WWF in the streets of Qadian

The 90s were a magical time, especially for those living in small towns or villages of India.  TV was the sole entertainment medium, and weekly shows were much anticipated.

In our quiet town of Qadian, most people looked forward to Friday — for adults it was the Jummah prayers, for children it was watching the WWF on TV after the prayers.  At that time, my father was in Jordan, and we were staying at my Nani’s house there.  We would rush back after the prayers to watch the WWF matches.  Qadian’s streets were quite narrow and a run home was more like an obstacle race, dodging cows, goats and tongas around every nukkar.

Reaching home, we would sit on a chatai in front of the TV, eyes glued to the screen, waiting impatiently for the sound of the gong announcing the start of the programme.  Then the screen would fill with smoke and Undertaker would walk in, followed by Kane in a red mask, with fire shooting up in the background. With the Rock’s entry, all of us would try to sing along his entry song — “If ya smelllll what The Rock… is cookin’!” in our broken English. When Triple H came, we filled our mouths with water, and spat it out into the air, copying his entrance.  And of course, when Stone Cold Steve Austin came, we shouted, laughed, and imagined ourselves smashing beer cans and stunning the world.

After the show, we would turn into these wrestling stars, having mock fights in the fields. Those days were more than just fun. They were full of freedom, joy, laughter, and dreams. In our small town, in our simple lives, the WWF made us feel powerful — like heroes.  Now things have changed. No one watches TV together. Everybody is glued to their phones. But for those of us who grew up in the 90s, somewhere deep inside, we still hear the sound of the gong and imagine little boys running to their Nani ghar after the Jummah prayers.

Nasiruddin Hamid, Qadian, Gurdaspur

Punjab