Damn you, MMS scandals! Whenever I take my cellphone out of my pocket now - which is often, for how else to tell the time? - every woman in the vicinity turns to look at me askance. Mothers shield their daughters. And here I was thinking I had an open, trustworthy face.
It’s even worse with the coalition of the willing though. Like a couple of days ago I was sitting at a dhaba in McLeodganj not far from the Dalai Lama’s residence, awaiting my pork chowmein and innocently playing a game on the cell when perchance I looked up to see this (middle-aged) lady at the table opposite preening herself and generally behaving like I was Helmut Newton with full camera kit. She may even have winked at me, either that or it was my imagination.
Strange are the ways of the modern age. A few days ago I blogged about cellphones making nonsense of our memories of ancient, ponderous-dial Graham Bell instruments. Now they’ve taken all the old-world charm out of being a Peeping Tom. The binoculars, the strategically located rented flat, the careful preparation, all gone!