Chained by spectacles!

The first day I went to my workplace after the pandemic, I lost my spectacles! I recall using them at work, after which, everything was a blur. It was a perfect catch-22 situation- I needed my spectacles to find my spectacles! After searching high and low, I gave up.

Surprisingly, I could manage without the spectacles. Both distant and near vision were just fine! I later learnt that one eye was good for near vision and the other eye for distant vision, and they worked eye to eye with each other!

The explanation was an eye opener. Should I go for a “monocle” if only one eye had an issue? As seen in old English films- the protagonist had a monocle attached to a gold chain and neatly tucked to the coat pocket. It would a quite a spectacle to wear a monocle in this time and age! What happened to the monocle? How did it go out of sight and out of mind?

The spectacles are an integral part of a person’s anatomy. In Mumbai, if you wanted to get the attention of someone with spectacles, you simply shouted- “Hey chashmis! Hey double-battery!” Immediately, the person turned around! In Chennai, a person with thick glasses was branded a “soda”! These colloquial slangs may lack sensitivity, but they served the purpose- to pinpoint a particular person.

In the past, as people aged, they wore “bifocal” glasses. The glass had a semi-circular demarcation. Close vision demanded peering through that tiny arc. I spent my afternoons scrutinizing my grandfather’s expression as he read the newspaper! His bald head was held at a tilt and his glasses dangled midway down his nose! When he wasn’t around, I got a kick mimicking his posture, sitting on the same cane chair, with the same newspaper.

Ironically, I am now where my grandfather was! I need bifocals. The bifocal glass is not popular anymore. It is replaced with the “progressive lens”. Unlike the bifocals, the progressive lens has no visible divide in the glass. But the problem remains the same- for close vision, you still need to look down the nose. It is a cosmetic eyewash, and the “progress” is questionable!

I opted out from the progressive lens and bought 2 glasses- one for close vision and another for distant vision. With this, I have inherited a fresh problem. I am like a circus juggler, feverishly juggling from one glass to another depending on the task at hand! And with it, comes the greater risk of misplacing the spectacles. May be, I now need to chain both the spectacles around my neck!

For every spectacular solution, for sure, there sprouts a new problem!

Brushing up on toothbrushes!

TV advertisements on toothpaste followed a familiar visual narrative. It showed an overly cheerful child brushing his teeth. Once done, he bared his teeth, now shining like pearls, as he got ready for school. The visuals were evidently doctored. The reality was you woke up totally groggy, with the expression of a convict resigned to a life sentence. Being cheerful to go to school was out of question.

Someone dragged you to the washbasin. And with the toothbrush in mouth, you dozed off once more, this time standing and with the toothpaste trickling from the side of the mouth. Eventually, some elder brushed the teeth for you, holding you by the scruff of the neck!

The toothbrush’s appearance defined your personality. Some owners kept theirs new and sparkling. My toothbrush had a disheveled look, with the bristles scattered, much like tousled hair! My sister rebuked, "Look at your toothbrush! Why do you chew it out of shape?"

From time to time, you bought a new toothbrush. That's when the problem began. My sister pounced on me, "Why did you buy another blue toothbrush? Mine is already blue!"  It was an oversight and now, you were stuck. The two toothbrushes stood side-by-side, totally identical, like Vali and Sugreeva. Just as Rama made Sugreeva wear a garland as a mark of identification, you wrapped the handle of your toothbrush with a rubber-band.

Days later, the problem persisted. My sister caught me while brushing her teeth, "Are you by any chance using my toothbrush? The bristles are falling apart!” Confusion reigned supreme. “But I thought, the one with the rubber-band is mine!”  Evidently, the messaging was left vague and now, there were two contenders for the same toothbrush! Even with siblings, the epitome of disgust was toothbrush sharing! It was writ large on my sister’s face, her mouth ajar with the gathering foam of the toothpaste plus total revulsion!

You risked a discussion on toothbrushes with someone from pre-independent India. It followed a pattern of reminiscence- "In those days, we did not have fancy toothbrushes like you do. We had to use a neem-twig! That is why we have strong teeth!" It was difficult to respond to these observations. The intent was also perplexing. Did it question the progress made in toothbrush technology? Or perhaps the lack of gratitude for the riches enjoyed by the new generation?

“Back to the roots” is today’s mantra. There is growing chorus for anything “organic”.  In times to come, the “neem-twig” will be neatly packaged and sold as the most modern toothbrush! As you chew the neem-twig in the wee hours of the morning, the voices from the past will echo, “See! I told you so!”

