Simple complexity ask you? Think of urban life in general today. I go where I want to, I speak with whoever I want to, wherever he or she is, I spend a pittance to send a short note to someone in some corner of the world within seconds, I watch what I want to.. the usual cliched reminiscing.
But things are so simple now. Can I sit at home in my undies and find out whether I will get a back row ticket for the latest blockbuster in town showing at a cinema 15 km away? Sure! Could I have done this in 1999? Are you mad?! It wasn't so simple then. I had to walk to the bus stop, wait for a rickety old KSRTC, squeeze out at East Fort 45 minutes later, run into Sree Padmanabha, stand in the midst of a sea of people smelling of coconut oil and Lux soap combined and if I was lucky, I could buy a 32 rupee balcony ticket for the latest Aamir Khan starrer. Call it nostalgia, but somehow all that was much more fun than booking a ticket online, getting ready at my own pace, and leaving home 15 minutes before showtime and shoot off through the 6 lane highway leading from here to the multiplex, run into the theater just as the show starts. Just-In-Time efficiency. Wow.
TV. How the experience has changed! When my elder brother was a kid, he never saw TV at home until he was 6, a year after I was born! Until then it was 'each other' and of course good old 'Aakashvaani' which entertained the household. The 1983 cricket world cup experience for many those who experienced would include a city bus ride to a friend's house to watch the match on live telecast (neat!) from England. The match would get over at 11pm IST, after which they would somehow return home (imagine what public transport must've been like back then) to an eager family dying to hear how India fared. India had won that one. How it must have been. Boggles the mind.
Then came the big black and white box. Keltron's path-breaking device! Bass heavy sound, green screen when off, black and white images when on! One knob each for Power and Volume, Tone - bass or treble(latest!), brightness and contrast! It would be a while before the image distortions because of voltage fluctuation generated more interest in us young viewers than some crappy serial about the tragedies of some unfortunate family!
Things would be different if a classic Bengali movie was scheduled to come on. Or a cricket match. Or a Byomkesh Bakshi serial. If the picture was scratchy or unclear, someone would be on the roof in a trice, heaving around the TV antenna in all possible directions, sometimes innovating with the elevation to get the 'right signal'.
"Is it clear?!!"
"NOOO! Keep turning!!!"
"NOW?"
"NOO! Keep turning!! NO WAIT WAIT!! Ugggh! TURN IT BACK TO WHERE IT WAS!"
"NOW??"
"TURN IT BACK TO WHERE IT WAS!!"
"I ALREADY DID!! WE NEED A LONGER POLE FOR THIS ANTENNA!"
If you smiled at this little exchange, then we are from the same era. De taali.
Letters. No form of written communication will ever be as personal as this. Sure it took 5 days to get the message across, but the same joy I felt as a kid receiving letters from my cousin from Delhi, from my brother who went to college in Allahabad, or from the girl I had a crush on, which would send me prancing silently from the letter box to my room in no time, letters my parents would receive from their brothers, sisters and relatives, yellow postcards which seemed completely inked out in (to me) unreadable Bengali which I would immediately take to dad or mom; I will never feel from an email. I've experienced this feeling for two decades before I truly caught up with the internet world. From the handwritten word, email took over, and it looks like gtalk will take it from there. Sure, it's more convenient and quick and awesome and all that. But the simple joy of writing a letter, sealing it up, searching the house for a postage stamp, walking half a mile to post it, and waiting for a fortnight for a reply, written personally by your loved one, will probably not be experienced from that new mail in your inbox. A letter on the other hand would feel like he or she was right there, talking to you.
The telephone. Oh boy. If you can remember a time when only one house in your neighbourhood had a telephone, and that would be used by every house in the neighbourhood to receive important calls? Then again, we are from the same era. De taali! STD though, still hasn't changed for some old timers. There will be those who will still yell into the phone while on an STD/ISD call. The trunk-call experience still lives in some form! If you saw someone doing that, you'd know they were from THAT era :)
Money transfers. I can't really comment on how things have changed here, never having received a money order in my life, but I could only imagine the emotions. An old couple in a village sees the postman approaching with a money order from their son in the city. Cliched? Sure. But no comparisons of personal natures from me here, having been on many an occasion bailed out of tight situation by a swift transfer of the dough from the watchful brother at the other end of the country!
But then, hasn't every other thing I've mentioned here changed for the better in some way or the other? I guess it's what you've experienced as a child that sticks on as the innocent and feel-good way of life. My folks will probably always prefer writing letters more than trying to send emails. I will probably always prefer emailing, or whatever other form of communication my work requires me to do.
