SIGHT & SOUND
Gracious passage
Amita Malik

ONE can curse the idiot box as much as one likes but one must also admit that in times of great emotion or high drama in real life, it brings to millions of viewers a degree of proximity, a feeling that they were also there and actually participating in the event — and this no amount of print or first-hand account can equal.

We have our idols, some of whom may be great legends of sport, and when they retire, we like to see them go with dignity and respect. We bid them farewell with corresponding emotion because they have become a part of our lives.

I had the great pleasure of seeing Andre Agassi perform at Wimbledon when he started, with a long ponytail, earrings in both ears and with a flamboyant manner which at that time seemed almost rude. And last week, this time on TV, I saw him bow out, crying like a child. It was on the same court that Pete Sampras had also bid farewell to tennis, holding in his arms his infant son. He also cried. In Agassi’s case, there was Steffi Graff in the audience with her little son by her side. He also clapped when the entire audience stood up to give Agassi a fond farewell. It was a very touching moment and, I am sorry to say, different from the way we drive out our legendary sportspersons, who have given their best to the country. I also remembered the Australian farewell to Steve Waugh, where even the Prime Minister sat quietly in the audience without any apparent security and also rose to give Steve a standing ovation. At the US Open, we also bid farewell to that other great legend, Martina Navratilova, playing in the mixed doubles with one of the Bryan brothers. The affection with which the crowds treat her and the respect with which the commentators point out the awesome moments of her game when she is nearing 50, is truly touching as well.

Then one of the three great "W’s" of West Indian cricket, Sir Clyde Walcott, passed away last week, in his eighties. He was buried on a hill overlooking the cricket stadium named after him. It brought tears to many eyes. Yes, we can thank TV at times, even if we curse it.

The controversy about Vande Mataram has been so ugly that I turned with relief and, indeed with joy, to a truly outstanding programme on the national song on CNN-IBN. The programme derived its strength from the fact that it did as little talking as possible — and for once was confined to three simple questions put to musicians. After that the song spoke for itself, because it is a beautiful and stirring song and does not need any verbal certificates or angry defences.

A woman Sufi singer from Delhi, popular singer Abhijit from Mumbai, a two-man rock band from Kolkata and a woman who rendered the song in Carnatic style gave the song a status, a dignity and an emotional appeal by treating it as a beautiful piece of music in its own right. Both the Sufi singer and the Carnatic singer and, surprisingly, the rock artistes rendered the song in their individual ways but in its original mode. That is what Vande Mataram is and should remain, and not a political football.

To turn from the emotional and the beautiful to the ugly. We watched with pride and admiration the TV appearances of Himanshu, the bereaved son of Prof H.S. Sabharwal, who was brutally murdered by his students in Ujjain, as well as the loyal peon who was the only one from the college who had the guts to give first-hand evidence about the killing. The professor’s son naturally viewed the murder with righteous anger. But he kept his cool as far as facts and his interpretation of them were concerned.

Whether in the studios with an audience, as in NDTV’s the Big Fight where he faced some opposition, as well as support from professors, he stood his ground. Emotional no doubt and justifiably so, but those who did not agree with him found it very difficult to fault him in any way. Which is as it should be in such a situation.