I remember the first time I heard a tape recorder; it must have been in the late sixties. Goa was still in its innocent stage, yet to be exposed to technology beyond the radio and gramophone.

From early times, Goans migrated to other lands for better opportunities. Many went to Africa, the British colonies, or the Gulf. It was one of our neighbors, who had come on a break from Kuwait, who introduced us to this tape recorder. Our village was primarily agrarian with paddy as the main product. Before taking it to the mill, the paddy underwent boiling and drying processes.

Drying was done at the neighbor's space. As casual conversations and mild gossip ensued, he started his recorder, and after some time played the recording. At about eight years old, I still remember the astonishment on everyone's faces, including mine.

It was a miraculous experience for all, yet simultaneously embarrassing to listen to our out-of-rhythm voices and the unease of gossip being recorded.

This moment spontaneously came back to me almost fifty-seven years later as I enjoyed music of my choice from a cellphone on a sophisticated music system.