First of anything is always special. And when it’s an air conditioner (AC), things get ‘cooler’ automatically. We recall the excitement that followed the purchase and arrival of the first AC in Indian homes.

– The Indian Trumpet’s Fan Special Edition

I still remember the day when the AC was first installed at our home.

Long before global warming was the ‘it’ thing and the temperatures of Bombay didn’t melt plastic, people, and plastic people; like it does now. The heat clubbed with humidity had begun to get unbearable, especially for top-floor residents like us.

It was a surprise purchase by mum and happily surprised we were! What followed next was total theatre because no one wanted to leave the bedroom of our humble 1BHK apartment. No one. Not even the nosy neighbour aunty who found every possible excuse to ‘drop in’ to comment on the weather of the world

Those days, life was simpler. There weren’t too many options. No split, not the ones with an inverter, no eco models – just the plain simple noisy, bulky window ACs. That bump seen in the window was considered as a prize, only the fortunate few had it. And when we had our own prize, the scientist in me did one of the things I always wanted to do. I tried to bring the temperatures down to a freezing four or five to see if it snowed in the room. Of course, my foolish attempt was futile. And I beg your pardon but don’t judge me on this. It was one of those crazy things I think!

Remotes… oh they were a totally different story. I don’t think any of us were as possessive of the AC remote as we were of the TV one (Set-top boxes came much later). ‘TV remote replicas are cheaper and the AC ones are hard to find,’ said the installation guy slyly. That made it even more of a prized possession. And did we manage to lose it – oh yes we all do, don’t we? All remotes are meant to be lost, at least five times. The crisis included fights over who held it last and who messed up the settings from cool to dry.

And because the bills had to be under check, I don’t think we ever ran it all night. The AC was supposed to cool the room for an hour or two, then the fan took over. Mum’s voice still runs in my head when we now run the AC for longer periods: “AC band karo – warna bill bohot ayega!!!” (Shut the AC or we’ll get a huge bill). However, what takes the cake of the entire euphoria around the air conditioner is mum yelling from the kitchen to shut the bedroom’s sliding door. “AC ki cooling bahar ja rahi hai”. This was a crime, a serious one.

Our modest 1-ton AC has served us for a good two decades. It still runs. It died several times but was always pumped back to life by the repair guys. Oh and every time it undergoes service, the mechanic gives us a rude look and hands a rupee coin or two that he fishes from the vent. I wonder who puts it there?

This and more stories await in The Indian Trumpet!