(14 Feb ‘10)
I’ve never been a
television buff. Nothing to do with quality of programs, it’s just that
whenever I see moving images on a flickering screen, I fall asleep. Perhaps in
the medical lexicon there’s a term for this condition. Maybe rare, because
there is a very large majority that doesn’t suffer from this affliction. I say
affliction because I suffer: imagine me sitting in a ‘hall’ in someone’s flat
where the tv is on. Everyone’s either watching the news or a bit of soap, and
me… I’m fighting drooping eyelids. I’m neither bored nor tired. Just full of
sleep. No one understands and certainly no one listens to my explanations.
Over the years,
thanks to a husband who loves the news, I got used to seeing who’s being
killed, arrested, raped, murdered, abused, taped, bombed, bribed in different
parts of the country. Occasionally, also saw awards, trophies, prizes to filmstars,
sportspersons, filmstars, filmstars again and even more filmstars.
I seem to be amongst
the very, very few amongst those I know who is a fan of Doordarshan. I actually
get to see the status of crops, hear some real music, listen to scientists,
writers speak in an hurried way by anchors who aren’t out to bully or badger
the invitees. Sure, the technology and appearance is not as sophisticated, but
it makes up in content quite often. When I tune in to We The People, I wonder
why the audience is always in tune with Barkha Dutt. I’ve never seen a majority
voting for something she doesn’t agree with. Intentional? Definitely. Well
chosen friends’ friends’ friends, no doubt. Ok, one doubt: maybe they’re paid.
Cynical? Yes, many of the channels have made me so.
Of the so many
channels my remote controls, I see four or five. Watching television is a
recent activity in my life. Activity or passivity… whatever. I’m into Marathi
soaps these days. I like the titles and the advertisements. About the former,
my favourites are Mazha Kunku, Kulvadhu, Jis Desh Mein Nikla Chand (hope I’ve
got this right, it’s such a forgettable line), and then there are the Bahoo
series. It’s a wonder no one’s started a spelling war on that word: Bahu,
Bbahu, Bbahoo, Bahhu, Bahhoo, etc. It’s something to do with numbers and luck,
I’m told, the number of alphabets and which ones, in a name. I’ve been trying
it out with my name: Sshila, Ssheela, Shheela, Sheellaa. I use a spelling a
day, no way Lady Luck is getting attracted. Perhaps I should change it
completely. To something from the other side of the planet: Zoe, Zzorra, Cipi,
Lie, … Americans are so innovative; we have boring names like
Subbulakshmivedashankaradharini-durga which these days gets shortened to the
most interesting syllable: Bul. I believe that the advent of western ads has
changed more habits than just changing of names.
I’ve seen on staid
Marathi soaps that Dad and Mom is what the young call their parents, especially
if they’re going astray. Nothing’s really changed from the Hindi fillums of the
‘sixties and now. The good daughters wear salwar kameezes and the good sons
shave every day. The villains have a stubble (ok, some heroes sport them, too,
but shave at some time in the film or serial, the villains never do), the bad
girls wear stilettos and walk silly.
What I really like
about the serials I’ve begun to watch with some regularity is the way they
don’t let you forget what you’ve seen before. In case you’ve missed something,
you can catch up. If you’ve seen it before, you’re likely to remember it for
the rest of your life. I believe academicians can learn much from these
techniques. Show the same shot, the same dialogue, shove it down the throat
until it’s absorbed at cellular level. If I can remember why someone in a
pathetic crumpled sari is weeping and bemoaning her fate without skipping a
word or syllable, I can’t see why I won’t be able to remember formulae and
tables if they were/are shown as frequently.
Indeed, I’ve got the idea which
will make my fortune. I’m going to tie up with a financer and start up homework
serials: Who’s Afraid Of Teacher Math. What Akbar And Humayun Really Thought Of
Indira Gandhi, Mayawati Bhi Kabhi MP Thi, How English Now Konkani (titles that
don’t make sense are super hits, they say), When Raindrops Become Dam Water,
Why Raindrops Can’t Become Damn Water, Corn Banega Kadipatta, etc.
You remember those
UGC programs? They were boring. They had boring names, boring themes. We need
to get modern, update our methods, study these superhit soaps to see how we can
make school-n-college lessons popular.
If only I could
stay awake long enough to figure them out.
@@@@@
No comments:
Post a Comment