Thursday, June 19, 2014

SHIFTING GEARS: LIVING ASCENDS, LIFE DESCENDS

            Few days back, was chatting with one of my machis at his house. Since schools have re – opened, his younger bro was studying with his classmate. I was surprised to see a Samsung Galaxy Tab 2 near those guys. When I went with curiosity just to have a view of it, (since I have been gifted with a smartphone only before a month, after the completion of my first year in university; before that, I was using Nokia C201) that guy muttered a tone of mockery, “Anna, what are you going to do with that without knowing the lock pattern? Here, let me unlock it.” I just blushed and gave it to him but replied sternly that I didn’t need it. (Even God can’t control my eagerness for automobiles and mobiles; babes escape my eyes but not these) I didn’t want to get my disappointment noticed.

            He said that he needed some latest songs and movies that had to be transferred from another PC. I was immobile for a moment. Bringing me back to the comfort zone, I noticed my friend was still petrified. I shook him and he, without a word, just went out of the house. I could comprehend through telepathy that he had gone through the same state of mind as me, too.

            A fifth grade boy, no, not even a boy, a child, tantalizes me with his expensive electronic gadget!!! I thought of my childhood. It had a bit of electronic devices in it, but not to this extent. The years after my birth can be classified into various branches, like the Carolus Linnaeus’ ‘Binomial Nomenlature’. Let me explain them in a simple bulleted list as detailing them in the form of a flowchart would make the readers feel dizzy.

1)    Pre – cable era, where Doordarshan was the only TV channel (Televisions didn’t occupy the core of day – to – day life, then; I wonder how housewives spent their afternoons then without serials) Radio played an important role in providing information. Especially, I used radio only for listening to cricket commentaries and weather reports during rainy days to know if there was a holiday for schools.

2)    Pre – computer era, when TVs were becoming widespread, yet these LEDs and Plasma TVs hadn’t born. Cable connections were available at a maximum of 50 rupees per month. (I had started watching cricket in TV; Sachin, Azharudhin, Kumble and Javagal Srinath began decorating the bedroom walls in the form of stickers and newspaper cuttings)

3)    Pre – smartphone era, when Nokia 1100 was the only available model with a mind – boggling price of 6000 bucks. (We were one of the first families in our locality to actually buy a mobile for residential purposes) That simple ringing tone transcended my happiness, because for the first time ever, I had heard something different from the regular, ‘tring tring’.

I still remember the day when Cable was installed in my home. That was vacation in 2003 and we were all eager to watch the ICC Cricket World Cup 2003. I could hear people conversing with raised eyebrows, “They’re going to have cable installed today.” The whole of our street was in frenzy throughout the day. There were too many children in and around the area and they all had to assemble at a particular house in the adjacent street to watch the series, ‘Jeeboomba’ in Vijay TV. (Those were the days when kids with Jeeboomba pencils were admired)  Now, that monopoly had been broken. That was like ‘history in the making’.

A group of people were climbing the posts and trees with random commands, “Throw the wire here”, “Hold on, tie it over there” Finally, there was the instruction. “Switch your TV on” Dad and bro did so with shaking hands and
Bingo….!!! Installation successful. I was beaming with pride and joy and soon became the ‘Big Brother’ of the gang of chotus and vaandus. There were children of my age group swarming the hall always to watch matches. And, India didn’t disappoint, either. Except being bundled out for 125 in the league match against the Aussies which the ‘Men In Blue’ lost eventually, everything was going on well. Especially, the match against Pakistan provided the necessary environment for such hyped expectations.

            After Saeed Anwar’s stroke – filled century had propelled Pak to 273/7, it was time for India to boomerang them. Sachin and Sehwag did that exactly. Viru was seen as the man who could replicate everything from Tendulkar. They provided a rollicking start. As usual, my home was house – full and every upper cut, flick and cover drive of Sachin was being received with heavy applause and uproar, the noise thundering all over the street. Even some of the elders were yelling like children, “Great shot, isn’t it? Wasim Akram’s going to be a dead meat today.” My home saw the crests and troughs of the people’s expressions and emotions through the ‘boon in disguise’, the Cable TV. When Sachin was caught and bowled for a mere 4 off Glenn McGrath in the Grand Finale, the entire clan abused and cursed him. (Maybe, the loss of his wife in 2008 was the aftermath of the intensity of the curse. No offence, please)

            I can still recollect the exact results of all the matches India played in the WC 2003 and finally, Sourav Ganguly’s men were the runners – up. But, more than that, the entire neighborhood had integrated as an entity for cricket, forgetting the quarrels for municipality water, abuses for improper septic tank cleaning and rows over several other reasons which aren’t worth mentioning here. Such was the effect a single, small BPL TV could create in those days. When I narrate this to some kids nowadays, they just snub me by asking, “Why didn’t you have a Bravia with stereo speakers and sub – woofers?

