Information Please.

When I was a young boy of nine, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighbourhood .I remember the  receiver of  the  shiny  black box hanging from the wall. I could not reach it but I was fascinated whenever my mom or dad  talked into it.Then I discovered that inside that device there lived a unique person, who could  answer every thing . It was known as ‘information please’.  I was very curious to talk to  the device. My mother said that it was not meant for children. ’Information please’ could  perhaps,  tell  any thing that my mom asked  the device.
     One day I got a chance  to talk to “IP’.My mom was not at home. I was feeling lonely. I  took out my tricycle  to ride. The cover was torn. I took  a hammer from Dad’s tool box  to fix the seat.In this process, the hammer whacked my finger. Oooooh   mamma ! But Mom was not there. There was no use crying, as there was no one to sympathise. I  was sucking my painful finger.”Why not ask IP ?”  I thought. I pulled a chair , climbed on it and pulled the receiver with some effort and said,Information Please. After three or four clicks, I heard a soft voice,” Information”.  On hearing the voice,  tears of pain started  flowing from my eyes. “I have whacked my finger”. From the other side the same soft voice said,” Where is your mother?” I told that mom was not at home. The soft voice now said,”Take  a cube of ice and rub it on your finger."  I found great relief. Now  it  became a routine that I called IP. She helped in my  Maths, Geography and Science. One day I called and told her that our pet parrot died.She consoled me,  as all elders do, but I was not convinced. Then softly she said," There are other worlds also to sing". 
                      One day father said that we were moving to a big city. There was a shiny  telephone on the table. I never  even looked at it. The conversations I had with 'IP' always  came in my thoughts.How patiently and  lovingly she spoke to me.  I entered my teens but the memories of those soft words never left me.
                              I was  in college hostel. In my holidays I went to stay with my sister in the same town, where I lived as a child. I  just dialled  the  "IP". From the other side, the same soft voice, which was always fresh in my mind, said, "Information".  In a faltering  voice I  said," There are other worlds to sing". From the other side came the question,'Your finger must have healed".I was ecstatic.  I told her that I always remembered her soft voice. She also told me that she had no children, and I was always  in her thoughts as her son. Tears flowing from my eyes, I asked,whether I could call her when I come next time to see my sister. She said,"Yes my child. Ask for Leena".
                                  On my next visit when I called,some other voice was on IP' I asked for Leena. The lady on the other side asked whether  I was a friend. I said," Yes, my name is Satish.". Oh said the voice," There is a message for you. I will read it out. It says there are other worlds to sing. She left this message just before she died last week."
There's  no one thing that is true. Its all true.

 This is written in respose to Hemingway on Wednesday # Write Tribe

 This is purely a fiction.