The Evening of 1990s

“Give me the pipe now, it’s my turn,” said my brother, as we took turns in holding the pipe to water the garden. It was our daily ritual to go to the garden in the evening. We would start with watering the plants and end up playing with water and going back home completely drenched, followed by usual scoldings. Of course, water didn’t feel like a scarce thing back then. We would come back only when there was no streak of sunlight visible in the sky. Tasty snacks would be awaiting us while we prepared to march on for another event of the day. 

“Look, toot-ta taara (shooting star),” and I missed it again. Every time my brother spotted one, he would shout out. It was yet another ritual to gather on the terrace during the standard power cut of 3 hours. Those 3 hours: no TV, no fan, only minimal light in the kitchen. Those 3 hours: we would play some verbal games, talk about school, run on the terrace, have dinner, listen to elders talking or lie on the wooden/folding cot. Power cut took away my TV, who cared about the fan or light. Light meant being forced to study. Back then, you could sit on the terrace and cool breeze around would substitute for the fan. We would keep looking at the sky and be amazed by its profoundness, by the infinite number of stars. The fact that no ladder, however big, could reach up to the moon, was hard to take in. As a kid, we never knew the numbers associated with the distance between us and the moon. We were lucky that the sky was humble enough to not hide the stars beneath a blank haziness which it does now. 

 

As much as I can remember when the power finally came, it brought happiness with itself. We would run inside the house blowing off the candles and switching on the TV. There was only one TV (perhaps only one channel: Doordarshan) for all 10 members of the family so everyone glued to the verandah. We didn’t have the privilege of sneaking away to our rooms to watch whatever we want on phone internet.

As I sit and write this piece, I wonder what motivated me to do so. After some thought, I find my answer. Because deep inside my heart, I want to preserve the beautiful memory of the evening of 1990s. Because with time, more and more of it may get lost somewhere in today’s world. Because there would be a time in future when those evenings might seem to have never existed. And then, I will read what I am writing today.