The front-page gloss and TV gimmicks

In the India we grew up, the printed word was our only window to the outer world. So, like so many of my generation, I am a reader of newspapers, magazines and books. I do watch the news on television, but the day always begins with a crisp newspaper sheet crackling between my hands and a cup of tea close by. However, of late I am distressed to find that the front page in most newspapers is a huge colour advertisement (God knows how expensive that must be) and there is a strip hanging from a later spread that interferes with one’s reading it under a fan. I know I sound fussy, but I bring this up because increasingly news is seen as an extension of entertainment and a matter of opinion rather than plain information. 

Television news is worse: every news anchor has adopted the screaming match as the preferred mode for a debate and some are downright abusive. I often wonder why people agree to participate in such programmes. Have we lost our sense of moderation and civil dialogue and just become spokespersons for this or that party, running our ‘leads’ according to TRPs and personal whimsies? Or, is this a deliberate ploy to incite public anger against certain groups to benefit certain political outfits? Indeed, one wonders why no one can see anything good in the world any more. A good Samaritan who adopts children orphaned by violence; a citizens’ endeavour to clean beaches and neighbourhoods; NGOs that bring relief to people suffering from drought or floods -- what about occasionally holding a debate on a topic that does not have a direct bearing on an event that took place nano-seconds ago? How about doing away with the phenomenon of ‘Breaking News’, so that we are not chasing our tails all the time accompanied by hysterical reportage and deeply offensive visuals? Why have newspapers and television channels surrendered to highlighting the violence and bile of the disgruntled with no space left for the soft voice of reason and peace?

I am not even going into the subject of the bilge that goes around on Twitter (how aptly named, as its users appear to be twits of the highest order) and hit-and-run handles such as Instagram and Snapchat. Editorial intervention, it seems, is a thing of the past and the levels of abuse and unsubstantiated facts are unparalleled. Note that most news supplied to us is based on revelations by ‘sources’. This is newspeak for planted news in friendly publications as is ‘paid news’, where the courts had to intervene with the Editors Guild to restrain publications from passing it off as genuine news. 

There are enough topics that need urgent public attention, but if all we are given are unending litanies of hate and violence, then, soon channels may find their viewers gone. Must we match the bellicose Pakistani generals with our own? Must we either love or hate the Indian Army? Shall we allow the media to drive us to war? My answer, as I am sure that of most Indians will be, an unequivocal ‘No!’ 

Let us now turn to art and cinema. Film festivals were once about serious cinema: showcasing the finest films from across the world before the best-known critics and film buffs. Indian films were once feted for their social content and creative direction. This was a time when Satyajit Ray, Shyam Benegal, Mrinal Sen, Adoor Gopalakrishnan were as respected at such forums as Kurosawa, Fellini or Scorsese. Today, we are hardly aware of whose films have been sent as our entries and why is this so? Because we are so obsessed by the fashion parade on some red carpet and are more interested in the colour of Aishwarya Rai’s lipstick, Sonam Kapoor’s dress or Deepika Padukone’s hairstyle. None of them wears the sari as once Nargis, Shabana Azmi or Smita Patil did with pride. And yet, clad in their beautiful Indian textiles, these brilliant representatives of our country (note, never brand ambassadors for a cosmetic firm) brought more awards home than all these brown memsahibs in their Gucci and Tucci.

Show me the paper that did not carry lavish colour pictures of these non-people and ask yourself: do you remember the name of a single Indian entry this year? I rest my case.

I apologise for the heat generated, but perhaps the scorching sun has entered our bloodstreams. Or so I thought until I heard the soothing tones of the Dalai Lama on two recent occasions in Delhi. Simplicity and a clean, uncluttered mind have given him an aura of what can best be described as a joyful serenity. His message is clear: give up anger, practise compassion and tolerance. Do not just chant mantras, go to their root and meditate upon them. Delve deep into yourself and you will discover eternal peace. As simple as all this may sound, it is the hardest path to follow. As he says, these are lessons the world learnt from India by following the teachings of masters who lived and taught here: the Buddha and the great masters who taught at the ancient universities of Nalanda and Taxila. 

Ironically, Taxila went to Pakistan and Nalanda came to us after Partition, both are now in ruins.