From the archives

This was written in Dec, 2008, one of my first articles after I started writing. Was cleaning my drives and made me think of my first writing job....

There was a time when a serial on Doordarshan meant the penultimate glory. Family functions were postponed, meal timings were arranged in such a manner that no one missed any minuscule portion of a serial and television became the nation’s favorite pastime which was both addictive and alluring. From the charming Chitrahaar to the humility personified Hum Log, these reel life entities transcended their boundaries and loomed larger than life. The actors were real and wholesome entertaining was given the pride of place. Buniyaad, Fauji, Shanti, Swabhimaan, Dekh Bhai Dekh and Shriman Shrimati were only some of the serials with which people could identify with, chatter about them at impromptu places and relate to them as if they were an extension of their own life. They moved people with their piquant narration, had them in splits over innocuous humor and moved them with the compulsive play of human emotions. It was truly the golden era of Indian Television.

With the advent of cable television Zee took the reigns from DD becoming its legitimate heir, although it did not do such a holistic job, it did manage an enviable task-that of presenting to people the power of change. Serials like Tara, Banegi Apni Baat and Rishtey not only were path breaking but were also hugely successful in breaking stereotypes. They did not limit themselves to pose questions but also demanded answers. Breaking away from the moulds of propriety and chauvinism they played an instrumental role in the coming of age of Indian Television. With an assorted and assiduous range of soaps like Sailaab, Teacher, Campus and Hip Hip Hurray they succeeded in not only retaining viewers but also in attracting new ones. It was a path breaking era and one that explored hitherto virgin territories with finesse.

Circa 2000, entered Ekta kapoor with a magic wand and with her brought a change which would strip Indian Television of its simplicity and naivety. With Star Plus as home ground, she revolutionized television with her unprecedented success and a blitzkrieg to rival that of films. Garish saris and grotesque facial expressions became the order of the day and men became the weaker sex of the small screen. Kyonki, Kahani, Kahin Kissi Roz, Kahin To Hoga brought in TRP’s and money at an unparalleled rate. While the heroines became saintly and god like, vamps became meaner and more menacing. Idealistic Bahus were virgins, voluble and virtuous, capable of enduring inhuman agonies and anguish with a silly smile. It was a phase when Indian television changed forever.

Currently we are in the fourth stage where an alarming 63 channels jostle for attention, Real life Drama, expletives and abuses are all a part of an actor’s ensemble. There is no clear victor and the poor viewer is bereft of choices. Innovation is dead and formula is in. There is no clear winner today, everyone loses! The best entertainment is provided by 24/7 news channels!

Festival Frenzy

As a child I was overtly religious, and I guess to make up for it I never bothered much with either religion or prayer while growing up. Indeed, of late its been fairly extreme in the other direction however one ritual which has been followed is that of Shivratri. I know not if it is out of the memory of someone who introduced me to the ritual observing the day or merely something I do as I’ve always done it, the festival dedicated to the Blue throated God has always been something special. This year was no different and though I had a harrowing first part of the day because of some trivial rubbish, it has actually been an enormously cleansing day, simple, subdued and subtle. Festivals are supposed to be punctuations in the passage of time and life, but they should be so by choice rather than custom or belief. A day when you acknowledge the power of the one above you and abide by it as a testament to your own beliefs rather than others, in a short festivals are celebrations of ourselves and definitely not about deities and even less about token tributes. It’s all about us, as always and that was the fact I enjoy most about Shivratri, its all about me and I revel in that.

Having no TV around (the current one zonked off weeks back and I am determined not to get it repaired) is doing wonders to me and my reading. Finished off many pending books, including Wilbur Smith who gave his latest book when I interviewed him months back and which has been staring at me insolently for quite some time. It also keeps me more tuned in with my work and myself, how many times do I switch on and switch off the Idiot box even when I knew that nothing worthwhile was on! Trying to take a newspaper break but am wondering if that’s stretching things too far…

An agonizing two days and excruciating waits of almost 4 hours on two consecutive days meant that I interviewed Barkha Dutt and Nargis Fakhri. Not a fan of either, the former was all business like and brisk. The latter was surprisingly warm, even postponing her lunch when she saw me waiting and speaking without any airs. Maybe its got to do with her western upbringing but she seemed nice without being condescending and she SO tall, by far the tallest person in that sad and otherwise listless crowd, not to mention, the best looking belle of the ballroom.

After a while

It has been a while I updated a blog and unlike the previous times, I felt no pressure or guilt to write in this space. It's been a laid back January. I didn't work much and even wrote my least articles in two and half years. I didn't read many books and was actually doing nothing but sitting and staring into space... This month though has forced me to be more active and am giving in and going out full throttle again. What is it about a break that rejunevates you so much... Is it the belief that you are going back to your space very soon, is it the fact that you feel that you've earned rest and at what point does it blur the distinction between a break and being plain lazy?

We are doing a food issue this month and I have been eating like a mad hatter day in and day out. My new found chubby cheeks agree and everywhere I go people arent hesitating to point out the face that I look "really" healthy nowadays. Not that I mind a bit of love handles but it sure is a new experience and I'm gradually getting used to it.

This past week, I have discovered the joys of sitcoms again and " The Big Bang Theory" has kept me hooked, I don't know why because except or Penny and Leonard everyone else irritates the hell out of me. Though I mut admit that it has cleverly used every trick in town to its own advantage. And I actually know a person like Sheldon Cooper...he even looks the same....god save us.

Watched the Adjustment Bureau and loved the movie...love which beats fate and does it convincingly!

