It was a typical sultry evening. Suddenly the house was plunged into darkness. One of several unpredictable power shutdowns. The inverter, with no time to recharge between breakdowns, had also gone on the blink. I stretched my hand out to my feeble, octogenarian mother-in-law and asked her to remain seated till I got the torch and candles out. “Oh, but I am used to darkness,” she said, her voice amazingly loud and confident.

She then went on to describe her experiences of growing up in a Kerala village which had no electricity. The houses were built like tunnels with common walls on both sides. Light, therefore, filtered in from just the front and the back. There would be a single lantern lit after dusk, with the wick kept at the minimum length (to ensure its longevity). This would be hung at a central place.

For moving from room to room, people would be provided a small egg-shaped lamp with strict instructions that they were to put it off once they reached their destination. Matchsticks were seldom used, since they cost money but a lit twig from the burning logs in the kitchen was carried with the lamp.

Everybody was encouraged to finish their work while there was daylight. This included trips to the toilet, which was always on the far side of the compound. Occasionally there was an emergency usually because of a child. An adult would then accompany the kid on the odyssey with the lantern and a stick to ward off stray dogs and snakes.

... contd.