Lying on a satranji on the rooftop of our 10th-floor building during the recent curfew, I was instantly carried back to my early childhood.
I recalled the evenings of 2010, when my parents, brother and I would spend hours on the rooftop of our duplex home. We would be under the vast open sky or sometimes bask in the glow of a half or full moon. We would frequently spot shooting stars.
My sibling and I would lie nestled beside our parents on a shital pati or a cotton sheet.
However, now the colourful and fancy satranjis replaced our traditional shital pati in most regions, especially in urban areas.
Trapped in a five-day internet blackout and the ongoing state-imposed curfew, I found myself nostalgic for a time when life was simpler. The long-standing digital life reverted to an obsolete existence with no access to the internet and modern technologies like smartphones, social media platforms, video calls, multimedia messages, location-sharing services, mobile financial services, etc.
On the night of July 18, internet services across the country were abruptly suspended. According to the Bangladesh government, three data centres in Dhaka’s Mohakhali — which host 70 per cent of the ISP servers — and hundreds of kilometres of cables were burnt by the mobs during the turmoil that spiralled out from the quota reform movement on that night.
On July 23, internet service was partially restored, providing only broadband connections in some areas. Mobile internet was restored five days later, on July 28.
The sudden alienation from the digital world and the confinement of the curfew pushed people to adopt obsolete methods for communication, entertainment, news and spending downtime.
Communication
As smartphones became almost non-useful without internet-based communication apps, my friends and I purchased SMS packages and minute bundles for communication, just as we did during the decade of 2005-2015. We stayed connected by sending text messages and talking on the phone for hours using free minutes, just like our teenage years.
I remember the thrill of waiting for a message reply, not knowing if it had been received or read by the person on the other side. This brought back the innocence of our bonds with our loved ones.
No millennials or early Gen Zers like us thought we would experience this thrill again in an era where we can easily track each other's activities online. If I had access to internet services during this anomaly, I would have surveilled the people I care about by checking their online presence through various social media platforms rather than making direct phone calls to know if they were safe and sound.
This crisis even reconnected me with people I had lost touch with over time.
In this regard, Md Ahsanul Kabir, a recent graduate, remarked, “The past few days of the internet blackout made me realise that it is not that hard to make phone calls!”
Menu
During the curfew, markets, shops, restaurants, and bakeries were closed. Grocery stores in our area were only open when the curfew was lifted for brief hours every day. With popular snacks like junk food, sweets, and processed food unavailable, we made Jhal muri (spicy puffed rice) at home. Jhal muri, a popular homemade snack from my childhood, returned to our menu. This simple snack item, which had nearly vanished in the age of processed food, found its place in our home again.
Ferdous Jahan Chowdhury Joya, a mother of two toddlers and the owner of a catering business, stated that due to the unavailability of grocery items, she made traditional dishes for her children during the curfew period. “My younger son insisted on having pizza. As I could not access modern grocery items, I simply made him Kima Paratha – a traditional stuffed bread – using flour and potatoes,” she said.
“When I was young, my mother used to cook this for me and my siblings as our evening snack,” she added.
Entertainment
Internet is a major source of entertainment, and many youths were dismayed by its absence. During this downtime, teens and youths engaged in indoor games, including board and card games.
In the past, millennials found entertainment in reminiscing over old photographs and playing ringtones on their parents’ cell phones.
Momo, a sixth-grade student, said, “My half-yearly exams were suspended due to the unanticipated curfew. To pass the time, I explored old pictures on my mother's phone and read the ‘Tin Goyenda’ novel, which was very thrilling for me.”
Her elder sister Munia, a college fresher, relied on FM radios for information and entertainment. However, expressing dissatisfaction, she said, “There were amazing shows used to broadcast on FM radio when I was a child. Now, I only found some radio shows containing music and excessive advertisements.”
