Monsoon of Memories: A Love Note to the Newspaper
Two cups of piping hot tea in regular ceramic cups meant for daily use. A small ceramic plate with a few wheat or suji rusks or a handful of Parle G or Marie biscuits. The day’s newspaper with its various sections distributed among the family members. The local news for him, the crossword page for the family’s word geek, the Garfield comic strip for the kids, and Bollywood news for all. And just like that, another day begins in an Indian home.
Perhaps our new-age readers can’t relate to this daily ritual—after all, the newspapers now sit on the apps on our phones or in a tab on our laptops. For the rest, the scenario I described is—or was—the ideal way to usher in a new day.
The newspaper vendor boy rolled up the paper, tied it with an elastic black band, and dropped it off at our doorstep or balcony before or at sunrise. Rain, cold, or scorching heat, he was never late. On the few national holidays, something felt amiss in our day when the newspaper took a day off too.
As I look back, I’m reminded of the many incidents and events that revolved around the newspaper. No school project was complete without us scouring through the paper for the right images. And, yes, if it was a special submission, then we always eyed the glossy Sunday edition. The pictures there ensured we earned an A grade for those special holi-day projects such as presentations on the latest Olympic Games, etc.
The older newspapers, if not sold to the raddiwala (scrap dealer) for a few rupees, found many other uses too. The sheets were spread on the shelves in the cupboard to keep them clean. Of course, each time we were up to some messy DIY activity, our parents knew to advise us to spread some newspaper sheets on the floor lest we cover the floor with paint blotches or sticky glue spots.
The vegetable vendor too didn’t shy away from making bags out of the newspaper or just bundling coriander, mint, and chilies in a newspaper sheet. Neither did the bhel puri vendor who shaped that sheet into a cone and sold bhel puri in that! Back then, nobody spoke of how it wasn’t a good idea to eat food on an ink-covered piece of paper. We didn’t know that newspaper ink could be toxic. We were also yet to discover soy or water-based inks. We just went about our way making paper boats of those sheets on rainy days, just as we consumed chana kulcha on the same sheets.
Yes, you can solve as many crosswords as you wish on your fancy smartphone app but nothing comes close to staring at the real newspaper sheet with a pen in hand and arriving at the right answer! Very much like how the experience of scrolling through the daily news comes nowhere close to flipping through the sheets along with the rhythmic hum of the fan on high speed. Of course, a cup of chai also remains incomplete if not poured, shared, and indulged in over aaj ki taaza khabar (today’s daily news).
Purva Grover is an author, journalist, poet, playwright, and stage director. A postgraduate in mass communication and literature, she is the founder editor of The Indian Trumpet, a digital magazine for Indian expats in the UAE. She can be reached at grover.purva@ gmail.com. To comment on this article, please write to letters@khabar.com.
Enjoyed reading Khabar magazine? Subscribe to Khabar and get a full digital copy of this Indian-American community magazine.
