IDHAR UDHAR KI BAAT 117- THE VANGUARD OF CHANGE Brig P S Gothra(Retd)

“Dadaji, do you just not get technology?” my grandson Goldie asked, rolling his eyes as I handed him the Wi-Fi router to reset.

I chuckled. I remembered wearing that exact same expression decades ago, when my own father asked me to light the Petromax lamp after failing for the fourth time.

“Goldie,” I said, “the technological transitions I’ve witnessed would make your head spin.”

“Really? Tell me,” he said, sitting back, the router momentarily forgotten.

“In my childhood, walking was the primary mode of transport. For longer distances, we relied on bullock carts or horse carts. I still remember the day our village got its first bus service—it felt like royalty had arrived. Trains were marvels too, though the steam engines left us covered in soot and coal dust. We carried our own bedding for journeys that lasted days. Today, a twenty-four-hour journey takes eight hours on the Vande Bharat, and you arrive fresh enough to walk straight into an interview.”

I smiled at another memory. “In school, I got my first bicycle—a 24-inch frame, far too big for me. I had to push it, jump onto the pedal, and scoot. Then came kenchi cycling—legs crossed through the frame because I couldn’t reach the seat. The day I finally sat on the saddle felt like victory. Fitting a dynamo to that bicycle was the ultimate thrill—suddenly, I could create light.”

“Do you have a video of that?” Goldie asked, eyes wide.

“No, beta. Back then, photographs were taken only for exams or weddings. A camera roll had 36 shots, and every click cost money. Film had to be developed. Digital changed that—instant previews, unlimited photos. Today, your phone clicks thousands of pictures, though you’ve traded the cost of film for the headache of managing data.”

He shook his head. “That sounds ancient.”

“It was a slower world. Our window to it was the radio—large wooden boxes with glowing valves and crackling AM signals. Then came pocket transistors, followed by televisions with rooftop antennas that required precision and patience to adjust. Today, screens thinner than my notebook give you the entire world on demand.”

Goldie grinned. “So did you ever binge-watch anything?”

“Binge-watching meant waiting a week for the next episode,” I laughed. “We slept early—partly because we were still emerging from the lantern era. Filament bulbs felt like miniature suns. Tubelights flickered for half a minute before committing to glow. Power cuts were routine. Candles gave way to emergency lights, and then inverters.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds difficult.”

“The women had it toughest,” I said. “Cooking over cow-dung cakes and firewood filled kitchens with smoke. Kerosene stoves came next—messy and loud. LPG cylinders were a revolution. Today, piped gas and induction stoves do the job quietly. Laundry once meant beating clothes with a thapi. When washing machines arrived, some people in Punjab even used them to churn lassi.”

“And computers?” he asked.

“The first one I saw occupied an entire room and roared like a factory. Then came PCs, laptops, and now that phone in your pocket—with more computing power than the rockets that first took humans to the moon. We had pagers once—just a beep that sent us hunting for a landline. Now your watch reminds you to breathe.”

I paused, then added, “And if we didn’t know a word, we picked up a dictionary. We flipped pages, guessed spellings, and learned meanings slowly. Today, with one click, you get meanings, translations in multiple languages, synonyms, antonyms—everything, instantly.”

I looked at the router in his hands. “From tomorrow, I won’t trouble you with these small technology tasks.”

“Why?” Goldie asked.

“My phone camera has developed a fault. I’m getting a new one tomorrow. I’ve learned to click the problem and upload it to AI. Asking the right question—that has always been our strength. Tools change, but thinking endures. Give the right prompt, and hum phatte chak denge—we’ll still win.”

I rested my hand on his shoulder. “We are not spectators to change. We are its vanguard.”

Goldie smiled—and reset the router.

 

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