Last week, we went to the science centre for the first time in Toronto. It’s a giant museum. So large that you need a shuttle to take you from the ticketing centre all the way to the main building. As the weather here starts imitating my bank balance at the end of month, by trending to zero, the centre had some immediate charms by virtue of being climate controlled.
Amal and our friends’ kid on the other hand were reacting the way Amit Shah would to a wig store. We bounced around from section to section. The first had a giant trampoline and the next had remote controlled dinosaurs. There was another section with a bubble machine and a fishing area where you could use magnetic fishing rods to catch plastic fish.
That whole afternoon triggered a strong bout of nostalgia. One for a time when I could head to the canteen for a coffee without having to negotiate with toddlers for 2 hours (I failed).
And also to my own experience at the Visvevaraya science museum in Bangalore. If you haven’t been it’s close to Cubbon Park. I remember going in my school uniform and being shepherded around the different sections.
The only exhibit that I still remember was a perpetual motion set up. There was a maze and inside there was a ball that kept bouncing and moving within the maze because they were off setting it’s energy loss. Might as well have called it ‘Corporate life’.
But at the science museum as the years pass there are something’s that showcase technology and not some principle that begin to feel a little bit dated.
And if it happens outside a museum then you’re at the mercy of some adults knowledge of science.
“Uncle you know Marconi”
“ya in amrika they eat it with cheese itsims”
“….”
I caught myself doing that while pointing out a phone booth to Amal. Even in India this is truly a relic of the past. At one point in the early 2000s in Bangalore, yellow phones which operated on one rupee were the handmaiden to every third xerox/cigarette store/Iyengar bakery.
I had a classmate from Tumkur who was staying in a PG who would abuse the one down the street. He would leave a missed call, collect the rupee he had dropped and then have a 45 minute conversation with someone as the shopkeeper would get steamed before finally blowing up.
“Bari incoming?! Get out you loafer!”
Also of course, the very phrase “STD ISD”. For people of a certain age group it can communicate costs, distance or landmarks in your neighbourhood.
Like for this friend of my brother who is now some finance big shot. His nicknam of STD goes back to his college days. While getting ragged in his first week at his engineering college over two decades ago, he was asked what you could find in the area near the campus.
“Sir STD?”
“Wow. Impressive” they said, surprised that a first year had informed takes about the red light district.
“Ya thats where I go to call my mother”
“……”
I have never made an ISD call to my mother thanks to moving abroad after the roll out of Whatsapp. The only time I triggered an ISD call to her was when my Hindi tuition teacher decided to call her up and yell at her because I had bunked a few classes….while she was in London.
“MADAM YEH TOH 100% FAIL HO JAYEGA”
“Ok Ma’am, lekin main-”
“TEEN DIN SE NAHIN AA RAHA HAI”
“Haan Ma’am, main roaming pe hoon”
“ABHI TAK KYUNKI KA SPELLING PATA NAHI HAI”
“MA’AM SAMAJH GAYA MAIN ABHI LONDON MAIN ROAMING PE HOON”
“LONDON????”
“Haan baad main baat karte-”
“Wahan weather kaisa hai?”
“….”
I got belted on her return to India. I had indeed been bunking in her absence. And I had chosen to fill my Hindi notebook in that timeframe with a comic strip about a Labrador that chain smokes.
In my lived experience to this day, the only person who would have been interested in reading it is Amal. I have spent 20 minutes swigging coffee while keeping her entertained with an in flight magazine. She’s yet to be given a book that she has rejected.
From a book on the sights of Halifax to illustrated bible stories to one about a cat wearing white sneakers. She’s blitzed through them all. She also accidentally blessed the manuscript of my 2nd book with a rainbow coloured Rorschach. Which inspires me to use a dad joke to market it to you.
“If you haven’t already bought one, please get yourself a copy of Amal’s Appa’s book:
You can make it more viral than an STD for a price that’s less than an ISD call (To USA, UK, Canada or Germany)”
It has been surreal to think that I have had the luck and the privilege to spend time on writing not one, but two books before they become fully obsolete. If AI can be trained to write about it’s Hindi tuition teacher, my writing like many other books will find a house in the science centre.
“Look Amal, it’s appa’s book. Near the radio section- by Marconi”
“Can I have the marconi with cheese appa?”
“….”