The Multifaceted Idiot Box

Ok, I don’t know how Television earned the sobriquet of an Idiot Box. How can something as entertaining as our beloved TV be called an Idiot Box? Since I am a very inquisitive person, I resorted to Google to find the answer to this question, just like any aam person. I did not find any anecdote or incident from the past, from which this term might have evolved. But I came across certain articles and discussions which said that it is not the television, but the television viewers who are called idiots. This is because people are glued to television for most hours of the day. I think this term ‘Idiot Box’ is generalized, without considering the quality of content which people watch on television. How disparaging is that!

The face of television has changed over the years, from generation to generation. Television has always been an ultimate, daily source of entertainment since my childhood, unlike my parents’ generation who thrived on Sunday special shows like Ramanand Sagar’s Ramayan and Mahabharat or the famous first soap opera of Indian Television Hum Log. People did not know TV channels other than Doordarshan, till Zee TV was launched in 1992.

I grew up watching some really enjoyable shows like Hum Paanch, Family No. 1, Hum Sab Ek Hain, Yeh Duniya Hai Rangeen, Shriman Shrimati and many more. These light-hearted, evergreen mirthful shows, without even a pinch of vulgarity, always served the main purpose for which people watch television: Entertainment. Shortly later began the burgeoning dominance of the powerful ‘K’, from which the popular term ‘saas-bahu’ was carved out. Many other shows followed suit and joined the league of daily soaps, having more or less the same line of story. Sometimes I feel that these daily soaps steal the entertainment part of television, making it dull and monotonous. Nowadays some daily soaps are broadcasted even on weekends in the form of ‘Maha-episodes’, not giving the audience a much-needed relief from the tiring 5-day monotony.

Family drama is the archetype of Indian Television. Joint family system is the paradigm of Indian culture, which is becoming a rare picture these days. Thanks to daily soaps, we can still see joint families. We also enjoy the diversity of our country in the form of religions, festivals and dressing styles of various states.  On the other hand, I also believe that the present daily soaps impugn the concept of joint family, because larger the family, higher the number of conspiracies planned against the daughter-in-law. Then as expected, the daughter-in-law boldly faces the challenges put forth and wins hearts of other family members as well. Extra-marital affairs and false accusations and suspicions are also common in daily soaps. All this gets predictable in every other show. What I find most objectionable are the extreme steps the jealous family members or mothers-in-law take, to get rid of the daughter-in-law. In one of the Marathi serials which I watched by accident, every episode showed new and heinous ways to kill the daughter-in-law, as though it were a recipe book of ‘How to kill daughters-in-law’. The shocking fact is that such serials are popular and top the TRP list! I pity the viewers with such sordid tastes.  Such programmes should be condemned which portray women as victims of violence and injustice. Don’t the producers or channels think about the societal impact of such violent content? Many a times in the newspapers we read viewers expressing contempt against serials which send a wrong message to society. When people return home from their hectic jobs, they expect to see something cheerful, something which can efface their worries and tensions. But what we watch are the internecine plots or the week long funerals or mourning over the death one of the characters. Reality shows, too, are less real and more surreal.

The new wave of shows, which emphasize on prevalent social problems like child marriage or female infanticide, are laudable attempts to make people aware of the gruesome realities which still exist in our country. Shows like Halla Bol, Webbed, Crime Patrol, Satyameva Jayate deal with other issues which our country faces. I believe such shows prove that television is an excellent source to create awareness among the masses and channelize their thinking in the correct direction. Innovative international adaptations like 24 that keep the audiences tied to their seats have given Indian television a new perspective. Comedy shows like Comedy Nights with Kapil, Taarak Mehta ka Ooltah Chashma, Sarabhai v/s Sarabhai have gained popularity for they never fail to make the viewers laugh and thus truly understand the meaning of ‘humour’, unlike some programmes which narrate bawdy jokes, making them unfit to watch with family. Even today, Sarabhai v/s Sarabhai remains one of my favourite comedy serials and I watch it when I want to have continuous fits of laughter. Another commendable initiative which I found recently on television was the launch of a nascent channel which broadcasts critically acclaimed shows of our neighbouring country. I view it as an opportunity to understand the culture and lifestyle of that nation and the rich and mellifluous  usage of Hindi, besides the veritable content of the serials.

