An Ode To Loadshedding

6 in the evening. The clock ticks. And off went the lights and fans! Neighbourhood slips into an unusual darkness. Load shedding...that magical word in my mind which can take me back some 30 solid years! Power cut was a usual story almost every alternate evening when with my sister, I indulged into all sorts of entertainment that life could offer. Candles and hurricane lamps would rescue us from the dungeon of darkness and the evenings got all the more appealing! I had the extended window of our house all to myself; the beloved 'box window'! Darkness was my opportunity to sit there for hours, sing aloud, talk to myself and play with my sweet little things just behind the curtains.

Those days the word 'loadshedding' would make life come to a standstill and everyone around would be helplessly happy to sit and spend time in the most innovative way. Our parents would take us to the terrace and our favourite pastime was counting the stars, identifying the most prominent ones and enjoying the lazy evening under the caring moonlight. Baba would sit with his interesting stock of stories, Maa would recite a few lines, and we would sing and dance with untamed voice and gestures.

We grew up. Very soon. And our very own 'loadshedding' suddenly slipped into darkness. The yellow light of lanterns was nowhere to be seen. The bright light of emergency lamps brought smiles and gradually the city turned into a jungle of huge apartments with strong power back-ups. Yes, all had lighted homes and happiness. But I desperately missed the oil lamp and more importantly couldn't tell anyone.

And then I really grew up. Living life was more about convenience. I was well-equipped to face the monster called 'loadshedding'. The evenings got brighter and I got weaker while confronting darkness. And then came the day when suddenly with a thud the inverter kind of gave up. I tried, I tried and I tried in every possible way to fix it. But the machine lost the willingness to cooperate. Once again my old companion 'loadshedding' found some room in my life.

I have crossed 40, closer to the other side of life and memories have become an acquired possession. Loadshedding would help me relive those days when the light of the hurricane lamps and frail white candles made every evening meaningful and bright! But on second thoughts, I miss those noises! Neighbours talking from one balcony to the other, children playing Antakshari, teenagers laughing aimlessly at the end of the street and some trying to complete the left over homework in the light of a candle with the pressure cooker whistling in an unknown kitchen! The 'noises' have become my yesterday.

Today it seems, only I am in the 'dark' and desperately looking for the matchbox to light a candle or painstakingly trying to enjoy every moment of a power-cut evening.