All the Yashraj films are to be blamed for this particular post that you have to read. Born in late 1980’s my childhood and adolescence was heavily fed on these romantic films. They not only formed strong image of ideal better half, without whom your life is incomplete but also defined symptoms of falling in love and aftermaths of a break-up. From Chandni (1989) till Veer-Zaara (2004) almost all films contributed heavily in formation of my ideologies of love, life and lust (read as the mushy, lovely-dovey cuddles and hugs, sex was alien to them). So over a period of time, I kept on Falling in Love again and again, in the Yashraj style.
I eagerly waited for my college life to start, as all his love stories normally take place when the lead characters start going to college (or minimum qualification required is 10+2). It gives college a mystic image, as if the moment I set my feet in, guys will go down on their keens, propose me and my love story will kick-start. Unfortunately Som-Lalit College of Commerce did not provide lot of Rahuls around. I did research, calculations and planning, but nothing worked and I started panicking as time slipped out of my hands. I was yet to find my Mr. Right.
All this while, when I felt disheartened, I remembered the evergreen Yashraj mantra, “Someone, somewhere is made for you…” and reviving my spirits I would get back to my ‘Boyfriend’ hunt. And than it happened, winds started blowing, hairs started flowing, violins were playing and I met him. First eyes met, then we and I thought even our hearts met. In typical Yashraj style, three to four love songs played in background and my chiffon dupatta was flowing all over the campus. Normally after the song and dance sequence, guy proposes, but here there were no signs of him proposing me. I waited, one week and then two, finally I gave up and said, I Love You. He looked at me and said,” Sorry Dude, I don’t know you.” Ahhhh… My heart broke into thousand pieces.
I was a bit confused as no Yashraj film ever talks about heart breaks at such an initial stage (read as love story ends before the title credits begin). I thought I will get more chances. On the very next turn, I bumped into a geek. Actually geek will be a wrong term, as he was pathetic in studies; the only thing god gifted him was good looks and a golden heart. During one of the college functions, he was dressed in all white, white shoes, white trousers, white belt and a white shirt. I thought Chopra uncle himself was hinting that this is the one. What if he is not on white horse, he himself has turned into MAN IN WHITE. The violin sequence happened again and I started floating in the air.
I was careful with duets this time and thought one thing at a time. We started exchanging text messages and graduated onto hour long phone calls. With each day passing, I knew he is the one, my Rahul! And one fine day, in another desperate attempt, I proposed. This time the weather was to be blamed. It was raining and the romantic soul within me jumped out at said, “Will you be my date?” It took me 3 days to make him understand what a date meant, on fourth day he understood the concept and rejected my proposal.
With yet another broken heart I pledged this time, no more romantic Yashraj. Though I had started hating Yashrajs by now for floating myth of perfect love stories in our main stream cinema, each time I met ‘eligible’ (anything that remotely resembled MALE species of homo-sapiens) match, Yashrajs took over my sensibilities. One after the other, rejections kept on streaming in. A long distance online relationship came to an abrupt end when he saw my snap (at times I have that kind of effect on people), the college rock-star resurfaced and rejected me three more times, a library crush, a canteen crush, and an office crush, everyone politely but firmly kept on rejecting me.
2000s interestingly started showcasing looser supporting characters in Hindi movies which now got all my sympathies. The guy would be shown heartbroken after he proposes a girl (or ‘N’ number of girls). From the main lead to this supporting character, my life seemed to be on a slide. I never understood why movies never portrayed ‘girls’ who were rejected ‘n’ number of times and celebrated their single status? If not motivational, it could atleast have served as caution sign.
Today I am on the verge of completing my masters, economically I am independent and have a promising career to look forward to and yet the desire to be loved and belonged by a man is not quenching. We are so heavily fed on the notion of ‘perfect love’ that without a partner our life seems incomplete. All the guys by whom I have been rejected, till date are my close friends. Yet an illusionary void of not belonging to someone special can be felt. I hope someday, we will have better cinema to feed on which makes us independent individuals rather than creating unsatisfied longing for ‘perfect life-partner’.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
Television - The Intelligent Idiot Box
As a kid, I was always scolded for watching too many television serials. My uncle (Praharsh Mama) always said, “Do a Ph.D. in serials and movies as that is the only thing that holds your interest!” He might not have known then that his words will come true some day in future. Though not a Ph.D., I did my Master’s thesis on Indian Television Soap Operas.
