The Hindu Business Line : Merits of meditation during primetime

But you would agree that mass madness is not a thing of the past, because everyday thousands, if not millions, of couch potatoes sit and watch crazy soaps on the small screen. Themes are so stereotyped that you can codify them. Storylines go on predictable sequence, and though faces may be new, tale is the same. Such as a love triangle, rich versus poor, mother-in-law and bahu, cop and thief, crime and vengeance, ghosts and gory deaths, and so forth.

Some big names from moviedom are into serial-making but they are also too tired, so they are going nuts. One daddy, two mummy, or vice versa, is nothing new, so one story talks of two daddies, one child. Hey, you laugh, how's that possible? Are we talking about some leased-out gene, when scientists have successfully created a fatherless mouse?

No, the trick is to give the daughter in adoption, and then weave the story in such a way that viewers are face-to-face with a near-incest. Shame, shame, you cry, but the story unfolds slowly, oh, slowly, night after night, even as real daddies return from a hard day's labour but real mummies are glued to the telly, and so unable to get dinner to the table.

It was not long ago that Geetha, a colleague of mine wrote, in an article titled "Humour, at what cost?" about how characters in the serial used offensive words just like that. "Tamil soaps aired on television seem to be far from being family entertainers with absolutely no relevance to values and ethics." Thus, for instance, you may not be able to call your neighbour `bast***' without risking a few teeth, but when a forward-thinking self-made woman in the serial chooses the epithet as part of her limited vocabulary, you can't be faulted for remotely raising the TV's volume.

It is all the more worrying when channels claim a large footprint that crosses borders. Instead, they can show episodes with maharajahs, snake-charmers, and wandering buffaloes, because that's how the world views India.

That a whole population can be mesmerised into hypnotic messages was evident a few days ago, not in living rooms during primetime, but on the streets and in jewelleries. An auspicious day on which if you had bought gold, your wealth would multiply faster than fixed deposit interest rate and perhaps even outstrip inflation.

So, shopkeepers went in hyper mode on Wednesday night, cops patrolled the streets, and at last the sun rose on that special morning, signalling a long day that lay in front of hassled shop assistants in all those jazzed-up outlets. Many temporary hands were hired, inveterate shoplifters had a field day, metal quality was the last thing that was questioned, gifts were showered without asking, and money changed hands faster than currency counters could work. It is rumoured that this phenomenon is of recent origin after a pontiff opined one fine morning about the significance of this day. And that should give industry bodies a clue as to how they can energise whole industries that are in the dumps.

To conclude, here is a wicked thought: If only we could get an influential religious head to speak on how one can achieve longevity by doing silent meditation during primetime...

E&OE@thehindu.co.in

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