...And The Award Goes To None

Raju Korti
I am overtaken by a sense of trepidation and despair every time a Sunday approaches. Not that one doesn't need a welcome break from the daily skullduggery and humdrum. But for sheer ennui and redundancy, Sundays aren't fun days any more.
Being a habitual home bird comes with its own incumbent risks. There are not many ways to break the shackles, and more often than not you end up switching on the telly in the fond but useless hope of stumbling upon some wholesome recreation. The menu is anything but appetising.
Thanks to the presiding officer of the cable entertainment, the starters are provided by regressive, outrageous soaps punctuated by synthetic and larger-than-life characters who are either too lovey dovey, too scheming, too rich, too poor and too generally too. Loud and pedestrian dialogues matched by garish costumes are far removed from the real. A few minutes of dekko is enough to throw you into pessimism to last till the next weekend. As one who would pause to occasionally watch Marathi serials because they were a wee bit more sensible and down to earth, it is frightening to see the rot setting in there too. There is truly university in this stupid diversity.
The anchors of the crime shows look like criminals themselves, spouting corny scripts and accompanied by strange gesticulations. Of course, they are fun to watch, if you can soak in the humorous element, but then that humour is as dead beat as some of the decomposed and mutilated corpses that are meant to send chills down your spine. The "reconstructed" scenes are probably enjoyed only by the actors who must laugh their guts out at having made a neat pile of dough for doing something as non sensical as that.
Brace for worse for the onward journey -- a plethora of so called news channels. If you haven't seen or known the hosts of talk/debate shows, news anchors and sundry reporters passing off non events as news, you can see them giving you fixed grins from ubiquitous posters dotting your cityscape. They do not need any more honourable mention here. These guys do no wrong, say no wrong, know almost everything under the Sun and their opinions matter above everyone else's. Little wonder even the "experts" summoned to speak look lost and stymied, cut off as they are even before they start waxing eloquent on their valued opinions. Upstart reporters asking inane questions to a cluster of people, most vying to get in front of the camera, look flustered and like sacrificial lambs when news anchors dictate to them from their air conditioned studios what questions to ask. Debates are a non show if there are no frayed tempers.
Movie and music channels that used to be tolerable once have run out of steam. The fare is repeated far too frequently under different heads. So be prepared to watch Shah Rukh Khan's DDLJ ad nauseum in "Romantic Movies", "Love Films", "Kajol Special", "Chopra Special" or maybe "King Khan Week".
But by far the worst is the awards functions. Week after week a hapless audience is condemned to watch some award function or the other or their repeat telecasts "for the benefit of those who missed out the first time". Not satisfied with one man anchoring the show, these days they foist another who in tandem make a pathetic attempt to tickle your funny bone. The scripts are either too pompous or too free flowing to the comfort of your sanity. On the other side of the stage we have award winners who have to kiss and hug their folks after their name is called, jealous competitors sporting disdainful smirks, and others who clap and watch animatedly at just about everything. The inspirational thanksgiving speeches of the ones pipping their rivals to the post are interspersed with the co-anchors pulling each other's leg or making snide remarks against their peers -- all in good humour. And sitting in your drawing rooms, you are supposed to enjoy this unmitigated mediocrity as spice.
The laughter shows make your intestines spill out of your tummy. If you don't laugh here, you are being too harsh on yourself. And to the hosts! If you can't understand and appreciate below-the-belt humour, then your sense of humour is perhaps warped,
That leaves us with some sporting encounters. And if it is something like the IPL that is long enough to give the Great Wall of China a complex, you have the liberty and option to redefine what kind of event it is. A recreation or entertainment.
Whoever said what the eyes don't see the heart doesn't grieve about certainly wasn't speaking through his hat.