Television has always been seen as an ‘instrument for entertainment’. It is used to amuse and entertain people in their idle time or to kill their boredom. Most of the English teachers in primary schools are obsessed with essays on ‘Television: An Idiot box’. Almost every year students give identical rhetoric speeches on same topic in elocution competitions and debates and keep on proving television as an Idiot Box. Thus, from a very small age, we solidify the notions of watching television as a trivial activity which is used to kill time or for pleasure and very rarely to get information (through 24 hours running news channels or National Geography and Discovery channels).
Is watching television only limited till the above stated notions developed in us from a young age? As a matter of fact, television industry is a highly profitable industry. It not only generates employment in creative sector, like writing, acting, directing but also in technical and financial sectors. Qualified engineers are recruited to develop and circulate new and latest technologies such as Direct to Home (DTH) services, inventing new and better television sets for a better television watching experience, technical assistance in producing television programmes, telecasting them and so on. Thus television also plays an important role in economic development of any country.
Not only economical, but television can also cause major political repercussions. Arvind Rajgopal in his book, ‘Politics After Television’, analysis the emergence of one of the strongest political parties and the development of Hindutva movement in India. He says, “In January 1987, the Indian state-run television began broadcasting a Hindu epic in serial form, The Ramayana, to nationwide audiences, violating a decade-old taboo on religious partisanship. What resulted was the largest political campaign in post-independence times, around the symbol of Lord Ram, led by Hindu nationalists. The complexion of Indian politics was irrevocably changed thereafter.” He further adds, “While audiences may have thought they were harking back to an epic golden age, Hindu nationalist leaders were embracing the prospects of neoliberalism and globalisation. Television was the device that hinged these movements together, symbolising the new possibilities of politics, at once more inclusive and authoritarian.” Studies like these establish that watching television is after all not as trivial an activity as it seems to be. It can influence ideologies of masses which can result into great political moments.
My thesis does not get deeper into the above mentioned aspects of television viewing; rather it concentrates on a different yet very powerful domain which is highly affected by the television viewing patterns of the masses, the ‘Cultural Aspect’. Many theoreticians and academicians in west as well as in our own country have pointed out towards the effects of television programmes on endorsing or creating new cultural paradigms. My thesis will try and explore the cultural connotations derived from the soap operas and how it then adds on to being an important part of our own cultural. It somewhere constantly keeps on redefining the term -‘Indian Culture’.
This thesis is a small attempt to understand this phenomenon by analysing the popular television serial ‘Balika Vadhu- Kachi Umra Ke Pakke Rishte’. The serial is broadcasted on Colors Television in India and abroad. The serial has maintained high TRP ratings from the time it has been launched, not only that, it even changed the blue print of Indian soap operas. Hence, this series has been taken as the case study and will be thematically analysed to understand why it became instantly popular with its audience and how it defines Indian Culture.
Television has always been seen as an ‘instrument for entertainment’. It is used to amuse and entertain people in their idle time or to kill their boredom. Most of the English teachers in primary schools are obsessed with essays on ‘Television: An Idiot box’. Almost every year students give identical rhetoric speeches on same topic in elocution competitions and debates and keep on proving television as an Idiot Box. Thus, from a very small age, we solidify the notions of watching television as a trivial activity which is used to kill time or for pleasure and very rarely to get information (through 24 hours running news channels or National Geography and Discovery channels).
Is watching television only limited till the above stated notions developed in us from a young age? As a matter of fact, television industry is a highly profitable industry. It not only generates employment in creative sector, like writing, acting, directing but also in technical and financial sectors. Qualified engineers are recruited to develop and circulate new and latest technologies such as Direct to Home (DTH) services, inventing new and better television sets for a better television watching experience, technical assistance in producing television programmes, telecasting them and so on. Thus television also plays an important role in economic development of any country.
