I started watching Oswald to stop waiting for his text

Edit: I realised while speaking to my 21 year old cousin that Oswald might not be as popular amongst the Gen-Z as it is for us millennials in our 30s/40s. The titular character is an anthropomorphic blue octopus named Oswald who lives in an apartment complex in Big Town. He loves his friends and he loves playing the piano. That much information should suffice.

This was the episode where Oswald looks for a hobby. I remember enjoying it as an eight-year-old. The visuals are vivid, and the memories feel liminal and recent. I still watch it, well into my thirties, when I’m trying to de-stimulate my mind and stay away from anything that requires me to know the meaning of epistemology.

The introduction is quiet, spaced out, but doesn’t lack imagination. Houses and buildings are shaped like objects of childhood, set against a bright yellow background. Thinking of a boot? That’s a shoe store. A big rainbow sundae? That’s an ice cream parlour. Everything is quite literal, and Oswald’s world is simple.

He has two best friends. Well, we don’t know if he is biased, but that’s an adult emotion fuelled by envy and projection that hasn’t yet plagued an eight-year-old’s mind. So I still believe they’re both his best friends.

Let me walk you through the episode while I wait for my situationship’s text, half-anxious, fully disappointed.

The episode is titled Cloud Collecting. Oswald is out for a walk on a cloudy, windy day, doing the very thing he is brilliant at: observation. One of the most interesting things about the show and its writing is that we never find out how old these homies really are. If they’re adults, it’s incredible how their childlike wonder keeps them going. And if they’re children, well then I’m jealous, because they all own houses.

We know it’s a cloudy day because there are cloud-shaped clouds, and we know it’s windy because we see best friend number one, Daisy, who is also a flower, running after what appears to be a green, flying leaf. She reaches Oswald, they greet each other, and Oswald expresses curiosity about her chase. Daisy introduces him to her hobby of collecting eccentric leaves. She differentiates them by shape. No etymology. No biological names. I find that amusing. Oswald finds that amusing. Daisy is distracted by another leaf, heads off to chase it and, well, leaves. Don’t hate me for that joke. It was right there.

Oswald reaches Henry’s house soon after. Come to think of it, he could have gone out just to attempt a cartwheel. Though we never see him attempt one, so let’s assume he was simply out for a walk with his pet, Winnie, the wisest and orange-est of them all. Best friend number two, Henry, is a penguin who has somehow outwitted the tenets of evolution and lives comfortably in a non-Antarctica-looking land. Henry is very cool, gives major black-cat energy, and I think he’s non-binary. Oswald observes Henry’s appreciation for spoons and is impressed by his meticulously curated collection. Henry hangs them on a sturdy thread, cleans every visible spot, and patiently waits for them to dry. Oswald enquires more, clearly feeling like he needs to get a grip, bids goodbye, and heads back to his apartment, crossing his tomato garden on the way. Remember the snail episode?

Oswald first aired in the United States in the early 2000s and eventually made its way to India in the mid-to-late 2000s, when Nickelodeon expanded across Indian cable networks. This overlap of imported children’s television and a rapidly changing media landscape meant that a specific class of Indian children grew up with remarkably similar cultural references.

India’s economic liberalisation in 1991 opened the door to private and foreign media, breaking Doordarshan’s monopoly and enabling the spread of cable and satellite television. By the late 1990s and early 2000s, international children’s channels like Nickelodeon, Cartoon Network, and Disney entered Indian homes, largely targeting an urban, cable-owning middle class.

Post-liberalisation children’s TV mostly reached English- or Hindi-speaking households with access to cable. That marks a clear class divide. For many middle-class and elite children, cartoons like Oswald or Dora became part of daily emotional life, while large sections of rural, working-class, or marginalised India continued to rely on Doordarshan, radio, or inconsistent media access. Their childhoods were shaped more by labour, caretaking, state schooling, or religious and folk narratives than by global cartoon characters. When we talk about nostalgia for shows like Oswald, we’re often talking about a classed memory, even when it feels universal.

In the episode, Oswald is now confused. What should his hobby be? He wants to feel included. He wants to collect something. As a child, I was convinced that if only I jumped high enough, I could lick a cloud. Oswald thinks along similar lines. Licking a cloud feels too ambitious. So he chooses something more doable: collecting them.

Winnie is ecstatic. Blind leading the blind? No. I call it delusional confidence, and I’m here for it.

Oswald tries to catch clouds using a rope. That doesn’t work. Too much force, and clouds are delicate. He tries climbing a tree. That doesn’t work either. Too little mobility, not enough space for his hands. He then runs to the very recognisable hill and jumps. After a few exhausting attempts, there he is, holding a cloud in his hands.

Oswald and Winnie celebrate, only to realise that clouds are made of gas, and gas doesn’t last. They’re both heartbroken.

But Oswald has two very good best friends. They find him upset and lie beside him on the grass, watching the clouds transform. Some look like leaves, observes Daisy. Some look like spoons, observes Henry.

It becomes a quiet moment of reflection. The realisation that clouds can be magical without being collected, especially when you’re lying beside your friends and your hotdog shaped dog.

End of episode. I close the tab, take a deep breath and check my phone. No text.

You know, two men shifted the economic landscape of India (RIP) and this one man can’t even ask me if I'm okay. Honestly, I’d rather collect some clouds.

Little brother and I

Love,

K