For the past few months, I’ve rediscovered Calvin and Hobbes thanks to the Times of India carrying it daily on their op-ed page. Though I own the entire collection, there’s something magical about the daily drip-feed that surpasses consuming dozens of strips in a single sitting. This renewed connection has awakened a flood of memories about comics and childhood.
As a kid, Amar Chitra Katha (ACK) held a special place in my heart. The fortnightly ritual of visiting the nearby store to purchase the latest issue was sacred. These treasured collections, many still preserved in bound volumes at home, shaped my understanding of history and mythology. Years later, I felt immense pride when I got permission to publish many of the comics (scanned pages) on IndiaWorld – it was one thing that NRIs missed a lot, especially those with young kids.
“The Illustrated Weekly of India” provided another comic gateway with its dedicated two-page spread featuring Phantom, Bahadur, and other characters. Indrajal Comics published complete editions that I would eagerly borrow from the Shemaroo library near my home. Mandrake and Richie Rich were among my favourites from this period.
My love for Calvin and Hobbes blossomed during my Columbia University days in the US. Bill Watterson’s wry philosophical humour captured my imagination completely. Later, when my son Abhishek was growing up, I’d sometimes see him as the spirited Calvin to my wiser Hobbes—our relationship mirroring that imaginative partnership between boy and tiger.
Commando comics, with their World War narratives, formed another chapter of my comic journey. My uncle would share these with me, two or three at a time, and we’d bond over stories of bravery and courage. These tales of individual heroism and team solidarity left lasting impressions.
As adulthood encroached, my comic enthusiasm gradually waned. I never developed an affinity for the superhero universes of Batman, Spider-Man, and Superman, nor did I explore Manga despite its global popularity.
What I cherish most was the simple joy those illustrated frames brought—compact dialogues unfolding complete narratives during an era when entertainment options were limited to a single television channel. Comics offered a vibrant alternative to Doordarshan, creating imaginary worlds alongside my beloved novels—Famous Five, Hardy Boys, Secret Seven, and later, Perry Mason. They transformed ordinary weekend afternoons into extraordinary adventures across time and space, all from the comfort of home – and a welcome diversion from school homework.
Those illustrated pages didn’t just tell stories—they built worlds, shaped perspectives, and created memories that continue to resonate decades later.