Not only economical, but television can also cause major political repercussions. Arvind Rajgopal in his book, ‘Politics After Television’, analysis the emergence of one of the strongest political parties and the development of Hindutva movement in India. He says, “In January 1987, the Indian state-run television began broadcasting a Hindu epic in serial form, The Ramayana, to nationwide audiences, violating a decade-old taboo on religious partisanship. What resulted was the largest political campaign in post-independence times, around the symbol of Lord Ram, led by Hindu nationalists. The complexion of Indian politics was irrevocably changed thereafter.” He further adds, “While audiences may have thought they were harking back to an epic golden age, Hindu nationalist leaders were embracing the prospects of neoliberalism and globalisation. Television was the device that hinged these movements together, symbolising the new possibilities of politics, at once more inclusive and authoritarian.” Studies like these establish that watching television is after all not as trivial an activity as it seems to be. It can influence ideologies of masses which can result into great political moments.
My thesis does not get deeper into the above mentioned aspects of television viewing; rather it concentrates on a different yet very powerful domain which is highly affected by the television viewing patterns of the masses, the ‘Cultural Aspect’. Many theoreticians and academicians in west as well as in our own country have pointed out towards the effects of television programmes on endorsing or creating new cultural paradigms. My thesis will try and explore the cultural connotations derived from the soap operas and how it then adds on to being an important part of our own cultural. It somewhere constantly keeps on redefining the term -‘Indian Culture’.
This thesis is a small attempt to understand this phenomenon by analysing the popular television serial ‘Balika Vadhu- Kachi Umra Ke Pakke Rishte’. The serial is broadcasted on Colors Television in India and abroad. The serial has maintained high TRP ratings from the time it has been launched, not only that, it even changed the blue print of Indian soap operas. Hence, this series has been taken as the case study and will be thematically analysed to understand why it became instantly popular with its audience and how it defines Indian Culture.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Happy Father's Day Papa
6th May, 2010, early morning, I try to open my eyes and gather faint memories of the previous night. Ah… I still am in Chennai. I look around and hear someone taking a bath in Gujarat Bhawan’s small room where we had checked in a few days back. It brings smile on my face as I know he is still there, and I am not alone. We got ready in the usual monotonous way. He followed his daily morning schedule and brought some coffee and breakfast. All this while he kept on repeating list of things that I should be doing when he is not around.
Since yesterday morning he had been instructing me on how to live alone in a new place, a new city, a new state and a new culture. He was not the only one; my cell phone had been beeping since the time I woke up. My two ears were devoted to two different people, one who seemed worried about how I will manage next one month all on my own in an unknown surrounding. The other was also worried up to a certain extent, but about my frantic mood swings and what was held for him in the coming month.
With a bag pack on my back, a big suitcase in one hand and a cell phone in the other, reading and replying to the stream of messages, I followed him. We hired an auto, bargained over the money demanded, finally gave in, and started our journey. Chennai Central was not that far and I knew that all the last minute instructions were being repeated by him. I was more interested in knowing what was in store for the next month and was busy texting.
All of a sudden I heard something and it was not the regular monologue. He snapped, “Constantly over this phone of yours, are you even listening to what I have to say? You keep on talking with people who don’t value your time or your presence. Having friends is nice, but being obsessed about them is not good.” I was still grappling to understand the connotative meaning behind these lines. But anyway, there was a more interesting conversation going on, on the other end. My mind ordered both my ears and eyes to concentrate on messages and continue texting.
We had reached Chennai Central. His train to Ahmedabad was about to leave in half an hour. I bid a hurried good-bye as I was upset with him for scolding me since morning. May be I was just trying to divert my emotions from the fear of being alone to that of anger. I started walking with the crowd, pretending to be lost among hundred others. Did I see him properly for the last time? “Grrrr… ok, muster some courage and turn around, turn before it is too late”, I thought, though had lost all hopes of seeing him there.
