The flying robot was Johnny
Sokko’s friend; JS was mine. Or so I thought in those days. At some point of
time and for a while, a robo-buddy - or the idea of it, become as central to
the existence of a child as that of a pair of jeans with that of a teenager, a
pay cheque with an adult. And if the robot was as big as a dinosaur, possessed
firepower like a commando, and listened to your command like Bruno the pup;
then adults could frown as much as they wanted to because study time was getting
frittered away, one would be perfectly content in gallivanting away and saving
the world although one was likely to flunk the math test the day after.
It was sometime in the 80s
when Johnny Sokko and his Flying Robot
was shown on Doordarshan, and everybody liked it. Even Kuber and Moumita, who
topped the class alternately, and looked as if they would choke to death if
somebody caught them enjoying anything other than textbooks and formulaes.
Rumor had it, that they could create a robot on their own, if only they joined
forces and shared know-how. We were careful not to let them know – after all
rumor mongering was not a sign of enlightenment that comes from education, and
on second thoughts what if they succeeded?
Johnny Sokko and his group’s
main enemy was Emperor Guillotine, a super villain who would conjure
extra-terrestrial baddies in episode after episode who would nearly exterminate
the earth before being vanquished by the giant robot. The robo only responded
to Johnny, and the first half of the episodes were a blur of devastations of
various degrees, after which the robo would be called in, and we would start
the cheer.
The robot was huge and had a
pharaoh’s head dress. Why? Well, you see, only when you are young, you have
that ability to take in the bigger picture and not get lost in insignificant
details. The big picture started as soon as the android sprang to life with a
call from Johnny in movements that reminded one of drills from a physical
training class in school. And if I tell you, it never failed to get us going,
you would know what kind of hold Johnny & co had on us those days.
The story line was simple.
For over half-an-hour every week, the world would be on the brink of a disaster
and you would have to fly in and save it. Because Emperor Guillotine was
unpredictable – you never knew where his ugly henchmen would pop up, one week
it would be on the high seas, and an ice-capped mountain top the next.
Much much later, Pranoy Roy
would wow India with a weekly news capsule called The World This Week. If I am not mistaken, the burning desire to
know who let the dogs out was
instilled in us by the sci-fi fantasy serial from the land of the rising sun,
years earlier. When I was growing up, Wren & Martin had an idiom for it –
child is the father of…
Coming back to Johnny, we
never missed his adventures, at least I did not. We did not talk much about
him, we were yet to hit the age when the pleasure of saying that we did
(something) would overtake the actual deed. Stoically we saved the world, week
after week, and returned to class to accept laurels for our scholastic efforts,
or get pulled up for the lack of it.
Unlike Star Trek, a few
years later. We built the communicating device with two match boxes and an
elastic band and skipped lunch to role-play the inter-galactic epic for months
before parents and teachers wised up and forbid us from passing food. After
that most of us finished tiffin in the period before recess, and rushed out to
play as soon as the bell rang. If you want to make something popular, ban it.
Yes, poor Sachin was going
through a phase when he wanted to be accepted, to fit in, and would willingly
play the ‘monster’ everyday till his patience ran out. I don’t remember much of
it except that he put his foot down one day, and we acquiesced rather
sheepishly. Kids do have a natural affinity for cruelty as William Golding
points out in Lord of the Flies; they
also can make out what’s right from wrong. Borrowing Heath Ledger’s words from The Dark Knight, the sense of right and
wrong like madness is similar to gravity. All
it requires is a little push…
But Johnny was different. Thankfully,
he came in the evenings, and I did not have to bunk school. Several years down
the line, with one year to go before the board, I would discover an afternoon
serial with Swaroop Swampat in it, and I would never be in school on Thursdays.
(In a different context, I would come to know that she was married to Paresh
Rawal, and for a while I would know what it is to live with hope. And then,
when I would get acquainted with Mr Rawal’s body of work, I would know how
hopeless hope is…)
Johnny was special because I
could be him, and so could Kuber, Moumita, and Sachin. I met him when the world
was young and possibilities endless. We were all kings in the world of kingdoms
(amra sabai raja amader ei rajar rajotte). Maybe that’s why he has remained a friend forever.
