Childhood Games We Played Before Google

When Playgrounds Were Our Screens

There was a time when the word “battery” didn’t mean charging phones. It meant our own energy, bubbling inside us, waiting to be burnt on the playground. No screens. No swipes. Just a few stones, some chalk, and a playground that never needed Wi-Fi. Those were the days of unforgettable childhood games.

Here’s a walk down the gali of my childhood, where friendships were built over sweaty games and minor cheating was considered a survival skill.

Stapu- The Art of Staying Inside the Lines

Stapu was my first introduction to balance, focus and healthy competition. Hop. Hop. Jump. Hop again. And don’t you dare step on the line! We didn’t call it hopscotch back then, but our feet knew the rhythm by heart. It was one of those timeless childhood games that never got old.

And let’s not forget the patthar, that magical piece of stone we’d fight over because “mera wala zyada balanced hai.” We’d sometimes hunt the school ground like archaeologists, searching for that perfect pebble.
The chalk lines decided our fates—one toe on the edge, and you were out. That joy of winning your own drawn-out maze still feels better than unlocking any game level on a screen.
The world was simple. Win or lose, we were always ready for another go.

The Tale of Vish-Amrit

Then arrived Vish-Amrit, sounding less like a game and more like a battle between gods. 
You’re Vish, frozen like a statue, waiting for someone to notice. Then your best friend comes charging through the field, dodging players, yelling “AMRIT!” like a hero on a mission. One quick touch, and you’re free again. But as you turn to smile, you see them now Vish, frozen in your place, paying the price for setting you free.

If Vish-Amrit taught us anything, it was how to be loyal, quick, selfless, and why shoes with worn-out soles were a terrible life choice.

Chhupan Chhupai: The Original Thriller

And of course, how could I forget Chhupan Chhupai—the game that made us all feel like spies on a top-secret mission. Forget OTT thrillers—we had real-life suspense playing out in the gali, with hiding spots behind scooters, under stairs and occasionally inside someone’s open gate (sorry aunty, if you’re reading this).

There was something magical about the way daylight slowly melted into twilight as we hid, hearts pounding, hoping our chosen spot would make us invisible.

The seeker, our very own Sherlock in chappals, would recite numbers with fake sincerity and eyes half-open.

There were quiet whispers, small hand signals, and then that exciting moment when we jumped out and shouted “Dhappa!”

Just when we thought we were safe, the seeker shouted something like “Espress!”—or was it “Eye spy”? Maybe “Ice spice”? Who knows. We never questioned it; we just screamed it.

Once, I hid inside a half-broken cardboard box near our neighbour’s verandah. I thought I was a genius until my giggles gave me away.

Statue: Where Time and Kids Stood Still

“Statue” wasn’t just a game. It was a moment frozen in time. Literally!! When someone shouted “Statue!”, we had to freeze like mannequins. No blinking, no moving, no scratching that itchy nose. The person who said “Statue” would try every trick in the book to make us move—funny faces, silly noises, even fake sneezes. We stood stiff, dying inside from laughter.

And if we moved before someone released us? Oh, we knew what was coming—punches. Not one, not two, but as many as our friends felt we deserved.

Sometimes, we lost not because we moved, but because our best friend’s ridiculous pose made us snort out loud.
Standing still was the easy part. Surviving our friends’ comedy attacks without cracking up? Now that was the real challenge.

Some Memories Don’t Grow Old, They Grow Deeper

Today, I watch kids sunk into couches, fingers flicking over glossy screens, eyes glued to characters jumping through digital worlds. They’re playing, sure—but are they really playing? Do they know the joy of playing childhood games like we did.

Sometimes I want to say, “You haven’t lived till you’ve played stapu barefoot on a summer evening.” Or, “You don’t know loyalty until a friend sprints across enemy lines to unfreeze you in Vish-Amrit.” Or, “You haven’t known the thrill of hiding until your breath catches behind a curtain during Chhupan Chhupai.” And oh—“You haven’t truly tested your self-control until someone yells ‘Statue!’

And now, I think I just might say it.

Because maybe they would listen.

And maybe, just maybe, they’d feel it too.

Not in the same way we did, but in their own way.

Some memories aren’t meant to stay locked away.

They’re meant to be lived again—through them.

We played. They will, too.

What games made your childhood unforgettable? Drop it in the comments!

Still missing those days,

Harleen