Cassettes, Video Game Parlours and the 10-Taka Recharge: The Tech That Raised Us

From The 90s Kids Island — another memory, this time about the technology that raised us: museum pieces today, life itself back then.

The machines that taught us "digital"

Today's kids ask a voice assistant for a song — we used to flip a cassette over and over to find the one we loved. Between those two generations sits a whole era of technology, holding our hands through the first lessons of the digital world. This is an honest little tribute to those "ancient machines".

1. The cassette player: the first masterclass in patience

Want to hear a song again? Rewind. Poke a finger or a pen into the spool and wait about three minutes. Recording songs off the radio onto a blank cassette was the original playlist-crafting — and the radio presenter's voice always landed in the middle of your best recording! Kids of the streaming age will never understand: that's exactly why we knew the value of every single song.

2. The video game parlour: the first "gaming zone"

A TV and a console inside a shop, a line of kids in front — pocket change traded for a turn at the controls. The older boys standing behind offered free coaching: "Go up! Up!" Playing that last life carefully before the coins ran out — no ranked match today matches the tension of that moment. If you know, you know.

3. The telephone and recharge math

One phone per house — and around it, the ears of the whole family. "Recharge ten taka" meant the shortest yet most precious conversation on earth. Some people wrote out what they wanted to say before dialing — and hung up having said everything except the actual thing.

4. Movie night on the VCP

A rented movie on the rich uncle's VCP — mats spread across the roof, muri and chanachur instead of popcorn. When the tape snagged, everyone shouted "Rewind it! Play it again!" — and that break was exactly when the best conversations happened. Streaming gave us convenience; the "all of us together" part never came back.

5. The calculator and the digital watch

Whoever's digital watch lit up was the tech kid of the neighborhood. And typing a word upside-down on a calculator to show a friend — that, I'm convinced, was the 90s' first messaging system.

The honest ending

Those machines taught us patience, repair-over-replace, and sharing with less — not the speed of scrolling. Today I'm a designer, a fully digital person, but I still spend that cassette-rewinding patience on every project. Which machine from that era did you love the most? Tell me in the comments — the museum on this island owes them all a place.

— Rahul Smoothy ·  The 90s Kids Island ·  Back to the main island

📼 More from The 90s Kids Island

• Saturday Mornings in 90s Bangladesh — cartoons, rice & dal, and the field
• Inspired by Roblox, I Built My Own Island — the parlour kid, thirty years later
• 7 Golden Rules to Outsmart Online Shopping Scams — the same street-smarts, online

Saturday Mornings in 90s Bangladesh: Cartoons, Rice & Dal, and the Field

This article sails in from The 90s Kids Island — the memory island of the archipelago. For those who lived it, and for those who'd like a story of a different time.

The weekend that was its own festival

For a kid in 1990s Bangladesh, the whole week circled one question — "What's happening on Saturday?" Because Saturday meant cartoons, a proper rice-and-dal lunch, an aunt's house and an afternoon on the field. No smartphones, no streaming — and somehow the joy outshines any screen time I've had since. Come, let's go back to one of those mornings.

9 AM: a seat reserved in front of the TV

The real king of the weekend was television. I'd be planted in front of it long before the cartoon began — and who grabbed the remote first was the house's first match of the day. We had the advertisements memorized by heart. Thinking back, what a strange little talent that was!

Noon: a plate of rice and dal, eyes on the screen

Mother's rice, dal and potato mash — with the serial running beside it. The "no TV while eating" rule quietly earned a weekend pardon. That combination of taste and excitement is something no five-star hotel has ever managed, I can tell you.

Afternoon: the field, the rain, the lost ball

As the afternoon cooled, the call went out: "Coming out to play?" The lane or the school ground — whose ball, whose bat, whose tennis ball ended up on the roof — every afternoon was its own little epic. Rain meant muddy football; and walking home came the shout, still three houses away: "Ammu, I'm going for a shower!"

Evening: stories at the corner shop

Evening meant a cup of tea, the uncles of the neighborhood and their circle of stories. Ghost stories from one, cricket legends from another — we sat silent, half terrified, half delighted. Those circles, I now realize, were my first classes in storytelling.

Night: a notebook full of cartoons

Sitting down at the study table at night, the morning's scenes still playing in my head. Someone would fill the corners of their notebook with sketches of cartoon characters — and catch it from the teacher the next day. No art school on earth has taught me what those notebook corners did.

The honest ending

The kids of the 90s grew up — some into designers (me, for one), some engineers, some parents. The technology changed, but one lesson from those Saturdays still works every day: complete joy can come from very little — if your mind is open. You're on this island, which means some Saturday of yours is tangled up in here too. Tell me in the comments — what was the biggest joy of your weekend?

— Rahul Smoothy ·  The 90s Kids Island ·  Back to the main island

📼 More from The 90s Kids Island

• Cassettes, Parlours and the 10-Taka Recharge — the next chapter of the 90s
• Inspired by Roblox, I Built My Own Island — from Saturday cartoons to building worlds
• Why a Small-Town Designer Might Be Right for Your Brand — the kid from the field, grown up