For most of our lives, we had no idea about remote controls. Our homes were devoid of gadgets that required such long-distance electronic marvels to switch them on and off and we encountered ‘remotes’ only in swanky hotel rooms — if we got a chance to visit one.
Of course, when we did, we skirted it like we would a tiger’s enclosure, much too nervous to operate that ‘remote’ to pull the drapes aside or switch on the television set, convinced that something would go wrong and we would be asked to pay compensation from an empty pocket or bank account that was just on the brink of going into the red. Better by far to let the curtains stay shut and slide between them and the windows if we wanted to get a view of the landscape; and definitely easier to forget about watching our favourite television shows and read the book of rules and regulations and “suggestions” for guests that was couched in language so beguiling that it took some time to figure out that it all boiled down to: PAY FOR ALL EXTRAS.
Today, however, remote controls and those little push-button contraptions are everywhere. And you hear about them in other spheres as well — politics, business, and other areas that don’t come to mind easily but are nevertheless as prone: Someone pulls the strings and presses the buttons and everything goes along in the manner that has been decided upon by the string puller or the button presser.
So why should a normal home be exempt? Haven’t you noticed that everything functions well as long as there is someone from somewhere calling out the instructions: “Switch off the lights”, “Turn off/on the gas”, “Take a sheet of foil from the third drawer on the right for your sandwiches’, and so on, ad infinitum — and ad nauseam?
But who wants to be the puppeteer in a normal everyday household where people are on the move all day and have to be fed and washed and clothed and entertained? Who in their right senses would want to be on call 24 hours a day to find the sauce bottle that cannot be located despite a desperate search or open a lid that defies both brawn and brain power?
Why does everyone shy away from being the remote controller at home?
The question plagued me for all those years I rushed about calling instructions here and there and by and large being misunderstood and misinterpreted until there was no option but to yell grudgingly, “Hang on! I’m coming! I’ll do it!” and proceed to be a hands-on provider of all things to everyone.
Thus it was that the bottle cap that would not open with brute force turned for me — thanks to the judicious use of a knife edge on a strategic spot. The jar of mayonnaise that was hiding in a corner of the fridge, out of sight of everyone, jumped into my hands without any persuasion. The cushions that were flattened and limp suddenly sprang to life under my none-too-gentle ministrations. And so on through most aspects of an essentially normal household ...
Now, much too late to change the ways of the household or the competence of its members, having been cook, cleaner, entertainment planner, small savings squirreller and a host of other things, I realise why no one wants to touch the remote control in our house.
It is because the remote controllers in our home are not really remote, having jumped into the fray while others played dumb or were just too “caught up” with the “higher” problems of life to pay attention to humdrum everyday stuff.
What’s more, they are not really controllers either.
Instead, they are the controlled.
Cheryl Rao is a journalist based in India.
