Geetanjali Krishna: The Connection Point at Pangot

Helloooo…,” we heard a loud voice echoing in the hills when we were returning after a long hike. “Can you hear me?” While the person on the other side of the line couldn’t, people all the way down the hillside definitely could. The caller dialled again. “Hellooo,” he shouted again. A collective sigh of relief was heaved when the connection turned out to be good. The caller loudly inquired about a wedding that had taken place the night before. “I get it! He’s talking to his sister who lives near Nainital,” deduced a bystander. “Ask them if they have electricity!” a voice from nowhere piped up. Without missing a beat, the caller did as told, and relayed the answer to the disembodied voice. Another voice asked about the gifts the bride brought. The caller, with nary a thought for his ticking phone bill, relayed the requisite details. Meanwhile, a bunch of people down the road began a conversation about the caller, his sister and their entire family.

So, trudging our weary way back uphill, we overheard the entire life history of someone we hadn’t even seen. “Voices really carry in the hills,” I commented to our guide Hari Om. He grinned, and said, “Actually we are just beneath the only place in Pangot where there is cell phone connectivity … we call it Connection Point!” Apparently, Pangot, a small village beyond Nainital, is so hemmed in by mountains that signals just don’t reach it. Ironically, everyone there owns a cell phone. “Earlier, we’d stand next to the milestone opposite the tea shop and post office at about six in the evening, and connect to some mobile networks,” said he. “But everyone ended up drinking tea there and listening to everyone else’s phone conversations…,” said he. Then the villagers discovered Connection Point — a scenic location close to the hill top, which had good connectivity and a nice view of the Himalayas. The best thing was that it was reasonably far from the tea shop, post office and eavesdropping villagers.

“But Connection Point doesn’t really offer much privacy either,” I commented, adding, “I know more about that stranger and his family now than I do about many people I actually know!” The guide grinned again, “At the milestone opposite the tea shop, callers could actually ‘see’ people eavesdropping on their conversations — at Connection Point, the eavesdroppers are mostly downhill, round the bend or out of sight! Anyway, it’s a social thing, we aren’t that crazy about privacy!”

Finally, we reached the top of the hill. At Connection Point, people — tourists and locals alike — were standing around, holding their phones out like beacons to the Himalayas, waving them around to see what networks they could catch. The atmosphere was one of great bonhomie and brotherhood, and everyone was united in their desire to make connections with the outside world. And Hari Om was right: Nobody seemed to mind that their conversations were not just with the persons they’d called, but with the bystanders as well. “You’re stuck in a traffic jam at Nainital Mall?” shouted one caller, “and it will take two hours to clear?” Immediately, two men whipped out their phones and warned some people about the traffic jam. “Leave after three hours,” one advised, “to beat the jam completely!”

“I won’t be surprised if some enterprising soul sets up a tea shop here soon,” said Hari Om, “people may as well be comfortable when they call the outside world!” As we walked away, I reflected that phone calls from Connection Point connected people in Pangot not only with the outside world, but with each other as well — something I’m sure cell phone companies wouldn’t have foreseen….