The Phone

Ramesh had been unwilling to go to England.

His father had sold everything he could to see Ramesh finish his graduation from a prestigious college. Even before he had passed out he had received a couple of decent offers.

But father would hear nothing of it, “If you get into a job then you would never be able to complete your post-graduation. You must go to London School of Economics. We can bear this hardship for a year or two. I wish I could have gone. I could not, but you must.”

Ramesh went and never came back. In London he found a job and a wife.

Mother was sick; had been sick for ages.

 “Is the phone working?”

“No.”

“There could be a fault in the phone line, no?”

“No.”

“Why don’t you lodge a complaint, it never rings.”

“It never rings because no one calls.”

“Don’t blame him; it is the phone.”

Father said nothing; he kept gazing at the phone.

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A post for Magpie Tales on a photo prompt.