I was sure that by this time he would have crossed the sub-way and might have reached on the other side of the road, and yet I turned, and to my surprise or somewhere deep down I knew, that he would be there. Like a child, who is about to lose his precious gift, he was looking at me, walking through the crowd. He made me realize that however hard I will try merging in crowds his caring and protecting eyes will always identify me. He made me feel warm, secure and protected. The feeling of SOON HE WILL BE GONE dawned upon me, and I ran… ran back towards him. All I could manage was, “Papa, have a safe journey, call me once your train departs, do not forget those mendu-vadas at Vijayvada and don’t worry I’ll be good.” He smiled and said bye. Few other silent moments followed, I asked him to leave and he said, “you leave I’ll go once you reach the bus stand”. I said “Bye, papa”, and walked away from him, but it seemed like I was getting more close to him.
Water droplets seemed to be rolling down my face but it was not raining. A stream of tears was flowing from my eyes, “What will I do without him?” was all I could think. I am all alone, without him. Just then my phone beeped, the message said, “Don’t worry Zalak, we are not even near the silence zone. I am always there.”
Since yesterday morning he had been instructing me on how to live alone in a new place, a new city, a new state and a new culture. He was not the only one; my cell phone had been beeping since the time I woke up. My two ears were devoted to two different people, one who seemed worried about how I will manage next one month all on my own in an unknown surrounding. The other was also worried up to a certain extent, but about my frantic mood swings and what was held for him in the coming month.
With a bag pack on my back, a big suitcase in one hand and a cell phone in the other, reading and replying to the stream of messages, I followed him. We hired an auto, bargained over the money demanded, finally gave in, and started our journey. Chennai Central was not that far and I knew that all the last minute instructions were being repeated by him. I was more interested in knowing what was in store for the next month and was busy texting.
All of a sudden I heard something and it was not the regular monologue. He snapped, “Constantly over this phone of yours, are you even listening to what I have to say? You keep on talking with people who don’t value your time or your presence. Having friends is nice, but being obsessed about them is not good.” I was still grappling to understand the connotative meaning behind these lines. But anyway, there was a more interesting conversation going on, on the other end. My mind ordered both my ears and eyes to concentrate on messages and continue texting.
We had reached Chennai Central. His train to Ahmedabad was about to leave in half an hour. I bid a hurried good-bye as I was upset with him for scolding me since morning. May be I was just trying to divert my emotions from the fear of being alone to that of anger. I started walking with the crowd, pretending to be lost among hundred others. Did I see him properly for the last time? “Grrrr… ok, muster some courage and turn around, turn before it is too late”, I thought, though had lost all hopes of seeing him there.
I was sure that by this time he would have crossed the sub-way and might have reached on the other side of the road, and yet I turned, and to my surprise or somewhere deep down I knew, that he would be there. Like a child, who is about to lose his precious gift, he was looking at me, walking through the crowd. He made me realize that however hard I will try merging in crowds his caring and protecting eyes will always identify me. He made me feel warm, secure and protected. The feeling of SOON HE WILL BE GONE dawned upon me, and I ran… ran back towards him. All I could manage was, “Papa, have a safe journey, call me once your train departs, do not forget those mendu-vadas at Vijayvada and don’t worry I’ll be good.” He smiled and said bye. Few other silent moments followed, I asked him to leave and he said, “you leave I’ll go once you reach the bus stand”. I said “Bye, papa”, and walked away from him, but it seemed like I was getting more close to him.
Water droplets seemed to be rolling down my face but it was not raining. A stream of tears was flowing from my eyes, “What will I do without him?” was all I could think. I am all alone, without him. Just then my phone beeped, the message said, “Don’t worry Zalak, we are not even near the silence zone. I am always there.”
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
IT’S ONLY A MIRAGE
Every evening at around 4 pm we would meet. He was a medical student and would talk about how his day went in at the hospital, informing me about all sorts and kinds of patients he treated throughout the day. The passion with which he would narrate each case was amazing, though I was from a non-medical background, he would talk about each case using all the heavy medical terminologies he could, at times just to brag, but he was involved with his cases. I would lend my ears and he would pour in his stories. By the dinner time we would have travelled almost across the globe and discussed everything from patients to food, to current movies to the cockroaches in my bathroom to the new bed sheet that he will soon spread on his bed.
