When the Screen Was Silent: Childhood Beyond Television

When the Screen Was Silent: Childhood Beyond Television

When people today ask, “What TV shows did you watch as a kid?” I smile, for the answer is simple and yet profound – none at all. There was no glowing box in the corner of the room, no flickering images shaping my evenings, no jingles or commercials echoing in my head. My childhood unfolded in a world where silence was not absence, but presence; where imagination was not outsourced, but deeply owned.

Instead of remote controls, we held the reins of our own creativity. The theatre of the mind was more vibrant than any broadcast. Stories travelled through whispered folklore, the turning pages of well-worn books, or the captivating rhythm of a wandering minstrel. Every rustle of leaves in the evening wind, every constellation studded across the night sky, seemed to tell a tale. The earth itself was our storyteller.

Philosophers often remind us that true wisdom lies not in what we consume, but in what we perceive. Aristotle wrote of catharsis through drama, yet in my world, catharsis came not from staged performances but from witnessing life in its raw authenticity – the first monsoon shower kissing parched soil, the golden sunrise painting new beginnings, or the deep hush of twilight signalling closure.

It was a childhood where time stretched like an endless meadow. Play was not choreographed by channels, but by instinct – running barefoot on soft soil, chasing dragonflies, inventing games with pebbles, or gazing into clouds to sculpt castles of fancy. In those moments, the soul discovered a rhythm closer to nature than to technology.

Looking back, I realise that not having television was not a deprivation, but a liberation. The absence of a screen created a presence of thought, of dialogue, of stillness. In that quietude, we learned to listen – to the laughter of friends, to the wisdom of elders, to the murmurs of rivers and the silent counsel of stars.

Today, when entertainment is at one’s fingertips, I sometimes wonder if children miss the sheer poetry of waiting, the magic of imagination unshaped by ready-made visuals. For what is childhood if not the first draft of our philosophy of life?

The French philosopher Rousseau once said, “The world of reality has its limits; the world of imagination is boundless.” My childhood, untouched by the glow of television, was precisely that – a boundless field where the mind galloped free, unfenced by screens.

And so, to the question, “What TV shows did you watch as a kid?” my answer remains both simple and profound: none. But in that silence, I watched the greatest show of all – life itself, staged by nature, directed by time, and narrated by the soul.

When no screen flickered, the stars would shine,
The moon was the lantern, its wisdom divine.
Dreams took their wings in the still of the night,
Stories were woven in dawn’s golden light.

No jingle, no drama, no scripted applause,
Just nature’s own rhythm, with infinite cause.
A childhood unscripted, yet wondrously free,
The truest of shows, was life’s poetry.