Back in the day, childhood was all about that tall pine tree and the excitement of cassette video games and early internet days. Nostalgia hits seeing my nephew effortlessly find my favourite cartoon on YouTube, a reminder of how much tech has changed. Yet, the essence of asking for ‘just five more minutes’ now remains entangled in the world of Instagram reels and changing priorities ~
Memories take me back to a time when the internet couldn’t race ahead of my thoughts. Coaxing me indoors all day was a challenge for my parents during my childhood. Lunch breaks often interrupted my turns at batting, yet I managed to finish a meal in record time. Republic Day and Independence Day were marked by spirited cricket games with neighbourhood uncles. Amid occasional TV serial watching, Shakalaka Boom Boom’s Sanju’s Magic Pencil left a lasting impression.
A tall pine tree, which all parents had deemed off-limits, stood outside the main gate and served as our unofficial barrier. Playing near it, the clock would strike 6 pm. “Just 5 more minutes, Maa,” I would plead. Those 5 minutes magically transformed into 15, and before I knew it, Maa was sprinting towards me. “Oh no, but I’m not ready to head home yet,” I muttered to myself. In a flash, I was whisked home by her. My buddies, channelling their inner Shaktiman, attempted a rescue mission, but within minutes, I overheard them wailing, desperately negotiating with their parents for a little more playtime.
Now all we could do was cross our fingers and pray for a miraculous power outage, uniting us in the sweet escape of darkness.
The majestic pine tree that once stood tall outside our gate is now a road where cars constantly pass by. It’s sad to see nature replaced by cement, and there are no longer any kids playing or roots to trip over. It’s just the reality of a concrete-covered childhood memory.
Let’s talk about some interesting things. I may not be a time traveller, but I had a colourful childhood. Although mobile phones were available in India, we, as kids, were not part of the phone community. Video games were not as common as they are today. However, during the 90s, cassette video game consoles became available in India, which turned our TV time into a pixelated paradise.
I vividly recall the excitement of playing video games at my friend’s house – truly addictive fun! My dad eventually acquired a mobile phone, and my enthusiasm reached new heights. Why, you ask? Because it was equipped with the legendary snake game. Forget Ludo; now we had a snake slithering across our screens, and that was the epitome of cool. Childhood gaming vibes at their finest!
Let me tell you about the time when the Internet began to gain popularity in India. Forget the lengthy lines at the bank; the hotspots were now the cyber cafes. For just 10 rupees, we could access the online world for half an hour, or double that time for 20 rupees. It was in one of these buzzing cybercafes that my friend and I decided to create our first Facebook accounts. I chose Demi Lovato’s photo for my profile, while my friend went for Selena Gomez’s.
Although the internet was alluring, it hadn’t taken over our minds yet. We enjoyed it, but we were still in control of our usage.
Have you ever considered the contrast between the past and present regarding essay writing? In the past, we had to craft our essays ourselves, and our teachers would assign points. This helped us to develop our presence of mind. Ironically, today we assign such tasks to AI, which can generate essays in mere seconds. This highlights the incredible speed at which the internet has surpassed our cognitive processes.
Looking back at the early days of mobile phones, I recall receiving a limited 100 MB of data per day and loading a single website took approximately 10 minutes. Yet, we exercised considerable patience. As the webpage loaded, we had already jotted down our answers on paper. Now, in contrast, the internet is much faster than our ability to think.
Thinking about school, what I loved was when the teacher threw a word at us and said, “Find the meaning in the dictionary.” No time wasted – we’d race to see who could find it first. That’s how fast we were compared to the internet. Good times!
Our wishes came true even faster than the internet! The power went out just as we had playfully wished. Excitement surged as I quickly opened the doors. There we were – me and my friends, finally free from being stuck indoors. Happy faces illuminated the darkness as the whole compound came to life. Parents, grandparents, siblings, and others all emerged under the enchanting glow of the moonlight. Here, we waited for hours, united by the anticipation of the power’s return.
Last week, my 6-year-old nephew’s encounter took me on a nostalgic journey. Amused and a little concerned, I witnessed him refusing to eat without a phone, a gadget he mastered more than I did. Trying to share my childhood, I said, “Back in my day, I watched ‘Make Way for Noddy,’ my favourite cartoon.”
Surprisingly, he quickly went to YouTube, asking, “What’s Noddy?” The animated world of my childhood unfolded before his eyes as he effortlessly watched my beloved cartoon with modern technology.
As my fingers dance on the keyboard, I find myself transported to an era when competing with friends to determine the fastest writer was a cherished pastime. Nowadays, everyone asks about typing speed. What happened to ask about writing speed? I honed that skill for years. Is it because the internet speed has outpaced my writing speed?
Under the moonlight, we played all sorts of games – hide and seek, running-catching, kabaddi, the crocodile game, hopscotch, wait, what was that other game?
Well, just Google it, and you’ll find the entire list there. The internet’s quicker than my memory these days.
It’s been over ten years; 6 pm isn’t my deadline anymore. Yet here I am, wondering why Maa insists on pulling me away from the cosy embrace of my bed. Dinner served at nine took me an hour to finish. Back on my bed with my phone in hand, as I mindlessly scroll through my Instagram feed, I find myself caught in a subtle metamorphosis: What started as a simple plea for ‘five more minutes, Maa’ has seamlessly evolved into the captivating allure of ‘just one more reel,’ a reflection to the ever-shifting sands of time and priorities.