Who knows, my children may some day write about how email used to be so cool and awesome, even though less quick than sending a thought from one mind to another. Who knows what they'll invent?
Showing posts with label Experiences... Show all posts
Showing posts with label Experiences... Show all posts
Wednesday, June 09, 2010
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
MVX 9027
About a couple of years ago, there was this phase of around four to five months when I had to suffer this blasted back problem... brought about my myself, thanks to an hour and a half of head banging :P
Once I realized that this niggle wasn't going to go away by itself I decided to get help, and consulted this doc, whose clinic was some 25 kms away! Quite crazy, but then I was new in town, and lived way out of the city, etc etc...
My usual mode of transport to bajirao road (doc's clinic) consisted of one six seater from nigdi naaka to nigdi flyover, then a grinding wait for PCMT bus to the city corporation, and then an auto to the clinic doorstep.. used to take a bally hour and half on most days to get there... Well, got to learn a few routes in the heart of the city (was difficult to do that much, back then since I lived that far away from the city heh...)
On one such day, the going got tough while going to the clinic. This is to say an endless wait for a bus! So I decided to get myself to Chinchwad, which is a major square on the way to the city, and hope for better luck from there. Well, I got myself to C, and presently this really old private autorikshaw came coughing along, with a middle aged bloke in the passenger seat, holding together a large heap of vessels(!), and an elderly chap driving the coughing tin can contraption, and hollering
'Caarporation Caarporation!!'. The rick then coughed away again, with me on the other side of the vessel heap, doing a little holding together too!
A nice old man the driver was, kept chatting about this and that, almost all of which I don't remember now though.. By the time we reached Khadki(roughly halfway to 'Caarporation') the old rick began to splutter like someone choking on a glass of cola, and the cola going up the nose. The middle aged blighter stepped out and peered into the rear engine, and hollered something about something loose in the works. I figured this was going to be a while, and so stepped out to peer in as well. That's when the old man stepped out to have a look too, and that's when I noticed the crutches.
The man driving the auto ('kaka', he was called) didn't have a leg! I couldn't help feeling taken aback, I didn't realize this until then. Well, not that the old man seemed to need them much; he hopped out on his one leg, and hopped back to the rear, and promptly announced that the cable connecting the accelerator to the throttle had snapped! Holy hell, went the cerebrum. How the devil would these people get back now, or at least get to some mechanic who could fix it? And how would I get myself to yonder bajirao road in time for my appointment?! But 'kaka' seemed to realize that my mind was ticking over, and told me to have no fear! He calmly reached into the hot engine box and pulled out the entire length of the throttle cable, and carried the free end round the side and into the cockpit. And my mind was ticking over even more, and then I saw light. He handed the free end to the man with the vessels.
"Main jab bolun 'KHAINCH', to khainchne ka, aur main jab bolun kamm karne ko to kamm kar!". The man with the vessels uttered a few startled exclamations, but seemed to be reassured by the calm confidence exuded by 'kaka'.
"KHAINCH!!!"
The vessel man pulled the thin cable for all he was worth, kaka clacked the rick into gear, released the clutch and lo! the rick began to cough forwards, as good as it had been! :D
"KAMM KAR!!"
Vessel man released the cable a bit, and kaka clacked the rick into second gear, and so on to top gear! And I, back in my place was filled with a sort of wonder. Here was this chap, obviously handicapped, faced with a situation and hopped out of it, beaming all over the face! While I sat admiring these two and wondering about the sudden turn of events, we reached shivajinagar and continued moving forward. The poor blighter, the vessel man, the one with the thin sharp cable kept pulling with enthusiasm.
"KHAINCHH!!"
'Vroooommmmm..splutter...vroooommmmm!!'
"KAMM KARR!!"
splutter splutter.. vroommm.. VROOOMMMMMM!!!!
"ABBE KAMM KAR KAMM KAR!!!!"
"Oye khainchte khaichte haat ki m* **** gayi!!"
Both kaka and throttle man burst into laughter, and the laughter was infectious.. I began to guffaw away too.. By and by the corporation bridge loomed up in the distance, and it was time for me to get off. Kaka then asked me where I had to go, and gave me explicit directions and where to take another rick from etc. "Idhar se riksha nahin lene ka, idhar sab haraaami hain.. Pul par karke riksha lena!".. and then they went on their way, and I walked the way pointed out by kaka, and I suddenly began feeling really great. Well, I had thought the going was tough while waiting for a bus. But, I had a first hand experience of how the really tough get going. I suddenly forgot that I was tired, a spring appeared out of nowhere in my step, as I reached the clinic in good time.
