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.
Monday, June 27, 2011
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!
Monday, January 18, 2010
Mona Lisa Smile
“Look beyond the Image”, is the central idea or theme of the movie Mona Lisa Smile. Katherine Watson (Julia Roberts) is the new Arts History teacher at Wellesley College, in Massachusetts USA in the America of 1950s. Wellesley was a very conservative all girls college for the liberal arts. Katherine Watson did not believe that role of a woman in their society was just to be a loyal wife and a caring mother. She was unmarried at 30 in those days. She wanted to live life by her rules and make a good career, before she got married. Once when a student asked her that why she was not married even when she had been in relationships with men in past, she said that “every relation is not meant to end up in marriage.” She was rebellious in nature and in her beliefs, which were more modern than the age in which she lived.
She tried to open up the minds of her young students and make them aware that there is much more to life than just being a just wife or a mother. She wanted to enlighten them about their roles beyond the accepted societal norms and show them the importance of achieving economic stability before marriage. She used Art History to communicate her ideology to her students.
The film Mona Lisa Smile urges it’s viewers to look beyond the conventional image of woman as home maker. The character of Betty asks a question by the end of the movie to her mother, who was a firm believer of the society rules. She shows her a painting of Mona Lisa and asks her, that ‘just because she is smiling in the painting, does it mean that she is really happy’? A question that should be asked is when we push ourselves, beyond our limits, to become that perfect Super-Woman shown in some xyz commercial, whether the lady who with a broad smile says “It Works!” becomes truly happy just because IT WORKS? And all men should ask a question to themselves whether their wife, mother, sister or daughter who struggle everyday to strike a balance between career and home is actually happy when she smiles and says “I managed it…”?
How much so ever we declare and believe ourselves to be a part of a modern society in India, we do not treat men and women equally, and the real picture is quite different. We need more Katherine Watsons in our society to shake the young girls out of the slumber and open their minds to new horizons in life. We need to make the men understand that a house becomes a home not only by the efforts of the female partner but by the joint efforts of husband and wife. Mona Lisa need not just smile but also be happy from within...
We don’t need Super-Women here, like our advertisements tell us, we just need a woman who has equal rights and to work outside her home as well as get support from her spouse in running the house to make it their home, ‘Sweet Home’!
She tried to open up the minds of her young students and make them aware that there is much more to life than just being a just wife or a mother. She wanted to enlighten them about their roles beyond the accepted societal norms and show them the importance of achieving economic stability before marriage. She used Art History to communicate her ideology to her students.
The film Mona Lisa Smile urges it’s viewers to look beyond the conventional image of woman as home maker. The character of Betty asks a question by the end of the movie to her mother, who was a firm believer of the society rules. She shows her a painting of Mona Lisa and asks her, that ‘just because she is smiling in the painting, does it mean that she is really happy’? A question that should be asked is when we push ourselves, beyond our limits, to become that perfect Super-Woman shown in some xyz commercial, whether the lady who with a broad smile says “It Works!” becomes truly happy just because IT WORKS? And all men should ask a question to themselves whether their wife, mother, sister or daughter who struggle everyday to strike a balance between career and home is actually happy when she smiles and says “I managed it…”?
How much so ever we declare and believe ourselves to be a part of a modern society in India, we do not treat men and women equally, and the real picture is quite different. We need more Katherine Watsons in our society to shake the young girls out of the slumber and open their minds to new horizons in life. We need to make the men understand that a house becomes a home not only by the efforts of the female partner but by the joint efforts of husband and wife. Mona Lisa need not just smile but also be happy from within...
We don’t need Super-Women here, like our advertisements tell us, we just need a woman who has equal rights and to work outside her home as well as get support from her spouse in running the house to make it their home, ‘Sweet Home’!
Monday, January 11, 2010
Johnny’s Midnight Goggles
Man has indeed become slave of machines. We seem to ignore the beautiful world around us. We don’t even realize the temporality of time and the growing up that happens in a jiffy. This is how, I would like to summarize, ‘Johnny’s Midnight Goggles.’
Matthew Sharp, the solo performer in the play, enthralled the audience with his performance at Natrani in Darpana Academy Ahmedabad as a part of his British Council supported three city India tours that would culminate in Trivandrum. Despite the strength of the performance, a few questions lingered in my mind. As a live performer, the actor’s dependency on pre-recorded sounds and dialogues and occasional lip sync was a little jarring.
As an audience of a live performance, one always expects to hear the actor’s voice without any artificial amplification .And therein theatre especially intimate theatre (like the space in Darpana) scores over the illusion of cinema. If watching something technologically larger than life would have been the intention, I would have rather gone to 3 idiots in a multiplex. On the whole, the production looked more like a musical treatment with a dash of theatre rather than the published review that said: ‘Witty, nail-biting and entrancing music theater. A One man Operatic Thriller.’
Having said all this, one was still moved by the sharpness of the piece. Mathew turned his cello into his co-actor. Using the instrument among other things as; a train compartment, a horrible machine monster and also a wild beast. What I liked the most about this solo performance was the way he turned a technical error into an independent mini scene. He walked up to the technical guy, narrated his intention and muttered some details (which I hardly followed) and got his microphone device fixed!
The play was a visual delight helped by the lights that filled in for props and a background score which was enchanting and occasionally witty one liners ranging from Arnold’s biceps to Sarah Palin. However, it would have been interesting to see how a vernacular audience especially a Bhavai artist would have reacted to the show. Most likely, it would have failed, because it could not dissolve the barriers of language and turn the gestures into an independent narrative.
Great evening but still could have been better.
Matthew Sharp, the solo performer in the play, enthralled the audience with his performance at Natrani in Darpana Academy Ahmedabad as a part of his British Council supported three city India tours that would culminate in Trivandrum. Despite the strength of the performance, a few questions lingered in my mind. As a live performer, the actor’s dependency on pre-recorded sounds and dialogues and occasional lip sync was a little jarring.
As an audience of a live performance, one always expects to hear the actor’s voice without any artificial amplification .And therein theatre especially intimate theatre (like the space in Darpana) scores over the illusion of cinema. If watching something technologically larger than life would have been the intention, I would have rather gone to 3 idiots in a multiplex. On the whole, the production looked more like a musical treatment with a dash of theatre rather than the published review that said: ‘Witty, nail-biting and entrancing music theater. A One man Operatic Thriller.’
Having said all this, one was still moved by the sharpness of the piece. Mathew turned his cello into his co-actor. Using the instrument among other things as; a train compartment, a horrible machine monster and also a wild beast. What I liked the most about this solo performance was the way he turned a technical error into an independent mini scene. He walked up to the technical guy, narrated his intention and muttered some details (which I hardly followed) and got his microphone device fixed!
The play was a visual delight helped by the lights that filled in for props and a background score which was enchanting and occasionally witty one liners ranging from Arnold’s biceps to Sarah Palin. However, it would have been interesting to see how a vernacular audience especially a Bhavai artist would have reacted to the show. Most likely, it would have failed, because it could not dissolve the barriers of language and turn the gestures into an independent narrative.
Great evening but still could have been better.
Friday, January 8, 2010
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A trip in gulbai tekra actually made me realize that people living in the area are so beautiful, my fashion photo story is based on these slum girls...
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