 

 

 

TV newsreaders- then and now!

Over the decades, there is a sea change in all spheres- none more so than in the TV newsreaders. Newsreaders have got a complete makeover, unrecognizable, when compared to their predecessors. News has stayed much the same, whether it be the vagaries of politics, the weather or Cricket! It is the presentation that has changed.

Back in the good-old days, newsreaders were staid personalities. Nothing shook them, whether it be India winning the world cup or a devastating calamity. They read both with the same dead-pan expression. They were truly yogis who maintained that equanimity in all tumultuous situations!

Occasionally, house flies flew about the TV studio and settled on the newsreader’s nose. The fly did his best to provoke the newsreader, flitting from nostril to nostril. But not one twitch from the newsreader! Finally, it was the fly that gave up and flew away!

Newsreaders had a fan following. We admired their flair and poise, their voice and enunciation. The viewer observed subtle skills. In the absence of a tele-prompter, the newsreader could look the viewer in the eye and reel off sentence after sentence, not once glancing at his notes.  

TV news was an “also ran”- a quiet, 15-minute program that brought the day to a close.  The drone of the newsreader lulled you to a good night’s sleep! Those were simple days.

Contrast this with today’s hype and hoopla! The 15-minute news is now stretched to a channel of its own, that runs through the day and night, 24 x 7. The monotone voice will not work anymore. Today’s news anchors are complete showmen- theatrical and loud, dramatic, and opinionated! How else can you capture the viewer’s attention?

Factual news is now “interpreted”- with a melodramatic twist on each channel. There is breaking news and more breaking news! For any topic, the news anchor gathers bullies from opposing camps and pits them against each other in a verbal duel.  The result is total mayhem. It is a street brawl as the participants bay for each other’s blood- rolling up the sleeves, knotting up the lungi, slapping the thighs and spitting on the palms! The decibel levels shoot up, to outshout the other in the ensuing slugfest.

The saving grace is that the participants are all virtual. Had they been in the same studio, it would have come down to blows and fisticuffs. The viewer’s primitive instincts are stoked. Reclining on the sofa, he is like a Roman Emperor salivating over a gladiatorial fight to the finish.

Of course, you cannot blame the news anchors. They will swear that the public wants just this- a Dirty Picture, where entertainment, entertainment, entertainment rules the roost.

Meanwhile, what about news?

 

Asking for directions!

Gone are the days when you asked someone for directions. The cellphone is your navigator today. It directs you to your destination with uncanny accuracy.

Finding your way in the good, old days relied entirely on the human navigator. He was your Mariner’s compass. Perched on every parapet wall, his sole purpose of existence was to help the lost. You show the paper with the address- “Ambaji Niketan, East Chembur”.

“For Ambaji Niketan, you take the first left. You will see a circle. You take the third left. You will see a big tree. After the tree, you take the second right!” For confirmation, you repeat the directions. “Not the second right, it is the third left!” he corrected you. You repeat one more time and he corrected you once more. “Not before the tree, after it!” Finally, he got irritated, “You take the first left” and ask someone.

Your quest for Ambaji Niketan took you to the big tree. You asked the passerby. “But this is West Chembur and Ambaji Nagar, not Niketan. The address says East. Someone misled you.” On the way back, you spotted the first good Samaritan, now giving directions to another person. You carefully avoided eye-contact and stayed out of harm’s way.

Back to the main road and you showed the address slip at the shop. One look and he gave the paper back as though he had better things to do. You yelled “Ambaji Niketan” to anyone and everyone. Eventually, a passerby smiled as though he knew the answer.  You ask him one more time. He grinned even more! Finally, he blurted out, “I am also new to this place!”

Some navigators were great thinkers. “Ambaji Niketan?” and pondered over it repeating it over and over! He knitted his eyebrows, waiting for a divine revelation. You hung on. Eventually, he ended abruptly, “Sorry! I don’t know!”

If oral directions were tough to follow, hand-drawn directions were more so. You never gave a full paper to anyone. He started at the center of the paper and drew a line, “For Ambaji Niketan, you take this road. You keep going.” extending the line till it hit the top of the paper. For lack of room, he went to the next page, and continued the line. In some time, he had scribbled more lines and spirals till it resembled an enormous cobweb. “All clear?” he asked you. You felt like responding, “As clear as cow dung!”

Soon, there was distaste for the very words “Ambaji Niketan”. You cursed your uncle for sending you on this wild goose chase. You muttered, “At least uncle could have stayed at a more prominent place like the Gateway of India!”