Reading the newspaper

Growing up, the only newspaper section you were interested in, was the sports page! The moment the boy delivered the newspaper, you made a dash for it! Separating out the sports page, you salivated over the score card “Gavaskar- caught Rixon, bowled Thomson”!

When you went to your grandparent’s place for vacation, the rules were different. Grandpa had exclusive right to the newspaper- that too, in full. You couldn’t separate a particular limb. You were itching to ask, “Anyway, you are not going to read the sports page! Can’t I read it, instead of waiting on the side-lines?”

Grandpa was particular that the “editorial” should be read. At that age, the editorial made no sense. The topics were as dry as toast. The language was a verbal minefield, strewn with grandiose words to obfuscate comprehension. “Why are they using big words like “grandiose” and “obfuscate” grandpa?” Pat came the answer, “So that you can improve your English!”  

Grandpa was insistent, “Each word that you do not know, you should underline and look it up in the dictionary!” You wanted to file a mercy petition forthwith. “I have just finished my exams and come to Chennai. Can I be spared from more academic exercises at least now?”

“Improving English” had no clear-cut end-goal. You were stuck with a permanent “L board”. You stoutly protested, “How much more to improve? I am speaking English only, no?”

Reading newspapers in Chennai had other practical problems. The weather was hot and humid. The fan ran at top speed. Newspapers were mischievous fellows. Though you pinned them down with your knees, they were a free spirit and flapped about irritatingly. Some sections got separated from the body and loitered around the room. By the time you retrieved one section, the others had flown off!

Curiously, there were folks, who read the newspaper in stealth mode. Waking up in the wee hours of the morning, they tip-toed to the neighbor’s front-door and picked up the newspaper. CCTVs were non-existent and these trespasses went unrecorded. They read the newspaper for an entire hour, folded it carefully, and returned it to its rightful place.

And then, there were days when there was no newspaper. You opened the door and checked multiple times. The day could not be started. It was as though you hadn’t brushed your teeth. Apparently, the previous day was a national holiday. You felt terribly cheated. How can the newspaper take a holiday? Isn’t it an emergency service, more critical than the ambulance?

On days such as these, reading “yesterday’s newspaper” was out of question though several pages were unread. Yesterday’s newspaper was like dosa served from the fridge-cold and tasteless! Newspaper had to be today’s- nice and crispy, like a hot dosa straight out of the pan!