You remember the moment. The fan slows down, the lights go out and the whole street groans at once. Then someone finds the candles, someone else finds the Ludo board, and the evening turns into something better.
Chor-Police by candlelight
All you need is four people and four scraps of paper. Write Raja, Mantri, Chor and Police, fold them, toss them on the floor and grab one each. The Raja reveals himself, the Police has to work out who the Chor is, and the scores go on a scrap of paper that nobody can ever find again.
Every house played for different points. Wikipedia's version has Raja 1000, Mantri 500, Sipahi 100 and Chor 0, with the Mantri hunting the thief. In ours the Raja keeps 1000, the Mantri 800, the Police 500 and the Chor nothing, unless the Police guesses wrong.
Ludo, and its other side
The folding board did double duty: Ludo on one side, Snakes and Ladders on the other. Ludo meant alliances, betrayals and the eternal fight over whether a six gives you another roll. Snakes and Ladders was pure luck, which is exactly why little brothers loved it. Ludo reached England as a boxed game in the 1890s, and snakes and ladders grew out of older Indian dice games. In our houses, they both grew out of the cupboard.
Carrom, when the lights came back
A carrom board was too precious for candlelight, so it waited. When the power came back, the board came out, the powder went on, and the argument about whether the queen was covered lasted until dinner.
Play them again
They're all here, with the house rules you remember: Chor Police, Ludo, Snakes and Ladders and Para Club Carrom. Play against the computer, pass one phone around, or send a link to the cousins who used to sit across the board, even if they're in London or New York now.
No candles needed.