What's the big deal about the change of a single digit? Try saying this to Palakkad native Karthikeyan Damodaran, and he would share a tale - one that started off as a joke and then became a nagging worry.  It began as a trickle of odd phone calls in 2023 and soon turned into a daily struggle for Karthikeyan, a 49-year-old videographer.

 He began receiving calls and WhatsApp messages—all in Bengali—at all hours, from people in West Bengal seeking help. At first, he dismissed them as spam. “The first call came just after a payment had been credited to my bank account. I thought it was a fraud attempt and blocked the number,” he recalls. The calls just kept coming—sometimes more than 100 a day. It was only after searching online that he discovered the reason: his number differed by a single digit from the official helpline launched by West Bengal Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee under the Sorasori Mukhya Mantri (Direct to Chief Minister) scheme. The helpline number, 9137091370, was intended for public grievances, but someone made a mistake while circulating the number, which led to Karthikeyan’s number being publicised instead.

Having attended countless distress calls in a language that he barely understood, Karthikeyan found the way out using the same language. He recently sought the help of two migrant workers from West Bengal whom he had met at a literacy programme in Palakkad. With their assistance, he recorded a video in Bengali in which the youths explained that his number was not Mamata Banerjee’s helpline and displayed the correct one. 

He now forwards the clip to callers and requests them to circulate it further. “The youths even wrote the number in Bengali digits and added ‘please share this video.’ That’s what I forward to everyone now,” says Karthikeyan. “I don’t even remember the youths’ names, but they helped me a lot,” he says. His initial idea was that the youths would circulate it on their own social media networks back home, but they declined due to personal reasons. 

Initially, he found humour in the situation. “When those on the other end of the phone spoke in Bengali, I replied in Malayalam. They didn’t understand me, and I didn’t understand them. I even joked with them as if we were friends,” he says with a laugh. But the mood shifted when he received a distressing video message from two girls claiming they were trapped, their hands bleeding. That was when he realised the gravity of the confusion. “I immediately sent them the correct helpline number,” he says. Since then, he has been sending the official contact to every caller or WhatsApp message he receives.

“The calls peaked during the 2024 general elections. I’ve noticed that whenever a crisis hits somewhere in West Bengal, the number of calls to my phone shoots up. Now, each time my phone rings, I feel as if some village there is facing a problem,” says Karthikeyan. “Sometimes I can’t sleep at night because of these calls,” he admits.

Despite all the trouble, Karthikeyan refuses to change his number. “I’ve been using this number since 2005—back when it was Tata DoCoMo, now Airtel. My Aadhaar, bank accounts, and 20 years of contacts are linked to it. Losing it would mean losing my life’s data,” he explains.

He once wrote to Mamata Banerjee via email about the problem, but hasn’t received a response. “Maybe I’ll try again,” he says. Friends from the Trinamool Congress often tease him about the situation; “Some even joke, ‘Let’s go meet Mamata Banerjee—book the flight tickets,’” he laughs.

Still, he sees humour in his predicament. “I’ve been hearing Bengali for years, but still don’t understand it. All I know is—they want Mamata Banerjee. Sometimes I feel like her PRO in Kerala,” he jokes.