Recently I read a news report that Godrej&Boyce have stopped production of the manual typewriters. Following this report were columns and more columns with elegies for this great device which witnessed great thoughts being transferred to paper for the consumption of the masses. The transfer was accompanied by loud clicks, clatter, grrs, whhrrs and what have you, depending on the vintage and the maintenance of the machine. Scribes went ecstatic over these sounds too. To some of them it was rhapsodical. For others, a noisy machine which disturbed one's afternoon siesta. To many in government offices it was a device which could not let you take a nap at your table. Others were lulled to sleep if the typist was an accomplished one. Guess why? Because his typing was rhythmic.
As a youngster growing up in Delhi and Calcutta of the seventies, I used to walk by a number of shorthand and typing institutes on my way to school. There were young hopefuls clutching their shorthand notebooks walking into the tin-shed with a sole pedestal fan whirring away, to pick up a skill which would give them access to some secure secretarial or clerical job. The 'awakening' of the middle class was yet to happen.
By the eighties, the young hopefuls of seventies had turned into seasoned secretaries and clerks.
Then came the 286 with DOS and Wordstar became the latest buzzword in all government offices. Computers were being purchased by truckloads. To train the huge army of clerks was a task in itself. Automation committees were formed in almost all organisations. Computer training became the favourite horse. Everybody wanted to ride it.
Technology was upgraded before you could even master the earlier version. Change was imminent. There were some who saw the inevitabilty of computers replacing typewriters and they gladly embraced the new machine. They became the cynosure of all officials. They would strut about the office like prize-cocks. There were others who believed in the invincibility of the typewriter and continued to hack away at it. There were also days of irregular electric supply and the UPS would soon be beeping in protest. The typewriters devotees rejoiced at such moments. The faith of the unfaithful in the Remingtons, Godrejs, Facits and Underwoods would be restored.
Come the early nineties, the typing institutes started yielding space to the computer training institutes on the streets. A number of small entrepreneurs, sold off what they could to invest in a computer and training and thereafter start their own coaching centre. The computers moved on from 286 to 386 to 486. Typewriters were still popular and continued to be produced. The complex commands to be remembered for Wordstar deterred many people from learning the computer.
The launch of Windows95 changed everything. It was so user friendly and the help menu motivated a large number of people like myself to learn how to use a computer. The power situation improved, be it by regular supply or back-up, the reliance on computers increased. The enhancement in allocation of IT funds saw computers being purchased instead of typewriters. The writing was on the wall in bold types. The typewriters were typing out purchase orders for computers.
To start with, all computers were kept in a computer room which was airconditioned. If you had to work, you had to go to the computer room.Or the boss's office. The computer room was like a holy shrine. You had to take off your shoes before entering. Talk in hushed tones to the operator. Cajole him to type your document or make your presentation.
As more ruggedised machines came into the market, the desktops started replacing the typewriters. The typing ribbon started going off the shelves and the dot matrix printer ribbons taking the vacant space. I remember the excitement when the first inkjet printer was bought in our unit. We all gathered in the CO's office and saw the logo of our unit printed on a paper, in colour, coming out noiselessly from the recesses of the inkjet printer.
The typewriter was forgotten.