I called him a cribber. He cribbed about anything and everything under the sun. If he would go for a movie, he would crib about too much traffic on the road, if he went to dine out he will crib about the new restaurant not accepting his credit card, there was not one day when he would say, it was a perfect day! Another peculiar habit that he had was -clicking pictures. In his hi-tech cell phone, he will keep on clicking pictures about everything that interested him and show them while he spoke about those things. I was always amused by the level involvement he had during all our conversations. They were not some of those brainy intellectual conversations nor were they simple silly chit-chats. Normally people share a talk over a cup of coffee whereas he shared his life over chats.
I still can’t recall when it all started, I think during the world cup 2011 semi-final match. He went to watch a movie during the second innings and I gave him ball to ball updates. India won the match and since then we were always connected. Distances seemed to get dissolved in that victory. We stay 1858 KM away. One belongs to east and the other to west, literally, and yet we are connected more than we are with any other friend who might just be staying 7 blocks away from our place.
This makes me wonder about the social networks and the way internet transforms our relation and personality. A person whom you have never seen not even heard over phone becomes an inseparable entity of your daily routine. You know exactly how he will behave in what situation, his likes and dislikes; you are connected 24X7 as if you stay together in the same house. Yet, you don’t know the person. They create mirage relations. You can see and live a perfect life, but they are as real as the mist. You can see it, feel it, but can never touch it.
Whatever they are like, the important thing that connects us are our personal needs. I want to have a sense of belongingness and he needs a companion to share his life with. The question here that arises is what is the future of such relations? It is easy to depend on someone when the person exists in form infront of you. Though I see his world through his snaps, I live there, each moment, yet the existence is nothing more than the thin air that he breaths. It is important for survival, you feel it, but you can never touch or see it. Yet I would say it is worth experimenting. It is like going bungee jumping, let yourself loose and fall free, only then will you enjoy it. They are full of adrenal rush, thrill, fun and adventure, and most importantly they cultivate faith in you!
I called him a cribber. He cribbed about anything and everything under the sun. If he would go for a movie, he would crib about too much traffic on the road, if he went to dine out he will crib about the new restaurant not accepting his credit card, there was not one day when he would say, it was a perfect day! Another peculiar habit that he had was -clicking pictures. In his hi-tech cell phone, he will keep on clicking pictures about everything that interested him and show them while he spoke about those things. I was always amused by the level involvement he had during all our conversations. They were not some of those brainy intellectual conversations nor were they simple silly chit-chats. Normally people share a talk over a cup of coffee whereas he shared his life over chats.
I still can’t recall when it all started, I think during the world cup 2011 semi-final match. He went to watch a movie during the second innings and I gave him ball to ball updates. India won the match and since then we were always connected. Distances seemed to get dissolved in that victory. We stay 1858 KM away. One belongs to east and the other to west, literally, and yet we are connected more than we are with any other friend who might just be staying 7 blocks away from our place.
This makes me wonder about the social networks and the way internet transforms our relation and personality. A person whom you have never seen not even heard over phone becomes an inseparable entity of your daily routine. You know exactly how he will behave in what situation, his likes and dislikes; you are connected 24X7 as if you stay together in the same house. Yet, you don’t know the person. They create mirage relations. You can see and live a perfect life, but they are as real as the mist. You can see it, feel it, but can never touch it.
Whatever they are like, the important thing that connects us are our personal needs. I want to have a sense of belongingness and he needs a companion to share his life with. The question here that arises is what is the future of such relations? It is easy to depend on someone when the person exists in form infront of you. Though I see his world through his snaps, I live there, each moment, yet the existence is nothing more than the thin air that he breaths. It is important for survival, you feel it, but you can never touch or see it. Yet I would say it is worth experimenting. It is like going bungee jumping, let yourself loose and fall free, only then will you enjoy it. They are full of adrenal rush, thrill, fun and adventure, and most importantly they cultivate faith in you!
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