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When families were big & radios hissed

ONE of the benefits of the lockdown during Covid-19 was reconnecting with my childhood as the responsibility of teaching the maid’s daughter, Mehak, who was then in Class II, fell on me. While reading her EVS book on the structure...
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ONE of the benefits of the lockdown during Covid-19 was reconnecting with my childhood as the responsibility of teaching the maid’s daughter, Mehak, who was then in Class II, fell on me. While reading her EVS book on the structure of a family, I was amused to read about the difference between a nuclear and joint family. I was born in 1946, when five or six children in a family were common. A joint family, as illustrated in the textbook, had parents with two children and their grandparents — smaller than a nuclear family of our time.

Because there were five or six children, maintaining discipline was important and this was normally the responsibility of the father. He was the judge, jury and prosecutor, all rolled in one. At times, one didn’t even know the cause of the punishment. It was left to the mother to assuage the bruised feelings and hands! One learned that the best way to avoid such punishments was to keep out of sight of the authority.

During the holidays, it was common for us children to be bundled off for a week or two to some relative’s house. We would either travel by train or bus. As the hosts, too, would have a number of children of their own, we kids would have a great time playing all sorts of games, such as seven tiles, hide and seek and ‘satapu’. The adventurous sorts would be climbing trees. There would be frequent fights, with the aggrieved party vowing to never speak to the other. But within an hour, reconciliation would have taken place, the fight forgotten.

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Those were the days of innocence. The only source of music was the good old valve radio. The present generation cannot imagine that the radio would take a minute or two to warm up before we could hear the hiss and the crackle of its waves. All India Radio did not broadcast film songs, and one had to tune in to Radio Ceylon to hear them. Wednesdays were reserved for ‘Binaca Geet Mala’, broadcast with the mesmerising voice of host Amin Sayani.

There was no TV and, hence, we would see very few movies and, those too, which had been vetted by the parents. We would look forward to this rare event with anticipation. From the opening credits of the film till ‘The End’ appeared on the screen, we would be transported to a different world — of kings and queens, palaces, a corrupt ‘wazir’ or scheming ‘senapati’, the swashbuckling hero, sword fights, galloping horses and damsels in distress, all in glorious black and white. The songs and dances were also a big draw. What thrill we would get seeing action on the screen. In the end, the hero would be seen rescuing the princess from the clutches of the evil senapati.

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Mehak, who is now in the Class V, looks at me as if I am from another age and planet. I am and I yearn for the simplicity of yesteryear. There was more tolerance and understanding between people then. I am waiting for the hero to rescue us from the bigotry and hatred that has permeated society today.

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