The 'then' life

Though Not as old as the rustic red walls of the Lal Quila, I am now old enough to recall the times when I had a lot of friends in my life despite the absence of cell phones, social media and emails. That was a time when we looked forward to the annual Book Fair, and when five hundred rupees was a princely sum to buy a load of books. The were no eBooks, and the paper ones that we had were prized possessions. Information had to be dug out from the piles of old newspapers at home, or from the books and journals in the maze of bookshelves in public libraries. Knowledge and information were not a click away; and photocopies of notes and books were gratefully accepted and used. Libraries were cool places to be back then. We knew how to write using a pen and paper and took pride in our neat handwriting and fountain pens. We used to write letters to our cousins and friends. And pen friends added spice to our simple everyday life. Playboy and Debonair magazines were kept hidden by brothers and uncles under mattresses or in piles of ‘normal’ books. Then, the internet landed in cyber cafes, and information on sex could be accessed without the exercise of buying magazines and shady books and the task of hiding it from the female relatives could be avoided. And here we are today, every human being has a phone. So now every move we make, every breath we take is under scrutiny and every place we visit is exotic in our edited photos, including the shop of the neighbourhood butcher who cares nothing about maintaining hygiene. In the absence of ‘influencers’, the studious boy-next-door or the polite-cousin were our idols (or rather, our parents wanted us to be like them). No matter how ‘down’ we felt or how much ‘solitude’ or ‘space’ we craved for, it was mandatory to greet the guests who dropped uninvited (naturally) at our homes in the evenings or Sunday mornings. And deviation to this would end up with some robust verbal summon and/or a nice slap or two. Lunches were spontaneous, joyous affairs with the much-awaited chicken curry reserved for Sundays. There was no unlimited access to chips, pizza, carbonated drinks, or fat-laden burgers. The television, which had just one channel till we were well into out teens (when DD Metro brought glamour to our living rooms), was out of bounds for the kids for the entire week; this necessitated that we actually got ourselves busy with outdoor/indoor games or engage in hobbies like painting, singing, etc. News was more neutral then, and the audience was open to discussion and debate (not one sided!). Sunsets were enjoyed through the open windows, or over a cup of tea (milk for the kids!) on the verandah, and not on Instagram pages. And yes, good communication skills were mandatory, and so was responding to everyone with courtesy and a smile. The neighbourhood shopkeeper was familiar as we had to take umpteen trips to buy household and school items. Now, we inhabit our own echo chambers constantly reinforcing our own biases, don’t we? Visits to friends and relatives were unannounced, and cooking for guests was not a taxing and unwanted errand. There were no takeaways or ‘home-delivery’ facilities, and kids looked forward to play with the children who visited – remaining incommunicado poring over mobile phones was unimaginable. White luci (not atta-puri) and crunchy potato fry (not frozen French Fries) was ambrosia and milk tea with sugar was the common beverage. There were problems in relationships and friendships, back then too. But issues would be solved with discussion, cajoling, reprimanding, and understanding. Now we judge our friend’s/partner’s mood from little messages, some which may just be emojis. Privacy did exist, but its need was far from pathological – the elders opined and suggested, and the younger ones did lend patient hearing. Individual needs and desires were a part of the system, and not the entire story. And there was some joy, some inquisitiveness (not unhealthy interest) in fishing our phone numbers from dog-eared directories and relying on our inbuilt grey calls to find out landline numbers and birthdays of people. There were no digital prompts and ‘contact list’ on phones. Yes, birthdays were celebrated with friends and families over simple, home cooked food, with actual physical energy pouring out of every pore in our bodies; even the cakes, though not always perfect, were baked with love by our family members. Like the rapidly vanishing ‘scooters and Assam-type homes, some aspects of our lives are gone forever. And with us will vanish these wonderful memories and reminisces of the life we led and lived. And no, we cannot bring back those days, and to be frank, we may even choose not to go back to those cumbersome (somewhat) era. But then, if we do not keep digital footprints of our times, then who will?