I am also a fan of English shows like F.R.I.E.N.D.S, Suits, House of Cards, True Detective etc. What I encounter in these serials is that they never squander a single minute in the entire 20-minute or 40-minute episode showing something which is irrelevant to the main plot of the show, obviously maintaining the quality of the show. They make sure to pique viewers’ curiosity in every episode. Indian serials turn to such irrelevancy frequently in order to constantly remain on the top of the TRP list, thus making the programme insipid. Such serials eventually lose their viewership as well. I find concept of ‘seasons’ in English programmes a very sensible one because it is purely based upon the viewers’ response to the show. People look forward to watch the recurring seasons of crème de la crème shows like Suits and House of Cards. Each season has something promising to offer to the audience.

We know the proverb “A man is known by the company he keeps”. Similarly television is a helpless inanimate box who receives flak or praise depending upon the content which it broadcasts. It is the responsibility of the channels and producers to respect the viewers’ expectation from the shows. At the same time they should also keep in mind that television is a powerful form of mass media, existing in every household. It is capable of influencing the minds of millions and therefore a careful thought must be put into, before presenting a show to its prospective viewers.

A Wedding to Remember

Weddings are one of the most jocund social gatherings in every culture and religion. They are excellent occasions to be with our loved ones and friends, whom we cannot meet often due to our demanding schedules. Weddings are not only a set of age-old rituals but they also mark an auspicious new beginning for the couple who embark upon a new journey with each other, understanding each other and promising to be for and with each other always “in sickness and in health.” In India, weddings are epitomes of great pomp and enthusiasm. No expense is spared, as it is in most cases, ‘once in a lifetime occasion’ for the bride and the groom. Food is the USP of any wedding. As rightly said in the movie Band Baaja Baaraat, “Logo ko shaadi ki kaunsi cheez sabse jyada yaad rehti hai? Woh hai Khaana!” I acquiesce with that dialogue. Even today I remember certain weddings because of the diverse cuisines served and the fun I had with my cousins.

On 2^nd July 2014 it was officially the first day of the much-awaited monsoon, after a humid weather and dry spell in June. On that fateful day I was about to attend a wedding reception. But thanks to the inefficiency of the local trains, I could not make it to the wedding. As it was my yet another long and tiring vacation, I decided to accompany my mother and aunt to one of my cousins’ wedding reception, with an anticipation to meet my other beloved cousin after many days. We decided to travel by the ‘lifeline’ of Mumbai, the local trains, as the reception was in Matunga. We reached the railway station and found throngs of people stranded on the platform as one of the previous trains had to be vacated due to technical faults. Now I feel that probably it was the first sign that we should not have proceeded any further. But I also believe, that whatever is written in our fate happens, no matter how much we try to avoid it. Within the next few minutes, a Dadar local arrived and as usual the cut-throat struggle to board the train started. Normally I avoid such overcrowded trains and prefer travelling comfortably with moderately crowded trains. My sister often taunts me by saying that in a city like Mumbai, I will have to wait forever on the platform with a hope of travelling comfortably, given the hordes of people who travel every hour, minute and second. Keeping that in mind, I boarded the jam-packed train quite reluctantly. Getting successfully into a crowded local train of Mumbai is no less of an achievement than reaching the summit of Mount Everest or winning a savage battle.

The sight in the train was chaotic; window seats smeared with rain water, water gushing inside the train through the open doors, women getting annoyed by it and shouting to each other to shut the doors, and so on. Somehow I managed to get a seat in this bedlam. The journey was quite smooth till Vikhroli, of course with frequent halts. After the train left Vikhroli, our train came to a deadly halt. The women passengers started getting restless and were trying to find the reason of this sudden halt. In the meantime, my uncle, who was travelling by another train with my aunt, called my mother and informed us that a gutter had burst in Ghatkopar and therefore slow trains could not go further. There were 3-4 halted trains ahead of ours.

