Dumped Dabba TVs
Once upon a time, the good old ‘dabba’ TV reigned supreme in every household—big, boxy, and built like a tank. Now, they’ve been unceremoniously cast aside, left abandoned on roadsides like relics from a forgotten era. The march of technology has turned them from prized possessions into urban debris.
The sight of one sitting out in the open is enough to send a wave of nostalgia crashing over those who grew up watching Sunday cartoons or cricket matches on its curved screen. Meanwhile, a bunch of wide-eyed kids from the touchscreen generation stood around, scratching their heads, wondering what on earth this strange, bulky contraption could be, as witnessed by this Shillong Jottings member.
Ah, the good old days, when TVs didn’t compete to be the thinnest, and no one obsessed over pixels or refresh rates. They were just happy to exist, curvy and proud. And yet, here we are, where they are now no more than discarded memories gathering dust on a corner of Shillong’s streets.
The beauty and brutality of the Shillong rains
What could be better on a Sunday than hearing the rain drumming on your rooftop, the clinking of raindrops, the cold breeze slipping through your window, and the perfect excuse to wrap yourself in a blanket with a hot cup of coffee? Surely this is what poets wrote about!
That is, of course, until reality slaps you in the face if you happen to be outside. Because in Shillong, rain doesn’t only fall; it attacks. The more appropriate idiom here would be, In Shillong, it rains sticks and stones, and not cats and dogs!
May only god help the trusty umbrella that was designed for ‘normal’ rain, not an aerial assault.
And while you’re busy dodging nature’s little ice bullets, someone from the comfort of their home is probably taking aesthetic pictures of the hail-covered roads, while meanwhile, the ones out are here reevaluating the life choices, soaked to the bone, wishing they had just stayed in bed.
Ah, Shillong rains, romantic for the ones indoors, ruthless for the ones outside.
