Please read thru my thoughts about "Doordarshan" of late 80's

Let me take you to several minutes before 6 pm on crisp winter evenings in the 1980's. Doordarshan was the anchor of my growing up years in Mumbai.Its wholesome programming shaped me as an individual, like it did millions of others. We never realised it then, but Doordarshan kept India tied to its cultural and philosophical moorings- a bond that was yanked ruthlessly with the arival of cable.Doordarshan left me with thousand nuggets of nostalgia that I cling on to.There were no interuptions in the evenings,when all of us watched Buniyaad,Vikram aur Betaal,Fauji,together over dinner-except when they showed the Liril ad under the waterfall or the Nirodh and Mala D promos,which jolted all conservative families and provoked senseless,embarrased comment from everyone."I'll just check the gas stove","Did Nilesh call?I'll just check if he is coming?""Did you lock the front door?I'll run and check".Everybody wanted to check something right at that moment.Anything in the world to avoid watching the contraceptive ad.Rajni was luckier.She was able to get her voice-and the rage of millions of citizens-across on behalf of all of us.She gave form to the deepest frustrations of middle class India.

I wonder whether Rajni would come storming now to my Uma Apt neighbourhood in Mulund(East) where BMC has so badly failed to repair the road the residents pooled money to have it repaired by a private contractor.I wonder what Karamchand would have to say about the impact of inflation on the rising prices of his favorite carrots,and whether Kitty would non-chalantly say "Yess Boss".I wonder whether Khopdi gave up drinking at the Nukkad-and finally shaved and bought a comb.I wonder if Basesar's wife Lajvanti in Hum Log watched Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi and offered some tips.I wonder if Phatichar left his home in the pipe and got a low income-group flat.I wonder if Mr Wagle has bought a flat screen LCD TV and I wonder what my growing up would have been without Chitrahaar?That is a level of dedication I cannot claim to posses,but Chitrahaar was easily one of the high points of my adolescent life.I loved music but here was something a little more tantalising for my impressionable mind. In the times of Iron curtain, Chitrahaar opened a new window for teenagers like me:a mesmerising payal here, a little navel there.

After such a long eulogy, I am embarrased to admit that I don't watch Doordarshan now.Perhaps Doordarshan changed.Perhaps I changed.But Doordarshan has remained to me what my small town is-the faraway, tiny island of memory that has so many personal stories wrapped around it,where I often take refuge when the past seems more comforting than the present.

I miss the Doordarshan of my childhood.I miss my aaji.I miss the guavas she cut and sprinkled with the spicy buknu powder.I miss the stern-faced rasgulla seller with the thick twirling moustache who came sharp at 3 pm around the corner,carrying a wooden,glass-walled box on the head and selling gulab jamun for 25 paise each.I miss the wall clock which me and my brothers broke while playing cricket at home and hid under the bed until my father found out.

I am a stranger to Doordarshan and those cobwebs of lanes now.But I intend to reclaim my memories some day.It was just an intermission.I will reach out.