From eerie whispers to glowing candles, relive the monsoon magic when every blackout used to bring families closer.
As the monsoon sets in and raindrops patter on window pane, this isn’t just a normal weather for many Indians—this is pure nostalgia. For every urban millennial or Gen X-er who grew up in the 80s and 90s, monsoon was incomplete without sudden power cuts that used to turn homes into haunted storytelling theatres. Yes, much before Netflix and 4G, there was the thrill of candlelight ghost stories.
The monsoon brings two things without fail—flooded streets and power cuts. As the lights flickered and TV sets went blank, instead of showing frustration, families would light a candle (or an old kerosene lamp), huddle together, and let their imaginations run wild.
Often, the grown-ups would begin:
"Did you know that in our village, there was a tree where a woman in white saree would swing at midnight…?"
And just like that, a room lit dimly by candlelight transformed into a theater of chills and excitement.
What made those storytelling sessions extra thrilling? The real background score—thunder rolling across the sky, the swish of heavy rain, and the occasional dog howling in the distance. With every clap of thunder, someone in the room would let out a nervous laugh or shriek. And if the story involved a haunted haveli or a vanishing woman, even the bravest among us held their breath.
Grandparents were often the best storytellers. Their voice modulation, their lived experiences, and the way they’d say, “This is not a story, this really happened to your uncle...” made us believe every word. Siblings, on the other hand, loved to jump-scare us halfway through, making the darkness feel even more alive.
These monsoon nights weren’t just about fear—they were about family bonding. A hot cup of masala chai, crunchy pakoras, maybe a steaming bowl of Maggi noodles for kids, and the warmth of being together. These quality times used to create a sense of belonging, long before screens (big or small) took over our attention spans.
Ask anybody who's in their 30s, those who experienced it often say they felt more connected to their families during those powerless evenings than during today’s digitally connected world.
With today’s inverters, generators, and uninterrupted internet, these raw experiences are rare. But they do matter a lot.
They remind us that imagination shouldn't always need a battery backup, and that the best “content” sometimes came from a loved one’s voice, not any phone or tab screen.
These special memories are the truest testament to the power of simplicity and connection—both human and emotional.
Sometimes, a blackout isn’t only a disruption—it’s an invitation to relive a simpler, spookier, more magical time.
