WHEN THE PHONE VOICE BECOMES SOFTER THAN OUR REAL ONE
There’s a curious phenomenon that happens the moment a phone call begins. Our voice—just seconds ago full-bodied and casual—suddenly becomes gentler, lighter, almost hesitant. We speak more carefully, more slowly. It’s not just about volume; it’s about presence. It’s as if the phone demands a different version of us—someone softer, more polite, slightly removed from the person we were before it rang. This is especially visible in Nepali life, where tone is everything and indirectness is an art form. The phone becomes a kind of stage. In the middle of a noisy kitchen, or standing in a crowded street, someone will answer a call and instinctively shift into this alternate voice—a little more restrained, a little more refined. It’s not deception. It’s etiquette. A kind of vocal bow. The moment someone picks up and says, “Hello?” you can often guess who’s on the other end just by how the tone changes. A call to a government office? The voice stiffens. A friend from abroad? The English ...