In 1993, when I was relocating from Delhi for Bhopal, Tarun gifted me a cassette with some Bob Dylan music.
An year later, visiting family friends who lived above some shops in 10 Number Market, I heard another Bob Dylan album. Not wanting to copy music, I pedalled all over Bhopal looking for a cassette of Under The Red Sky, unsuccessfully.
Spending the summer of 1996 at Panjab University Chandigarh, I finally scored another Bob Dylan cassette in the Sector 17 market, for the princely sum of ₹150.
A few minutes ago, I opened Spotify and typed in Bob Dylan, and every song ever created by the legend was available to me.
So accustomed are we to the relentless march of technology, that new developments rarely shock or excite us. Till something we do brings with it a flood of memories - of longing, of searching, and of wanting to belong.
[Nilay is the same age now. Every Saturday evening he cycles to Anjuna Beach, where a bunch of teenagers gather to skateboard and hang. He belongs, in a way that he has never belonged before. When he gets back home, the 25km range of his cycle battery has long been spent. The freedom to go wherever they want, be with whoever they desire, and do whatever they love, is all that teenagers (or any of us, for that matter) crave.]
An year later, visiting family friends who lived above some shops in 10 Number Market, I heard another Bob Dylan album. Not wanting to copy music, I pedalled all over Bhopal looking for a cassette of Under The Red Sky, unsuccessfully.
Spending the summer of 1996 at Panjab University Chandigarh, I finally scored another Bob Dylan cassette in the Sector 17 market, for the princely sum of ₹150.
A few minutes ago, I opened Spotify and typed in Bob Dylan, and every song ever created by the legend was available to me.
So accustomed are we to the relentless march of technology, that new developments rarely shock or excite us. Till something we do brings with it a flood of memories - of longing, of searching, and of wanting to belong.
[Nilay is the same age now. Every Saturday evening he cycles to Anjuna Beach, where a bunch of teenagers gather to skateboard and hang. He belongs, in a way that he has never belonged before. When he gets back home, the 25km range of his cycle battery has long been spent. The freedom to go wherever they want, be with whoever they desire, and do whatever they love, is all that teenagers (or any of us, for that matter) crave.]