Here i am typing this in the darkness of an extended power-cut at my place in Bangalore just after a not-so-happy, strenuous flight from Hyderabad. Naturally, i am cursing everyone at the Bangalore Electricity board including their late great grandfathers. I sit down alone in this sweaty room thinking about how to pass time. Ringing someone is not something i fancy at this moment but somehow suddenly i feel a sense of deja vu. And it takes me some 10 years down my memory lane.
The last time i remember of such a long power cut was around ten years ago. Those were the days when i prayed for a power cut. Seriously. Thankfully we had no inverters then and all it took for the whole neighborhood to come out and socialize was a simple power cut. Moms discussed their childrens' report cards, College going gals might have whispered about some hunk in college and we kids would be busy knocking every door and gathering friends to play what we called "ice-spice". (Knock-knock " Hey Bunty , terrace. ice-spice. Raja and Bujji also coming". "Ok but i cant find my chappal re. Anyways am coming. Chalo." )
The building terrace was heaven during power cuts. Pleasant moonlight, cool breeze and no moms to deal with. Whoa!!! Perfect setting for a fun a game of Ice-spice. We had to hide and we hid in the darkest corners. The "done-er" always counted numbers in multiples of 10 even if he had to count from 1 to 100. (1-10-20-30-..90-100- ready---ready????) We played hard and i vividly remember my getting bruised every time i played in the dark. Bruise or no bruise , the game had to continue, at least till the electrons forced their way back into our tube-lights and moms came yelling to the terrace.
I loved the the power cut so much. Some of us laughing hysterically clapping our hands, some of us clapped their hands against their mouths pleading they reached the "spot" first and some of us just imagined life without electricity. It was so much fun. One occasion when we could break-free of everything , run in joy, fall, get bruised, get up again and run like we had no tomorrow. Happy all the way.
It's still dark in my room and am sweating on the keyboard. I hope someone knocks at my door now. I wish i could get bruised again . I know nothing of it will happen and they are not "supposed" to happen because am a 22 year old now, living alone in Bangalore for a word i still don't understand - "Career".