The Only Thing I Miss...

I used to be a normal Indian Teenager some time ago. Now I look like the picture on the left.

I used to be a normal Indian Teenager. I used to hang out with pals, I used to watch movies and tease girls, and throw stones at stray dogs and lecturers. Those things, however, I still do. In moderation. There exists one major difference, because of which I wrote the first sentence in this article. It is this: in the good old days, I used to have a cable connection. I used to watch TV.

Now I don't, so I don't.

Flashback. Two months ago. I had cable.

TV was life. TV was GOD. Come back from college, curse it (college) for an hour or so, and PLONK! in front of the TV. Laze till dinner time, eat, PLONK! again. It was fun.

Outside, there were children, and people working hard at producing more children. There were trees and vehicles, smoke and pollution and swearing, but I knew nothing of that. To me, they existed but marginally, at the peripheries of my perception. I was immersed. And that too not with the News or the BBC. With movies, movies, movies and the like.

Enter: My father.

Complaints being laid squarely at the door of my declining academic whatnot, my paternal progenitor snatched away the cable. I tantrummed till I could tantrum no more. To no avail. The pater was firm. So, chopchopchop, and away went the cable.

At first, letting go was hard. The first month went by with me sitting in front of the television, staring at the silent screen, feeling sad for myself. Till about two in the morning. The second month showed a marked improvement: I stayed awake only till half past one. Then, slowly, I started missing TV so much, I started scrounging TV time at my friend's places. And then, I learnt.

I learnt to be happy. I saw them, sitting, eyes glued to the telly, tongues hanging out, at serials which seemed to have one goal: to show that sexual misconduct occurred in all familes. They saw the drivel in Kannada, and then in Tamil and then in Telugu. And still they were unhappy. They discussed it in college, at home, in mails, everywhere. And I detested it. But then, realisation pricked me: I used to be like that once!

Scenes flashed before my eyes: me sitting, drooling, discussing, shouting at some innocent who changed the channel, calling up a pal against all curfew to find out who died and who killed said person, I remembered everything. And finally, it dawned on me: I was better off this was. This was I had time. Time to meet friends, time to talk to my family members, time to go out, time to goout and buy books and movies (and as any buff will tell you, watching a DVD is totally different from watching TV...), I had time. And the newspapers sufficed for all the news I wanted.

Fast Forward: Now.

Now, to sound like Alex DeLarge, I am reformed, my droogies, I am changed. Say "TV!" and I cringe. I have grown up.

No, I am not forty years old.

No, I am not seventy-five either. I am just a 'reformed' teenager, and my psychiatrist reads my blog. I am Algernon's trans-dimensional brother. (Hey Algy! How is you, buddy?? My planet is fine, how's Earth??)

See?

But all said and done, I do miss one thing about TV.

Heavy metal. Other than that, the TV has nothing in it. I can't get my usual share of headbanging (And I hear Headbanger's Ball is back.) And that's making me mad. I can't help it.

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The part of me that wrote this has been surgucally removed. This article will remain as proof of what a deranged mind can do.