Are you doing okay without the news of the bumper production of lemon?

A few days ago, Social media, once our lifeline, became a ghost town in no time. No more endless scrolling to soothe our eyes, no more dopamine hits from likes and comments. It was as if we'd been exiled to a digital Siberia.

Panic ensued. People rediscovered the art of conversation, a relic from a bygone era. Topics ranged from the existential dread of the internet unavailability to the culinary exploits of Maggi noodles.

As we are very familiar with using the internet, most of us need to remember to download our favourite songs and keep humming to ourselves and the people around us with the wrong melody and lyrics. People need help to search on Google. But one should be entertained, even in distress—shouldn't they? 

Friends emerged by taking the risk of their lives, some to protest, some to protect themselves from the ghost of boredom. Decks of cards fell on the floor. Reminiscing went on for hours, and with a small time break, everyone talked about how sad the whole scenario was. 

It was a complete lockdown, and everybody was panicking about the endless news feed scrolling that kept them awake for hours. How would one sleep without watching over 100 reels in half an hour? The lullaby form changed long ago; now, only reels can make us sleep. 

But after being almost hysterical about the internet's invisibility, our minds woke. Finally, we wanted to get accurate news about the 'whatever went wrong' situation around us.

The mesmerising concert of firings outside left us no choice but to turn on the decorative three-band radio from the almirah. The forgotten transistor radio emerged from dusty corners, starkly contrasting the usual cacophony of online chatter.

Its broadcasts often focused on the wonders of fish farming and the core of an agriculture-based country. It felt like a time warp, transporting listeners back to a simpler era, like stepping into the pages of Humayun Ahmed's 'Aguner Poroshmoni.'

But along with all the 'good news' broadcast on the radio, we have been missing some good TV reports on the bumper lemon production in Chhagalnaiya.

Feel-good news like that always cheers our mood, even during a personal or national crisis. Life is never the same without it. 

In television, where reality often takes a backseat to ratings, we are blessed that a channel is dedicated to the relentless pursuit of agricultural excellence.

Its programming is a verdant oasis, a testament to the nation's unwavering commitment to crop cultivation. From dawn to dusk, viewers are treated to a visual symphony of swaying paddy fields, plump mangoes, and contented cows.

It's as if the entire country is one giant, green, and incredibly fertile garden. Never mind the pressing issues of the day, be it economic downturns, political crises, or social unrest, this channel remains steadfast in its mission to showcase the nation's agricultural prowess.

It's a channel where even a national emergency is framed as an opportunity for soil enrichment. Sadly, the channel is not in its golden days right now, and we are missing so much development news when we need it the most. The internet is partially back, but we are all prepared for the next power cut. It would be great to have our favourite Mr. Goody two-shoes channel back, wouldn't it be?

Well, this write-up may not be the ideal scenario for Bangladesh in the last few days, but can many of you relate?

[email protected]