked him about it. “Oh, that’s the latest? it lets me play my favourite song to the caller. Isn’t it nice?”

YOUR favourite song? But why on earth should I want to hear your favourite song? And why should I want a phone to sound like a walkman in the first place? Do I ever want my wife to sound like my mother-in-law?

Seriously, the only time I’ll miss a mobile phone is when the light goes kaput in the night and I need something to guide me to the nearest candle.