<p>Sitting in the privacy of my bedroom, as I surf scores of television channels and OTT platforms to watch the programme of my choice on a high-definition LED flat screen, I recall my growing up days.</p>.<p>I remember a big Murphy radio occupying a place of pride in our drawing room till the mid-70s. That was the time when for all of the news, views and entertainment broadcast, there was one and only one All India Radio (AIR). While we, the children, were interested in film songs, my father would never miss news, especially the morning English bulletin.</p>.<p>Our interests clashed but one program that the entire family enjoyed together was a skit-based program <span class="italic"><em>Hawa Mahal </em></span>aired at night. My personal favourite was <span class="italic"><em>Soundtrack</em></span>, an hour-long program based on a film story. Much to the annoyance of my father, every Sunday, with my ears glued to the radio, I would listen to the film story at a volume so low that no one else could hear.</p>.<p>In the early 70s, pocket-size transistors entered the Indian market and became a craze. We would constantly change the position and direction of the transistor; adjust its frequencies to get clear sound. Those were the days when we would discreetly smuggle pocket-size transistors to the class to have a sneak-peek at the score during the cricket matches. I just can’t forget how a fire-brand friend of mine banged a transistor when India lost a match against Pakistan.</p>.<p>Towards the late 70s, when long antennae started dotting the landscape of Jalandhar, a black-and-white television with wooden shutters replaced our grand old Murphy radio. But viewing television in those days was a challenging task, needing a lot of patience and manoeuvring. Every now and then, somebody had to climb on the rooftop to adjust the direction of the antenna. Often, we would slap the TV to adjust the picture.</p>.<p>Eventually, when the reception was clear, we would merrily settle down to watch the program but there was hardly anything to choose from. The telecast was limited to just a few hours in the evening. As a youngster, I was crazy for <span class="italic">Chitrahar</span>, a half-an-hour weekly programme based on film songs.</p>.<p>I remember how we waited for the Sunday movie which the entire family watched together huddled in front of the television set. Nostalgia grips me when I recall the magical spell of the DD classics like <span class="italic">Hum Log (1984), Buniyaad (1986), Ramayan (1987-1988), Mahabharat (1988-1990). </span></p>.<p>Today, with round-the-clock telecasts on hundreds of television channels, it is a problem of plenty. I am spoilt for choice with a long list of movies and umpteen shows on web platforms hailed as ‘binge watch’. Streaming giants like Netflix, Amazon and Prime Video telecast thrillers that keep the viewers on tenterhooks, but the shows full of violence, sex, nudity and foul language are not my cup of tea. I am nostalgic about the sweet and simple classics of yesteryears.</p>
<p>Sitting in the privacy of my bedroom, as I surf scores of television channels and OTT platforms to watch the programme of my choice on a high-definition LED flat screen, I recall my growing up days.</p>.<p>I remember a big Murphy radio occupying a place of pride in our drawing room till the mid-70s. That was the time when for all of the news, views and entertainment broadcast, there was one and only one All India Radio (AIR). While we, the children, were interested in film songs, my father would never miss news, especially the morning English bulletin.</p>.<p>Our interests clashed but one program that the entire family enjoyed together was a skit-based program <span class="italic"><em>Hawa Mahal </em></span>aired at night. My personal favourite was <span class="italic"><em>Soundtrack</em></span>, an hour-long program based on a film story. Much to the annoyance of my father, every Sunday, with my ears glued to the radio, I would listen to the film story at a volume so low that no one else could hear.</p>.<p>In the early 70s, pocket-size transistors entered the Indian market and became a craze. We would constantly change the position and direction of the transistor; adjust its frequencies to get clear sound. Those were the days when we would discreetly smuggle pocket-size transistors to the class to have a sneak-peek at the score during the cricket matches. I just can’t forget how a fire-brand friend of mine banged a transistor when India lost a match against Pakistan.</p>.<p>Towards the late 70s, when long antennae started dotting the landscape of Jalandhar, a black-and-white television with wooden shutters replaced our grand old Murphy radio. But viewing television in those days was a challenging task, needing a lot of patience and manoeuvring. Every now and then, somebody had to climb on the rooftop to adjust the direction of the antenna. Often, we would slap the TV to adjust the picture.</p>.<p>Eventually, when the reception was clear, we would merrily settle down to watch the program but there was hardly anything to choose from. The telecast was limited to just a few hours in the evening. As a youngster, I was crazy for <span class="italic">Chitrahar</span>, a half-an-hour weekly programme based on film songs.</p>.<p>I remember how we waited for the Sunday movie which the entire family watched together huddled in front of the television set. Nostalgia grips me when I recall the magical spell of the DD classics like <span class="italic">Hum Log (1984), Buniyaad (1986), Ramayan (1987-1988), Mahabharat (1988-1990). </span></p>.<p>Today, with round-the-clock telecasts on hundreds of television channels, it is a problem of plenty. I am spoilt for choice with a long list of movies and umpteen shows on web platforms hailed as ‘binge watch’. Streaming giants like Netflix, Amazon and Prime Video telecast thrillers that keep the viewers on tenterhooks, but the shows full of violence, sex, nudity and foul language are not my cup of tea. I am nostalgic about the sweet and simple classics of yesteryears.</p>