Some small experiences do bring a whiff of fresh air into the mind; they make you feel wonderful, even if it's for a little bit. Experiences like this tend to come and bite you in the ass :) and it's wonderful when they do... A tiny lesson perhaps, to not let turns of events bog you down; there's a way out, if you'll just look.
Once I realized that this niggle wasn't going to go away by itself I decided to get help, and consulted this doc, whose clinic was some 25 kms away! Quite crazy, but then I was new in town, and lived way out of the city, etc etc...
My usual mode of transport to bajirao road (doc's clinic) consisted of one six seater from nigdi naaka to nigdi flyover, then a grinding wait for PCMT bus to the city corporation, and then an auto to the clinic doorstep.. used to take a bally hour and half on most days to get there... Well, got to learn a few routes in the heart of the city (was difficult to do that much, back then since I lived that far away from the city heh...)
On one such day, the going got tough while going to the clinic. This is to say an endless wait for a bus! So I decided to get myself to Chinchwad, which is a major square on the way to the city, and hope for better luck from there. Well, I got myself to C, and presently this really old private autorikshaw came coughing along, with a middle aged bloke in the passenger seat, holding together a large heap of vessels(!), and an elderly chap driving the coughing tin can contraption, and hollering
'Caarporation Caarporation!!'. The rick then coughed away again, with me on the other side of the vessel heap, doing a little holding together too!
A nice old man the driver was, kept chatting about this and that, almost all of which I don't remember now though.. By the time we reached Khadki(roughly halfway to 'Caarporation') the old rick began to splutter like someone choking on a glass of cola, and the cola going up the nose. The middle aged blighter stepped out and peered into the rear engine, and hollered something about something loose in the works. I figured this was going to be a while, and so stepped out to peer in as well. That's when the old man stepped out to have a look too, and that's when I noticed the crutches.
The man driving the auto ('kaka', he was called) didn't have a leg! I couldn't help feeling taken aback, I didn't realize this until then. Well, not that the old man seemed to need them much; he hopped out on his one leg, and hopped back to the rear, and promptly announced that the cable connecting the accelerator to the throttle had snapped! Holy hell, went the cerebrum. How the devil would these people get back now, or at least get to some mechanic who could fix it? And how would I get myself to yonder bajirao road in time for my appointment?! But 'kaka' seemed to realize that my mind was ticking over, and told me to have no fear! He calmly reached into the hot engine box and pulled out the entire length of the throttle cable, and carried the free end round the side and into the cockpit. And my mind was ticking over even more, and then I saw light. He handed the free end to the man with the vessels.
"Main jab bolun 'KHAINCH', to khainchne ka, aur main jab bolun kamm karne ko to kamm kar!". The man with the vessels uttered a few startled exclamations, but seemed to be reassured by the calm confidence exuded by 'kaka'.
"KHAINCH!!!"
The vessel man pulled the thin cable for all he was worth, kaka clacked the rick into gear, released the clutch and lo! the rick began to cough forwards, as good as it had been! :D
"KAMM KAR!!"
Vessel man released the cable a bit, and kaka clacked the rick into second gear, and so on to top gear! And I, back in my place was filled with a sort of wonder. Here was this chap, obviously handicapped, faced with a situation and hopped out of it, beaming all over the face! While I sat admiring these two and wondering about the sudden turn of events, we reached shivajinagar and continued moving forward. The poor blighter, the vessel man, the one with the thin sharp cable kept pulling with enthusiasm.
"KHAINCHH!!"
'Vroooommmmm..splutter...vroooommmmm!!'
"KAMM KARR!!"
splutter splutter.. vroommm.. VROOOMMMMMM!!!!
"ABBE KAMM KAR KAMM KAR!!!!"
"Oye khainchte khaichte haat ki m* **** gayi!!"
Both kaka and throttle man burst into laughter, and the laughter was infectious.. I began to guffaw away too.. By and by the corporation bridge loomed up in the distance, and it was time for me to get off. Kaka then asked me where I had to go, and gave me explicit directions and where to take another rick from etc. "Idhar se riksha nahin lene ka, idhar sab haraaami hain.. Pul par karke riksha lena!".. and then they went on their way, and I walked the way pointed out by kaka, and I suddenly began feeling really great. Well, I had thought the going was tough while waiting for a bus. But, I had a first hand experience of how the really tough get going. I suddenly forgot that I was tired, a spring appeared out of nowhere in my step, as I reached the clinic in good time.
Some small experiences do bring a whiff of fresh air into the mind; they make you feel wonderful, even if it's for a little bit. Experiences like this tend to come and bite you in the ass :) and it's wonderful when they do... A tiny lesson perhaps, to not let turns of events bog you down; there's a way out, if you'll just look.
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