• Published : 20 Apr, 2017
  • Comments : 0
  • Rating : 5

Our joys knew no bound when the van arrived with the rectangular wooden box with Weston prominently inscribed on it. The much awaited TV had finally arrived home. Many helping hands, much more than required, grabbed it and transported it to the inside of the house. The front room of the quarter was already adjusted to accommodate the prized possession; the huge Weston TV sat like a king would have on its great ivory throne. The room was swarming with enthusiastic and few envious neighbors in addition to our family members. While the noisy neighbors were rendering avid suggestions and opinions ranging from the quality of the product to its impact and influence on the children, we, the kids occasionally touched while admiring the wonder box unable to contain our excitement. 

“Where is the technician? “Someone called out.

The poor fellow responded with a sharp cry raising his hand from far behind the milling crowd, he was unable to make his way all throughout the hullabaloo. Now that he was called out he jostled his way to the TV and started his craftsmanship. Finally, the front shutters of the TV, yes it did have one, were unlocked and opened, then the knob turned on and the screen came alive. A noise of acclimation filled the room while we, the children, clapped and chuckled gleefully.  

The TV screen had more grains then the pictures, the several knobs were twisted and turned to arrive at the best screen display. The technician finally declared, “Uppar se kharab hain”. Problem in transmission. The exuberant neighbors left gradually and we were left with a new member with disappointing performance, though very dear already!

TV those days weren’t just “Plug and play”. A week before the TV arrived; elaborate arrangements were made to erect the outside antenna. Metal water pipes were joined in some workshop and carried home by at least four people. The components of the antenna were assembled on one end of the long pipe; it was then raised from the ground and firmed with steel wires the way tents are erected. The antenna then appeared as if touching the sky. Boosters were a part of the paraphernalia to improve the reception. Despite all these odds and sods the TV refused to display clear pictures so we had to content with the imaginative characters that moved around the trees and sang some song inside the TV.

To cheer us up dad said, “It is the rain in the film which is spoiling the picture quality!!!” 

After several visits of technicians and replacement of the boosters when things still didn’t improve the antenna was finally replaced by a giant sized one. Someone remarked, “You all hanged a helicopter instead of an antenna”.  

At last my brother made a great invention, twisting and turning the direction of the antenna at random improved the picture quality. Now he was the boss in making the TV deliver better results which also included occasional slaps on the sides of the box along with rigorous twisting of the several knobs. 

But there was still a bigger and serious impediment, just before the popular ‘Chitrahaar’ or the Sunday movie began the entire town use to suddenly turn black. Load shedding!

A collective “UFF” emanated from all mouths and people emerged out of their houses in frustration cursing the local grid supervisor to the Prime Minister of the country. Invisible tears rolled down our cheeks. Never before had so many children prayed collectively to god for electricity, not even during exam times or on result days. At times the prayers got answered and the moment the colony brightened up with the sudden glowing of the yellow bulbs a festivity enveloped all. “Hurray…Yaa hoo…” shouted all while sprinting towards their homes to switch on the TVs. 

With limited programmes, Doordarshan was the only available channel then, watching even “Krishi Darshan” an agriculture related show was a great delight. 

Now, after more than 3 decades, with innumerable channels and category wise round the clock crystal clear showings, the daughter of the house comes to me with the TV remote in hand complaining, “Not a programme worth watching!” 

I wonder if we lived in another age.

 

About the Author

Prashant Dutta

Joined: 12 Apr, 2017 | Location: , India

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