Every family has its own unsolved mystery. In the Shom household, it isn’t who finished the last rasgulla. It’s who stole the phone charger.
Mr. Shom insists the family owns at least twelve chargers. Mrs. Shom claims it’s twenty-three. Their grandson insists they’re all “slow chargers,” while the old maid, Putul, swears they multiply at night like house geckos. Yet, somehow… Nobody can ever find one. Every morning begins with the same ritual.
“My phone is at two percent!” shouts Mr. Shom. Mrs. Shom doesn’t even look up from her tea. “Use your charger.” “I can’t find my charger.” “Then whose charger is plugged into your side of the bed?” Mr. Shom examines it. “This isn’t mine.”
Their married son, Arindam, walks in confidently. “Oh, that’s mine.” “No, yours has a blue wire.” “It used to.”
Their daughter Mili, recently engaged, appears carrying three chargers that look suspiciously alike. “Does anyone know which one belongs to me?” “No.” “Then whose are these?”
Silence. Even the ceiling fan seems confused.
Meanwhile, little Rohan, the grandson, has quietly connected the only working charger to his gaming tablet. His phone? Charging through a power bank. The power bank? Charging through the laptop. The laptop? Borrowing electricity from the dining room because someone unplugged its adapter yesterday.
It’s an ecosystem.
Then comes Putul. She enters like a seasoned detective carrying a plastic shopping bag. “Dada-babu, I found these.” Out tumble six charging cables, two mysterious adapters, an earphone that belongs to no one, and something that may once have charged a Nokia in 2007. Mrs. Shom sighs. “Where were these?” “In the kitchen.” “What were they doing there?” “I thought they were drying.”
Nobody asks further questions.
By evening, the migration reaches its peak. Mr. Shom secretly borrows Arindam’s charger. Arindam borrows Mili’s. Mili borrows Rohan’s. Rohan quietly takes Mrs. Shom’s charger. Mrs. Shom eventually discovers Mr. Shom charging his phone with her bedside charger.
“You stole my charger!” “I borrowed it.” “You’ve been borrowing it since Durga Puja!” “It became emotionally attached.” Just then, the engaged daughter’s fiancé calls. “My phone is dying.” Mili smiles sweetly. “Don’t worry. We have plenty of chargers.”
The entire household bursts into laughter so loud that even the neighbour’s dog starts barking. The irony is almost poetic. The Shoms own enough charging equipment to power a small satellite. Yet every evening resembles an archaeological expedition, a police investigation, and a family courtroom rolled into one.
Experts say energy can neither be created nor destroyed. In the Shom household, chargers obey an entirely different law. They can neither be owned nor located. They simply… migrate.
Just when everyone thought the day’s Charger Crisis Summit had officially concluded, the front door opened. In walked Rohan’s mother, Nandini, sun-kissed, smiling, and carrying shopping bags after a blissful five-day holiday with her school friends. “I had the most wonderful trip!” she announced. Nobody looked up.
She came back to the living room to share her stories and felt everyone was busy searching for a charger. “I… um… have a confession.” Now she had everyone’s attention. “I think I accidentally brought home two charging cords from the dormitory we were sharing.” She held them up like evidence in a courtroom. “I’ve been feeling terrible all the way back. One of my friends must be looking for these. I should courier them tomorrow.” The room fell silent.
Mr. Shom slowly removed his spectacles. He looked at the two charging cords. Then at the overflowing basket of tangled cables. Then at the family. Finally, in the calm voice of a man who had survived forty years of domestic chaos, he declared, “My dear, don’t rush.” Everyone stared at him. “Leave them in the basket for a week.”
“Why?” asked Nandini. He smiled wisely.
“If they’re really someone else’s chargers…”He paused dramatically. “…they’ll migrate back on their own.” For three seconds there was complete silence.
Then the room exploded. Mrs. Shom laughed so hard she nearly spilled her glass of water. Arindam had to sit down. Mili was wiping tears from her eyes. Little Rohan proudly announced, “Dadu has finally understood Bluetooth!” Even Putul giggled and said, “In this house, even chargers have visiting relatives.”
Nobody ever discovered who those two charging cords actually belonged to. But strangely enough, a week later, two different chargers disappeared from the Shom household. The family accepted it without question. After all, every home has its own migration season. 