The bank collapsed into chaos. People were stamping files as applause. The loan was approved in record time.

Silence. The manager froze. Then, a junior clerk in the corner snorted. Someone else giggled. Within seconds, the entire bank — including the security guard — was howling with laughter. The manager, trying to stay stern, failed miserably. His shoulders shook. A tear of laughter rolled down his nose.

Uncle wrapped a towel around his head, rang a bicycle bell as a temple bell, and chanted: “Om… ring-toneswara… chukkalu chudandi… phone lepadandi… ledante malli digital dawn vintaru!” (Oh lord of ringtones… look at the stars… pick up the phone… or else you’ll hear Digital Dawn again!) This ended with him pretending to faint.

As for Uncle Brahmanandam, he sat under the staircase, recording new ones. His next hit? “Ring ring… evarrakumar… phone lepu… ledante ninnu leputha!” (Ring ring… whoever you are… pick up… or else I’ll pick you up!)

Finally, Uncle transferred the audio files via a Bluetooth dongle that looked like a dead cockroach. “Done!” he declared. “Now your phone is not a phone. It is a weapon of mass laughter!”