            Similarly, another incident also hurts my conscience till date viz. downloading songs and movies from the internet. I may not be a veteran of 40 – 50 in age, but I have also crossed the peak time of audio cassettes and original CDs. My mind has changed though, adapting itself to the trend – setters of the present. When someone buys Moserbaer audio CDs worth 100 bucks today, he is looked down upon as a ‘fool, who doesn’t know money’s worth’. Nobody owns a tape recorder and even if rarely I spot it in some retiree’s home, it would be in coma stage or even dead. Reason: There are none to repair and rectify tape recorders, radios and transistors today. We recently threw away the mini transistor into the garbage junk.

            Mom and Dad had filled up my primary schooling days with music, music and more music. Those were the days when CD players cost more than plots and houses (!!!), so the only affordable option was buying audio cassettes. Since we couldn’t muster enough dosh to buy the cassettes of each and every movie, dad used to exercise the middle – class mind in an extra – ordinary way. He would prioritize songs from many movies and list them. There were experts maintaining studios for recording in tapes these assorted tracks. That is how I got introduced into Ilayaraaja and Deva’s music; that is how ‘Colonial Cousins’ stamped their foot on Cuddalore soil; that’s when the legendary ARR was on his way to the helm of affairs in the Indian music.

            ‘Kaasu Maela Kaasu Vandhu’ (‘Kadhala Kadhala’ movie) was viral then like Kolaveri. I must have easily heard it more than 200 times, with an average of about 4 – 5 times a day. Maharajapuram Santhanam (Carnatic vocalist, shitty minds please don’t think of the comedian) and Nithyashree Mahadevan soothed my parents when they were getting ready for their work. Even today, while I hear Ghanan Ghanan from Lagaan, I imagine the people in the movie crying for rain as the weeping owners of those audio cassette shops, who are seen nowhere. But, I always thank mom and dad in heart for filling my childhood with various aspects which were costly then and are rare nowadays. There are still more than 100 valuable cassettes here with me; I hope to convert them to the usable CDs some day, maybe with my first salary (with minute confidence of me getting placed and earning something).

            There was this older version of the camera that used film rolls. In those days, documentation of traveling had to be done only through photo albums. That was a difficult process, and taking pics in that type was hell. Only dad had mastered the art, and so he was always the ‘Sherpa Tenzing’ who couldn’t pose for a photo after climbing Mount Everest. The films had to be carefully handled and processed in such a way that the negatives were effectively converted to real quality photos. Then, they had to be filtered and sorted in some chronological order to complete the album.

            This is the era of T20 cricket; people want everything to be quick, but fail to notice the permanency and longevity of such lusty pleasures. Debashish Mohanty’s fierce bowling has been forgotten; cricket fans of today do not know who he is. Sachin’s strokeplay and Dravid’s long stays to salvage India a draw in Test matches are not topics to be discussed. This is the time when cricket has changed from the ’Gentleman’s Game’ to some belligerent brawly sport.  People like Gayle, Maxwell and Pollard are looked up as the ‘Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva’ of cricket; only ruthless hits are applauded and received. Same is the case of music. Once, it was the medium which reflected our culture and traditional background. After the advent of Pitbulls and Akons, it is no surprise that only those tracks with the accompaniment of noisy guitars and percussion are regarded.

Let me not waste my time here by discussing more about this because this is the period where voting has become just another work for people. I found a status in FB recently:

                        “What’s the worth of your vote, first time voters?”
                        “Nothing. Oh, well, hang on.. We can upload a pic in our walls showing the inks in our index finger.

            Facebook, Twitter, Linked In and the other social networks have enabled a wide range of getting connected. But, we lose the real connect with the society by getting too much immersed in a world of fantasy. In the pretence of getting updated, don’t forget the past and how we were then. Let’s not push any prevalent practice to the brink of obscurity and extinction.