Childhood games that Millennials have missed
W henever in the company of my children and their friends, I make a conscious effort to avoid using trite and boring phrases such as, ‘In our times, things weren’t so expensive’ or ‘we never had it so easy’, or ‘you don’t know how lucky you all are’... I do this because I am sure they raise their eyebrows, nudge each other and surreptitiously start shuffling their feet, looking to make a sneaky getaway before they are subject to a long reminiscent lecture about the prohibitive cost of things today, instant accessibility of information and goods without any effort. The ‘Millennials’ (a word coined recently for those born between 1982 and 2004 ) are completely dependent on the social media, where they look for approval, sanction , endorsement and literally cock a snook at the real world around them.
Be that as it may, what seriously appals me is when my students tell me in all earnestness that they have never read a single book, besides what is prescribed in their school curriculum. They cite their busy study schedule for never having played ‘pithoo’ or ‘hopscotch’ in neighbourhood parks or searched the sky at night for the magical sight of constellations because, like really, who does that anymore and besides, what is YouTube for!
My daughter at 29, is an old soul trapped in a young body. She nostalgically recalls her childhood and recounts precious nuggets of incidents with her brother and cousins during the summer vacations. The rapport the children shared was so special.
They played board games, sometimes cheating and quarrelling over them, ran amok in the garden with the hose pipe spraying each other with water, and sat around long after dinner, chatting into the night, making endless cups of coffee and messing the kitchen with spilled milk, noodles draped over the counter and burnt pans. We both giggle hysterically when she describes a game they all called ‘dark room’. It involved shutting out all lights, even the bits filtering through tiny chinks in doors and windows and then one person, turn by turn, had to find each child and name him or her correctly in the dark. She had me in splits of laughter when she explained how the girls, always smarter and cleverer than the boys would confound them by tying their hair in topknots similar to the young sardars, so making it impossible to tell them apart. Then when the boys caught wind of the ploy and opened their long hair hoping to be mistaken for the girls, the latter, who were always a step ahead had their tresses flowing too! They never needed props or tools to keep them busy. My husband was always inadvertently at the receiving end of their playfulness and the one to wince and bawl, if they accidently stepped onto his beloved flower beds, but in good humour, would soon join them at a game of cricket, reminiscing about his prowess during college days.
When I look back on those simple, carefree days, I realise that what is missing today is the warmth of an informal hug, candid one-to-one conversations and confidences shared over a steaming cup of coffee. Those childhood games where we bonded, those shared confidences with our parents, that unshaken faith in friends, all laid ground for moulding us, hopefully into good human beings, not necessarily acquiring fancy academic degrees, snooty colleges, prowess on Facebook or the ability to be eloquent, pompously and aggressively, on Twitter!
THE GENERATIONY BRUGADE CITES THEIR BUSY STUDY SCHEDULE FOR NEVER HAVING PLAYED ‘PITHOO’ OR ‘HOPSCOTCH’ OR SEARCHED THE SKY AT NIGHT FOR CONSTELLATIONS