Swipes, clicks and light touches ... the widening generation gap

We were in awe of them as youngsters. We had many other aunts and they visited us fairly frequently, but these two were special. They brought to our quiet district towns a whiff of the cosmopolitan city and the ‘high life’ of Bombay (now Mumbai).

They saw the latest movies — since those were not the days of simultaneous worldwide releases — and when they visited us, they were full of those stories. They had a penchant for thrillers and at night, the three sisters would sit together in the dark and recount the stories of those movies, unaware that we were wide awake and listening too. We did not need 3D glasses or stereophonic sound when we had our aunts. We cowered and shivered through Psycho, Midnight Lace and House of Wax — and key sentences and scenes from there were never forgotten. We used them repeatedly on each other when we wanted to intimidate or get rid of a pesky siblings and so, years later, when we got to see the movies ourselves, we recognised the phrases and situations, so indelibly had they been imprinted in our minds.

Both aunts had great fashion sense and took the trouble to get the latest materials and prints so that, with the help of the descriptions of what they had seen at the parties and concerts they attended, our mother could create designer clothes for herself and for us. Of course, in the end, it was the sari that we liked best on them and we enthusiastically helped them wrap themselves in silks and cottons and nylons — and silently wished that one day we would be as graceful as they were.

Both of them had travelled abroad and we got many geography lessons as we eavesdropped on their conversations — learning about Singapore, France, Italy, Canada, Australia and the other countries they had visited.

And they had money — enough to give us a coin or two for our money boxes now and then. In our eyes, that made them not merely glamorous and knowledgeable, but one step ahead ... They were of independent means! It was a huge thing for us when we got a rupee note from them. They could do that without asking anyone if they should ... imagine that! Our mother, in spite of being in charge of the finances of the house, could not hand out anything freely to anyone ... she had to think of the next day’s requirements and the next and the next ...

Oh, we wanted to be those aunts!

Inevitably, the years marched on. Our aunts became older, but they retained that aura for us. Then we became aunts ourselves, and we were thrilled, quite sure that the torch would be passed on to us and there would be a whole group of young ones who would be impressed by us. We waited for youngsters to peep out from behind curtains, the glint of admiration in their eyes as we swept into their homes with tales of our lives in exotic places. But by then, the world had become a smaller place. Our nephews and nieces had seen it all on television — we could not give them fashion or geography lessons or impress them with fiction or fact. Worse, in a rapid downward spiral — for us — the age of the internet and the cell phone arrived and suddenly we are fossils, old fogeys, fuddy-duddys. “You won’t understand” is what we now hear most often — and they are right. We don’t.

We merely look on uncomprehendingly as light touches, swipes and clicks bring the world into the palm of their hands and we wonder: How did the light pass over our heads and go straight to the next generation?

Cheryl Rao is a journalist based in India.