When those aged 80 or more say life was better in their day, we are obliged to take their word for it. We were not there.
But you know how oral history played out in these parts. After the harvest, a band of rich, old men would gather over a fire to thank the gods. In no time, bellies fortified with starch and bitter herbs, tongues loosened by millet brew, they would start manufacturing fake news, which they would diligently season with salt each harvest season and spread with the speed a politician’s nudes does the rounds in WhatsApp groups. Did I hear you suggest that their wives ran Broadcasting House for propagating the fake news? Shame on you for that cheap, sexist shot.