HERE, THERE & ELSEWHERE. Flame wars

For several weeks now, I’ve been watching a TV serial called Scandal on Netflix. I find it so exciting that I spend all my time either getting ready to watch an episode or watching an episode or recovering from what I’ve just seen and, finally, trying to decide whether or not to watch the next episode right away (the answer is usually ‘yes’).

We don’t have a TV, so the only way to watch TV shows, news or movies is on the computer. Needless to say, Bins does not watch what I watch. But technology has its benefits: I have two laptops and many sets of earphones. My wi-fi service provides just enough juice to feed both addictions separately. So while I watch Scandal, Bins scrapes his nerves raw by looking up news shows from India such as what he calls ‘Abuse Night with Aardvark Bore-Swami.’

Sometimes it gets too much for him. Whereupon he leans across the shared work-table and tugs off my earphones. “Listen to what Aardvark said,” he begins today. “STOP DOING THAT!” I snarl, reaching for the cord. But he doesn’t let go. “Don’t watch that rubbish programme,” he tells me. “Just listen to what Aardvark said —” I stuff my fingers in my ears, yelling, “I won’t! I WON’T!’” Unplugging the headphones isn’t an option because the computer’s audio is too meek and mild to drown out Bins at full volume.

“You’re being very childish,” says Bins, pouting. “So are you,” I retort. “You never want to watch the news —” he says. “Scandal is a lot like the news,” I say. “It’s set in Washington and it sort of mirrors real-life scandals in American political circles.” “Pooh!” snorts Bins. “Commercial propaganda JUNK!” “How would you know, when you only watch Indians and Pakistanis roaring on camera?” I say. “At least my programme is about real people and real lives,” says Bins, with a sneer. “Mine’s no different,” I insist, “but with better editing and more attractive bodies.”

“What do you mean? What ‘bodies’?” asks Bins. “Well, it’s about this woman called Olivia Pope —” I begin. “Which ‘Pope’? Is it set in Rome, as well?” says Bins. “The woman’s NAME is ‘Pope’,” I say. “She’s super smart and mega-efficient. She has a way of fixing things. She’s also having an affair with the President —” Bins looks more alert now. “Really? THIS President? Is she black or white?” I clutch my forehead. “Bins, that is a ghastly racist remark — and in fact, she IS black but the President is white and he’s a Republican —”

“Oh-HO!” says Bins grinning broadly. “So it’s about the EARLIER guy? George Wishy-washy? And the black lady with the buck-teeth and the curly-helmet hairstyle —?” “BINS!” I am frankly screaming now. “It’s unacceptable to make remarks like that in today’s world!” He is nodding happily. “I remember her: Condimental Rice,” he says. “Wow. She had an affair with Wishy-Washy? And someone made a programme about it?” I give up. “Stop please,” I say, tiredly. “Go on and tell me what Aardvark’s been up to these days.”

Manjula Padmanabhan , author and artist, writes of her life in the fictional town of Elsewhere, US, in this weekly column

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