Computers and Childhood

 

I was almost six years old when my dad brought home this ‘wonder’. It came in many big and small boxes. Daddy smiled broadly with delight and excitement as he unboxed the various components. “This is our new computer”, he announced enthusiastically.

Standing silently in the corner, I observed my dad and his friend taking out a bulky monitor, a heavy CPU and multiple other components that included a wired keyboard, a wired mouse and two speakers. I watched in awe as they put together the myriad wires and assembled ‘the computer’.

 The respectable computer had a table of its own. This table was different from the other tables in our house. It had a special drawer exclusively for the keyboard that could be pulled out while working. I used to simply pull the draw to see the off-white keyboard with white and grey keys, a slightly heavy mouse with a wire and a grey ball inside.

 My mother selected the softest and smoothest cloth at home to veil the monitor and another cotton cloth for the CPU. They always remained veiled when not in use to prevent dust accumulation. Every day my cleaning-obsessed-mom would dust off the non-existent dust particles from the surface of the monitor and CPU.

The monitor was huge and heavy. It had a curved glass encased in a white plastic squarish case. It looked very much like the television we had in our living room. But unlike the TV, it didn’t show people singing and dancing. Instead, it started with a black screen of only white text and occasional images.

Next to the monitor, sat a large PC that came to life when switched on. It buzzed and hummed, and multiple lights flickered to indicate that the majestic machine has woken up from its slumber. On the side facing us, there was a circular button to switch on-off. It had two slots like a letterbox for inserting floppy discs of two sizes. Floppy discs were today’s equivalent of CDs and USB drives. Back in the day, floppy discs came in two sizes. A large black square of thick paper covering a flimsy circular glossy black disc that had a circular hole in the middle. This came in square white envelopes. I learnt that that larger floppy disc had to be treated with care. It was delicate, easily damaged and contained only a small amount of data. It was as big as one of my notebooks in school. The second kind was a study, rigid plastic box square with an interesting sliding metal shutter on top. My dad told me that the smaller floppy disks are the future, and the larger ones would get outdated soon.

At the rear end was an abundance of vents, perforations and multiple-coloured ports of various sizes and shapes to receive the wires and cables from all the different parts.

There were two speakers on either side of the that looked like identical boxes of plastic and mesh cloth. The speakers were connected to the CPU with a thin wire and one of them had two knobs and a button for switching on and off.

Daddy's work involved making drawings, plans, designs and sketches. Before the arrival of the computer, Daddy worked on a tall sloping desk with a large T-scale. He had dark brown boxes full of tools, Rotring pens and stencils. Dad's work always mesmerized me. I spend hours watching the smooth flowing black ink of his pens create intricate drawings, perfect letters and flawless shapes.

With the arrival of the computer, Daddy embarked on a mission to master AutoCAD. My father believed that computers were the future. He encouraged me to get familiar with it. He patiently explained to me how to operate it.

When I first used the computers, the operating system was MS-DOS. The computer did not speak your language. You learnt the bizarre and aberrant computer language. There was no scope for error. A spelling mistake meant a dead end. Braving to use the computer meant, searching the letters on the scrambled  QWERTY keyboard. 

My mother’s reaction to the latest addition to the house was nonchalance. She remained unmoved by my father’s enthusiasm or my curiosity. She was too busy with cleaning, cooking, feeding the people and running the house. Besides, Mummy owned a Typewriter and she was happy with her gadget. The typewriter was a bulky, noisy typing device with keys arranged three-dimensionally in different levels.  Each key had a letter marked on it. As you pressed a key, a lever attached to it swings into action, pushing a metallic stamp of the letter to fly from one end of the typewriter to the paper mounted on the cylindrical carriage. Sandwiched between the paper and the metallic stamp type was a ribbon. This ribbon was a spool of inked cloth. The carriage moved the paper to the left as the typing progressed. When you reach the edge of the paper, a bell sounds. You have to press the large lever on the left. This turns the paper up to the next line and moves the carriage back to the start line. 

Watching my mom type was like watching an orchestra perform. I watched the keys dancing, making a print on paper, the paper gliding to the left and my mom pressing the keys in quick progression. My mom used to type really fast and she did not look at the keys only at the paper. She knew all the keys of this disorganized set of letters. She rarely made any mistake. I watched in admiration, at her and at the working of the typewriter.

My father insisted that I should use the computer. My mom believed that it was not for children to play. She did not let me touch a key on the typewriter. Mummy always believed that kids had this inherent potential to destroy things and hence everything should be kept safe and locked up. So she locked up my dolls, my toys, my painting sets and her typewriter.

Daddy, however, was an optimist. He believed children should be given access to newer experiences.

So, I spent a significant part of my childhood, learning the keys on the keyboard. It used to irritate the younger me, that these letters were not arranged in alphabetical order. 

Over the years, computers evolved gradually. The MSDOS gave way to Windows, the computers got faster and friendlier, the keyboards and mouse got lighter and wireless,  the monitors got flatter and CPUs got smaller.

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TODAY...

I was a completely anti-device mom. And my father was still this optimist, future thinker who believed children should not be denied access to technology. My son knew how to operate a tab before he knew how to control his bowel and bladder. (before he was potty-trained.)

I vehemently opposed my father. "What is wrong with you?", my father used to ask me in genuine concern. "By denying them screen time, what are you planning to achieve?". I would like to admit now that I was unreasonable. But I was this mom who read more about the ill effects of screen time, behaviour changes and addiction to devices. 

The year 2020, changed it all. All my rules about screen time went down the drain. With the advent of online learning during the global pandemic, every child in the country became a device owner overnight.

I owned a laptop when I was 20 years, my daughter when she was 6. This device was her school, this was her madrassa, this was how she learned. So I watched navigate the computer, use the different apps and hunt for letters on the keyboard.

In the year 2021, Zayed started school. He does not know how to write his name but I watch in amusement as this zealous little fellow switches on the laptop, types his name as the password, and open the browser to see cartoons. I watch, how he troubleshoots when I switch off the wifi on the laptop. I watch, hiding my laughter, how he closes the MS Teams to 'bunk' his class and see cartoons. 

19 months into the pandemic, my kids are better aquatinted with Zoom and MS Teams than me. Today, Saira provides me with technical assistance when I'm attending a meeting on Zoom. I smile, thinking of my Dad and his optimism of computers being the future and children being exposed to technology. I was so wrong!