Dead and live

Television had, dutifully, mirrored the times. Real times. As political incertitude seesawed India from one crisis to another, current affairs on television came into its own. No confidence motions in Parliament and an ever so eminently forgettable three-day debate on the country’s future, were telecast live; violent scenes in the UP Assembly were telecast throughout the world; and innumerable interviews with the Prime Minister, were telecast on every channel. Each political pronouncement had a sound byte, each political move an impact on TV’s Richter scale. We heard Gowda fumble and Moopanar mumble; we saw Kesri (not PV) pout and politicians shout. And we saw 10 Janpath more often than its inmate, Sonia Gandhi.

So is television poised to play a significant role in the future of politics. Look at 1997: STAR News is the most popular programme on STAR Plus; TVi reinvents itself as a current affairs channel (and so might El TV next year); Sony, which had so far withstood the lure of politics, succumbs with plans for news/current affairs shows in 1998; BBC begins its own Indian specific political show, Question Time, and the Election Commission wants political parties to use television as a conveyor belt of their ideas during the poll campaign. All an acknowledgement of television power (as opposed to Girl Power and Visa power).

More than that, it’s a confirmation that television is not simply an entertainer (horrible word!) but a conduit between viewers and real events. Take the death of a Princess: never before have so many millions in so many corners of the earth, so collectively and simultaneously, mourned the passing of one individual. This was a TV event, if ever there was one. The single rose on Diana’s coffin, the thousands (maybe even millions) of flowers outside Buckingham Palace and her residence, repeatedly shown on TV, moved the earth like a quake, its people to tears (or hysteria). And Elton John’s, Candle in the Wind, became the highest selling song of all time after he sang it at Diana’s televised funeral. That’s the power of television.

Music. From Elton John to the Channel V Awards and the bikini brief appearance of the Spice Girls in Delhi, to Asha Bhonsle, Raageshwari, A.R. Rehman.. from more film song countdown shows than you can count, to the cult of Haryanvi Humour with Udham Singh, Pankaj Kapoor and Satish Kaushik. Music. Television. Here to stay.

It was, perhaps, fitting then, that A.R.Rehman singing Ma Thujhe Salaam, made your heart beat for India on the night of August 14,1997. Indeed, this song, more than anything else, was television’s most moving tribute to India’s 50th year of Independence. That honour should have been Lata Mangeshkar’s but her rendition of Mere Watan Ke Logon, that night, was less than winsome.

The year should have belonged to a celebration of the last 50 years. DD1 introduced serials based on the freedom struggle, led by Farz, and Mein Dilli Hoon and there was Gaatha on STAR Plus, Naya Daur on Zee. But there’s no soul in them, none of the blood, sweat and tears we know were shed. Only Pamela Rooks film, A Train to Pakistan (STAR Plus) had an emotional and dramatic remembrance of things past; only BBC did India proud with its Dynasty, its two-minute noodles of history and its series of Hard Talk interviews.

The dream merchants had an off year. There were new serials, some promising departures from stereotypes, but there wasn’t a `must watch’ signboard, anywhere. If anything, films and film-song-based shows tightened their grip on our imagination; a stranglehold only, occasionally, loosened by a bouncer from cricket.

1998. Films, sports and politics. Unless, there’s another queen, king, prince or indeed, princess of hearts.