After a long wait, people started getting down on the tracks and started walking to the nearest railway station. Some women in my compartment started imprecating the authorities for not undertaking the timely cleaning of drainage systems and the folly of railways. There is no dearth of vexatious co-passengers even in such situations. An old lady, who was sitting opposite to us, started blabbering all nonsensical possibilities and ideas, thus aggravating the situation. I felt like yelling at her to keep her foolish ideas to herself and do us a favour by staying quiet. But I found it difficult to break my ‘code of conduct’ even in that situation. Gradually most women started to get down on the tracks after realizing that there was no possibility of the trains to move ahead.

Finally, after a long wait of an hour and a half, even we had to take a tough decision to walk on the tracks and reach Vikhroli station, from where we decided to head back home. But before that, a big task lay ahead of us. Getting out of the train with the help of the ‘invisible’ ladder attached to it was an ‘adventure’ I had never tried in my life before. I shuddered at that thought. While we stood at the door, my mother asked two men who were walking on the track, to help us get out of the train. And as if those men were Gods in disguise, they helped each woman to get safely out of the train. I had great difficulty getting down though, as I was not able to see the ladder at all and was pretty skeptical about my safe ‘landing’. Those two men and many people like them demonstrated the spirit of Mumbai, who are always ready to help in times of difficulties. After that, began our ordeal of half an hour of walking on the railway tracks to reach Vikhroli station. I never have had the experience of walking on the railway tracks, but as they say, “there is first time for everything”. With each step, I remembered God like never before. I prayed for us to reach safely to the station. With every passing train on the opposite tracks, I remembered the grisly denouement of Final Destination 2, wherein the girl who has premonitions ultimately dies on the railway tracks. The thirty minute walk seemed like an eternity. Never had I longed to see anything in my life than I longed to get a view of Vikhroli station. Thus we finally reached Vikhroli station, praying and cursing our fate and authorities. It was very thoughtful of my aunt to carry a small pack of biscuits and a few chocolates from home, which gave us a respite from hunger. While we waited for our train, another train halted on the opposite track, from which a few boys jumped with huge boxes in their hand. Some could easily cross the tracks and get on our platform. But one boy was taking longer to accomplish this risky adventure. In the meantime, the train for which we were waiting for was arriving. Seeing the boy struggle to get on the platform and fast approaching train, my aunt shrieked quite sure of his death. As though the boy’s Judgment Day had not come, he managed to hop on the platform. This terrible scene again reminded me of  the Final Destination series.

When I got into the train, I felt I could empathize with the persons of the show Banged Up Abroad, who get the taste of freedom and life after spending years in a prison. Those few troublesome hours reminded me of my school essay ‘The Day when everything went wrong’ and similar to that essay, I prayed to God to let the rest of the day pass peacefully. Since past one and a half months, I was constantly grumbling about my long tedious vacation and staying within the four walls of home feeling stagnant. But I felt homesick within those few hours. Perhaps that day’s ordeal was God’s way of teaching me to be grateful in whatever he gives us, be it pain or pleasure. At the same time he also showed me the path of safety and kept me away from witnessing someone’s horrible death. Finally we reached our intended station and devoured something in a nearby restaurant as we were famished. We were yet to cross another hurdle: Finding an auto to take us home. During such challenging times, these evil rickshaw drivers want to prove their importance by declining the requested destinations of troubled passengers. After getting a flat ‘No’ from a number of rickshaw-wallahs, we managed to find an auto. And so we finally reached our Home sweet Home. After washing ourselves thoroughly off with the experienced unhygienic conditions, we lay down to get some rest. 

As I rested, I realized that of all the weddings I attended, this never-attended wedding would be a memorable one. Though this one I did not enjoy in real terms, it me taught me lessons of patience, composure and sagacious decision making even in the most difficult and never-experienced-before situations. I braced myself to face such situations which are ubiquitous in overpopulated cities like Mumbai, especially during rains. I had once heard someone say that a person, who can survive in Mumbai, can survive boldly in any part of the world. Well, this wedding episode surely taught me one of the lessons of survival in this tough world and that life cannot forever be a bed of roses, but at times, also of prickly thorns.