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Writer's pictureRadip Tandukar

The Used Sim Card

The debate competition had finished a day earlier and now we had a total of two days for complete excursion. We thought that our trip to Bangladesh would be incomplete without soaking our feet in the beaches of Cox’s Bazar. A veteran Bangla debater and a very fun person to be around helped us with getting connections to rent a cheap van to Cox’s bazar and before the sun rose, we were already on our way to a hefty 12 hour drive to Cox’s Bazar. We wanted to check our current location and see stay in touch with our organizer host friends who were scared to death about our adventure to the Cox’s so we thought of getting a sim card so that we could call Nepal if any emergency or at least be available to the world.

We stopped by at a rust lane where our Muslim Mama stopped by for his routine prayer in the mosque. We thought of using the time to get us a sim card. I asked for some locals and they helped us locating a small mobile repairing station few meters away from the highway. There were two young Bangla we guffing about and laughing watching videos in the internet. As we walked in front of them; they were amazed to look at aliens and immediately halted their shenanigans and look forward to help us.

We had a language barrier where we couldn’t speak Bangla and he couldn’t speak proper English but he tried all the ammunition of English he had and asked us from which country and we humbly replied Nepal. We came from the same brotherhood, and the same vein ran through both of our countries. We were the beginning and them the end of Bay of Bengal.

We asked him if he could help us with getting a sim card for us and he displayed a colorful array of sim card pouches from a tray and asked which we wanted. We explained him our situation where we needed data the most and only were to use it for a few days. He made the choice and we made the pick. He then started filling the required details and asked for our ID no. Well in fact none of us had any ID no. We got puzzled and experimented with a random number but as you guessed it didn’t work.

By this point we lost all hopes of being connected when on the road and our faces started to be gloomy. He also tried some nits and bits to crack ourselves for a sim card but the sim card user registration protocol didn’t help him either. And as we thought nothing could be done and we were about to leave. He bit the end of his lower lip, grinned some waves on his forehead and called us back. We couldn’t understand what he said but he was saying a word in repetition and was waving his hand to come back. He then took out a small cheap non-smart cellular phone from his drawer. Cracked open it up with a crunching sound, removed the battery killing the phone and slipped out its soul; its sim card.

Till this moment we were still confused what he was trying to do. Then with gentle care the put forward his palm with the small flat chip on its centre. I think connections speak more than language and I involuntarily pushed my right hand forward. He slowly tilted his hands and the sim card gently rolled twice and slammed flat on my palm. Then we all looked at him and he said, “my card. You take. Friend.” I think these are some rare moments in life when you experience pure humility and humankind. I was the part or the recipient of something noble happening and I was glad that he trusted a man who didn’t follow his religion, spoke his tongue, fed on the same rice or even looked the same. I was overwhelmed and baffled.

With true generosity, we asked how much was it worth, well I knew it was worth all the pennies in the world but yet. He waved his hands transversely as we wave our byes and he said no charge. Well, we couldn’t handle any more guilt and I remember that the sim card that we were about to take costed us 300 takas. Then took out my wallet and counted four hundred taka notes and handed it to him. After some persuasion he finally agreed to take it on the condition that we add each other on facebook. Well, like he said we’re friends. Had to take it.

Our Mama came back from the mosque and it was time to go. We clicked some pictures together, he uploaded it on facebook and tagged us. Now we were more than just friends. We had a connection between us; outspoken by any languages ever to come of any lips. You know they say in Nepal that if you share the same plate, your love grows. Maybe if we share the same sim card, our connection might grow? :D

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