Busy busy times

This past month has been unexceptionally heavy duty as far as work was concerned. With something to write everyday, I didn't as much update my Facebook status let alone my blog. By my Assistant Editor was away and the crown of thorns was passed on to me. Those who know...know that handling production of any magazine/ newspaper is far worse than the actual writing and this amazing month I had to do both and it was really took a lot from me. Looking back at this entire 26 days, I see nothing but writing and though I don't regret it, it do not make be glad either. Anyways, watched the absolutely fantastic Ruhaniyat this year...the Sufi festival and was enormously happy at the huge turnout...small crowds at great festivals always made me sad but this time it was encouraging.

The crazy work schedule apart, I managed to catch a lot of good things...music, theater et al. The Ash Chandler show was a highlight, he managed to scandalize the proper society ladies of Hyderabad, who turn up everywhere. His adult humor was galling and hilarious to say the least. The open bar was where some others were interested in..the guy sitting in front had 11 pegs of whiskey and still stood straight. The only complaint was that I'm not reading at all these days, bough two books for a steal at the Book Fair but miss that reading day in and day out.

The year ends and it's time for all the silly recaps and redundant round ups....also loved the one line reviews of Don doing the rounds...it's not Don2, it's Yawn 2.

A flash in a pan

That's how this entire month seems like...I cannot remember the last time something went by so quickly (though I always crib to Pt that it does, I mean it this time)I've written a lot today, been writing on and off since morning but somehow wanted to write here too...There is so much going on in my head, about articles to plan for the next month, ways to stop my hair from falling and stop worrying about why I'm not reading or listening to music much these days that I really needed to clear my head and write...keep writing.

I feel so lazy these days...I've always been lazy but the past couple of months I've taken a turn for worse because nothing excites or arouses me from the deep slumber I'm protruding into. Not reading, not doing anything merely planning and wishing that things would move on their own accord, which damningly never does happen.

Met Vidya Balan a couple of days back and man, she is one focused chick. She went to five places during her 10 hour trip to the city and nearly caused a mini- stampede in the mall I met her. I liked her though...she spoke well and didnt seemed to mind that everyone around her asked her the same questions. I hope The Dirty Picture works, always liked Silk Smitha and hope Balan can revel in some borrowed pride. Hell, no one deserves it more!

November blues

November is one of my most hectic months of the year along with May. November is the time for annual issue which basically means double work at the same pay which is certainly not amusing, it also means that I write so much that any more writing elsewhere means sheer fatigue. The irritants apart, it's a month I really love. One of my closest friends has her birthday this month and it brings cheer like very little things do, also it's beautiful in Hyderabad, with the winter just starting out and the concert/ theater season in full swing. A new tradition rather a revival of the old traditions is underfoot, that of performing at some of the best landmarks of the city, the forts, the palaces and the open grounds are brimming back to life and the background they lend to any event is unparalleled. The flip side being the impossibly long distances...but November also brings to forth the barely concealed fact to light that another year is fast slipping by without any significant achievement or change. It is always astonishing that an year has gone by quietly without any fuss whatsoever.

Months are so imbued with characteristics, January is always filled with the warm glow of possibilities where you think you are making this year count. February is thankfully, always short and spent dreading the impending summer. March is depressing always. Mid year for me, April and May are the fussiest with the unbearable heat and work making it a blur. June is cheerful, and brings a lot of hope along..weather wise or other wise. July marks a lull in work and my life begins again for me. August brings the rains and smiles, optimism and laughter, water and warmth. September and October, with their activities and festivities keep one busty. December is a daze often, spent wondering whether anything of value has been accrued for another year. November brings cheer for me, hard work and pleasure coupled...dinners and conversation... Friends and peace and bliss.

To making every day special!

Impressions

As another power cut makes it's presence felt, I think of the last time I met Jagjit Singh. It was this year, around May when I interviewed him. I have been a huge fan of his phenomenal voice and the depth of its melancholy, that he could generate so much pain struck me as an extraordinary gift. Having seen, the masterful " Arth" and losing myself in the two magnificent gems penned by Kaifi Azmi and sung with a pathos which tears your heart apart...all these thoughts were ringing in my head when I hopped and skipped to meet him. We did meet, for once the press conference was on time and I was almost bursting with an inner cheer that I was meeting a person whose voice was great company, one which does not question and whose presence calms you invisibly. When I started interviewing him, my first question was about his style of singing, to which he asked me about Faiz Ahmed Faiz, the great poet about whom I had only scant knowledge. Then he asked me if I knew his body of work, then refusing to answer any questions... all through the interview all I could see was a person who did not match up to the phenomenal gift he was known for- his voice. I came back that day with a sinking feeling in my heart that a person so big can be so small and chided myself for matching a person and his voice.

Needless to say, that put me off his music for I couldnt imagine liking that. A few months back, I was watching Shyam Benegal's magical " Mammo" in which Jagjit Singh made an entry back into my life with his magical " hazaar baar ruke hum...hazaar baar chale hum" This time I kept the voice away from the man and allowed myself to lose my knot of discord in the impenetrable depth of his sorrow which connects instantly with any one looking for a companion. The nature of sorrow is such that it reaches out to other suffering instantly, attracting it like bees to flowers, you identify the feeling and once the connection is established it is as impossible to breakaway from it as it is from your first love. The quality of Jagjit Singh's voice had that uniqueness... of wrapping itself around you, making it's hold around you so breathlessly quixotic yet rendering you unable to move away from it, divine and all consuming.

When Pt messaged me today that he passed away, I felt a pang that I never listened to him live. Impressions are such fallible, things that they stay with you long after you've turned your back away. Today, I am glad that I met some one like him, though not exactly what I wanted happened, he was a real tangible person who showed me that he was just like you and me: human but blessed with one extraordinary power, that of a voice which comes back to you the minute you shut your eyes.