When the lights went off

Bitti Sharma, the leading lady in the movie Bareilly Ki Barfi is an electricity complaint officer in small town, Bareilly. We see her answering every complaint call with a bored, “Asuvidha Ke Liye Khed Hai. Sare Shahar Ki Gayi Hai. Thodi Der Me Aa Jayegi”. 

Do you remember getting a similar indifferent, somewhat condescending reply? That is when the complaint officer decided to pick up the phone. If you persisted, they disconnected the phone before you could complete the sentence. And yet, calling the ‘electricity office’ provided some solace for the power starved soul.

For more than a decade, I have been fortunate enough to live in an apartment with power back up. It’s been so long that those sweaty moments are a blur, appearing occasionally as flashes during minutes between darkness and revving up of the generator. It would be naïve, even stupid of me to say that I miss my tryst with candles, mosquitoes and trickling sweat. 

Then why remember those harrowing times? One of the reasons behind hankering for old times is perhaps the simplicity and innocence of it all. It provides a respite from the obsessive digital life we live. Moreover, nostalgia  is said to soften the rough edges.

Remember the collective ‘Oohhs’ when the power went off and the collective ‘Aahhs’ when the Usha fan stirred and the Bajaj tubelight blinked? And the joy of idling? Doing nothing. At a time when we check Whatsapp mindlessly, those power breaks allowed an on the spot vacation. 

The kids would rush out in the courtyard (angan, most middle class houses had one) and the grumbling adults followed grudgingly. 

Phir Chali Gayi, Bataiye? 

There was nothing to batao. 

Checking if neighbours were also in the same boat was the first on the list. There was solace in numbers. Joy in collective suffering. With cane chairs in place, the courtyard was ready, amply splashed with water in anticipation of a customary power cut. It was time to catch a story from grandma or an anecdote from grandpa. Each story that granny excavated brought joy and giggles. Longer power cuts ended up in candle light dinners and defrosting the refrigerator before going to bed. Which basically meant - ice cream. 

‘Will miss Chitrahaar again’, someone would lament. It is amusing why we missed Chitrahaar for all it had was Salma Agha crooning ‘Dil Ke Arman’, Reena Roy in a black sharara (the dress has come back) singing ‘Sheesha Ho Ya Dil Ho’ or a black dog running after Jackie Shroff in Teri Meherbaniya. 

Those hours of darkness were also a time for the Man Ki Baat contraption - the transistor. It required turning and twisting to catch the signal (like Vodafone). Dad would hunch over for test match commentary by Jasdev Singh and grandpa for news - ‘This is All India Radio. The News read by Melville de Mellow.’

Power cut was a double edged sword. When the ‘home work’ was avoidable, it was a boon but when ‘home work’ was mandatory, it was a curse. My worst torment was to solve Chemistry numericals (damn that Avogadro number) under flickering candle lights and trickling sweat. 

Once it was past dinner time and folks began preening into their HMT watches, someone was asked to walk down the power station to find out the duration of the ordeal. ‘Cable burst. It’s going to be the entire night.’ Resigned to our fate, it was time to take out folding charpoys, mosquito nets, Odomos and doze off in spurts. Sleep. Grumble. Scratch, Sleep Grumble. Scratch. Sleep…..

In the years that passed, we hardened into adulthood, surrendered to smart phones and melted in metro life. Power cuts continued, albeit less frequently. But playing antakshari instead of playing a phone game, watching stars instead of phone pictures or engaging in a game of cards instead of reading tweets is perhaps too silly to be indulged in. The consuming need to stay in touch over the phone has overcome the joy of doing nothing. Moreover, we rarely see stars in Gurgaon apartments; all we see is flickering light of planes through the dust haze. 

In a country where 240 million people live without electricity, I am indeed blessed to have 24/7 power. But with great power, comes a greater electricity bill. With three times the normal electricity charges, the backup bill gives me an electricity shock every month. And yet, it is a lesser price to pay to avoid the agony of, “Asuvidha Ke Liye Khed Hai. Sare Shahar Ki Gayi Hai. Thodi Der Me Aa Jayegi”.

Image from here