The time of our lives

When we were children, we used these film roll cameras. With each film, we could take a limited number of shots – without seeing the results as soon as we took a picture and without deleting the ones we did not like.  Over a period of time, we would run out of the film and had to send it for developing. Oh, God. One of the most vivid memories from my childhood is the day Dad would come back home with the album of developed photos. We would fight! Who is going to see them first!! So we used to see them sitting together and re-live the recently lived moments and laugh, make fun of each other’s faces – laugh more. It was an activity I eagerly looked forward to. Watching pictures together.

It was that time my life when there was no Delete button – the original shot was the last shot.

It was that time of my life when the family sat together to watch these pictures, there was no WhatsApp, no Facebook or Instagram. We felt the memories between our fingers, with the ones we made those memories with.

It was the time when there were no pouts, we grinned. There were no filters, we did not feel the need to use them. We were beautiful before we got corrupted. Either the pictures were overexposed or underexposed or sometimes, perfectly exposed with sunlight flares. Some of them had dark vignettes around the corners because the finger would cover the lens a bit…A lot of them are sepia-toned because of all the years that went by. Beautiful, raw, vintage. ( I find some of these old photos very arty! ). We talk about megapixels now, we talk about the strength of a lens, we boast of the clarity of pictures and features in our smartphone cameras…

This is me in India Gate.. sometime during the 80s. Blurred. But whenever I look at this picture, it teleports me to that evening I was in India Gate with my family. I would travel in my dad’s first car with the windows rolled down, there was barely any pollution, barely any traffic. It was a beautiful time of my life.

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Heart-tugging. Childhood. I am glad I was born in the 80s and spent my childhood and teenage without the advanced technology. We just had the television and that was enough. We froze moments not to share it with the world but to look at them years later and go back in time.

Thank God for that.

You don’t miss what you never had. It’s strange though, that with the influx of technology and the overwhelming availability of snapshots from every person’s life that are extensively available on the Internet – I achingly miss the time when there was no Facebook, no WhatsApp, and no Instagram. When I did not need a picture proof to see what was happening in another person’s life. I miss that time.

….when we were simply photographed, unlike now when while being photographed, there’s one thought going on in the back of our minds, “Is it Insta worthy? Dp? Story or Feed?” – resulting in deletion. Complete annihilation of the moment.

…when we lived, we shared with the ones who mattered and they did not have to press the ‘like’ button or react with a heart emoji to let you know they loved you.

Thankful for being an 80s Kid. ❤

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