Sarzil Ahmed, a copywriter and vocalist, said that boredom led him to play ringtones on his cell phone through a loudspeaker for entertainment. “I became nostalgic, remembering the time when I was only 10 years old and would listen to the ringtones installed on my mother’s foldable phone for hours. This was one of our primary sources of entertainment. I never thought I would do this again, especially now that I am a grown man,” he said.
Tehosin Ashraf, a graduate, expressed the joy of meeting with his friends after a long time. “Despite the curfew, I met my childhood friends at the school playground and played Carrom after a long time,” he said.
Children, blessed with innocence and simplicity, did not experience many difficulties during the crisis. In this regard, Najmiyyah Rahman Aheer, an eight-year-old, stated, “The internet shutdown did not bother me that much. I played Ludo with my parents, drew scenes from the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, and created my own versions of the epics.”
“I also read more books so I could draw the characters,” she added.
Accessing information
Our generation heavily depends on the internet for information. With internet service halted, people turned to traditional media – television, newspaper, and radio – to stay informed about the country’s situation.
In my home, my parents relied on FM radios for news.
Attention to print media increased as online media platforms were inaccessible. Md Samiur Rahman Sazzad, a young journalist, stated, “During this downtime, I bought three national newspapers daily to keep me updated which usually never happens. Before this exclusion from the internet, I would access any information from my workplace, social media or my allies.”
Digital detox
The unexpected internet blackout led many to clear their minds and strengthen bonds with family and neighbours.
Without digital entertainment, my family and I shared stories from our past and reminisced about golden moments together. Many read books and wrote journals in their leisure time.
Recalling the old days, Samiur said, “The last time I wrote diaries was in secondary school. Now, I have started writing a diary again from the first day of the curfew.”
“I wrote one page daily about the moments I am spending with my family and in my workplace during this crisis period,” he added.
Samia Rahman, an upcoming graduate, stated that she got more connected to her family during the ongoing curfew.
“I provided my family with undivided attention and care which had not been happening for a long time,” she said.
She used this time to practice reading her religious scripture, a habit her mother instilled in her during childhood. “When I was little, my mom forced me to read the Quran every day. Now, we are too busy to open our religious scripture and practice our religion,” she added.
Mehedi Hasan Mahfuj, a student of apparel manufacturing technology, said, “The internet blackout was a wake-up call to our online dependency. Being incommunicado and bored, I rediscovered fun by playing the card game UNO and Ludo with my family.”
“I could not help but appreciate the brief, unintended logout from the digital world,” he expressed.
People also bonded with neighbours during this time. Many organised social gatherings within their buildings.
Mridula Akter, a young girl, described the week as a "roller coaster of joy and happiness." Residents of her building arranged Choruivati (traditional picnics) on the rooftop.
“We organised Choruivati almost every day during the internet blockage, cooking a variety of traditional dishes on an earthen stove,” she said.
“As we grew up, we started visiting our hometown less frequently. This Choruivati party made me nostalgic for the cherished memories with my cousins in our hometown,” she added.
Maeesha Samiha Athay, a 25-year-old freelance artist and entrepreneur, could not access the art studio or canvas shop, preventing her from completing her orders. “Initially, it was very difficult, but gradually we got used to it.
“The whole family started playing board games, and I cooked various dishes for them to express my love, something I usually cannot afford to do due to my bustling life,” she said.
“We even listened to FM radio together almost every night,” she added.
Sadia Binte Alam, a teenager, expressed the joy of reliving her childhood by playing traditional games with her siblings and neighbours on her rooftop. “My two siblings and I played Borof Pani, Lukuchuri (hide and seek), and Ludo with our cousins and neighbours. These are the games we used to play when we were very young,” she said.
“We are probably the last generation to know how to enjoy moments by playing these traditional games,” she remarked.
Despite the losses the nation has experienced since July 18 during clashes and unprecedented violence, unaware of the woeful situation, the week without internet led people to engage in traditional offline activities — allowing family members and friends to connect on an emotional level.
