COLORES INFINITUM
:)
While randomly chatting with a
colleague, this nostalgic subject matter of the good old days cropped up. The
conversation began with the household discipline on milk-drinking habits when
we were children, something that I was much undisciplined at, always intent to
decline and sabotage the mission of my family members to get that glass of milk
down my alimentary canal, and we went on discussing similar things in the short
free time available during the hectic days of election planning and
programming.
During this conversation, the
subject matter cropped up that I intended to tell in the initial line here. Again,
it was linked to the household discipline in our early childhood days and
teens.
Many TV screens were flickering
with content before our eyes and our discussion graduated to one of the most
disciplined aspects of our lives those days – access to TV, and especially the
category of content. And the person carrying the power to wield an atmosphere
of discipline in the family happened to be the father or (and) any other family
elder having stature similar to the father.
And our reactions were mix of
respect and fear whenever we faced the situations of an approaching threat of
being scolded (with some mild slaps occasionally) when caught some
entertainment (read song) based programme on TV.
Respect, because a father is still
the ultimate hero and the role model in the traditional Indian families.
Fear, because we wanted to catch
the song, cartoon and movie programmes desperately and relished watching the TV
to watch as much as possible whenever father was out.
Fear, because, watching
entertainment content like songs was heavily rationed in those days and was
certainly a no go zone from the father as such programmes were scheduled for
the time band of the day supposed to be our study hours in my family. A heavily
rationed TV content, regulated by the whims of the Door Darshan officials only
compounded our misery.
Fear, because, father’s entry
constrained us from watching the favourite TV programmes like Chitrahaar, a
programme based on songs that was telecast at 8 PM on Wednesdays and Fridays if
I still recollect it properly.
I still remember how we would
scramble to leave the room or shut the TV while watching Chitrahaar and heard
the father opening the main-gate of the house. The time between the main-gate
of the house to the TV room was enough for us to exercise our options.
The time of the father’s return
to the house, from his office, or from some other work, was not fixed on most
of the days. And those were the days when having a landline phone happened to
be a luxury. So, most of the time, we were on tenterhooks while watching Chitrahaar.
Our attention was split between watching the programme and attending to the
signs that could have told us of the father’s arrival. Yes, we were quite
disciplined in doing so.
But, even then, we would get
caught, regularly.
But the next day, it was the
routine, as usual, we all, my sisters and I, the single brother, back and disciplined
on the mission.
Oh the good old days. Missing so
much the subtle charm of living that time.
Life, Chitrahaar, Chitrahar,
Looking Back, Father in an Indian Family, Watching TV in DD Days
:)