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TV, my teacher and my friend If
you buy that You don't have to be born with a silver spoon in your mouth to have a rich uncle called Albert living in London. When you are desperately in need of cash (and no small amount, either) all you have to do is call your uncle and he will send it immediately, as if all his life he has been waiting for your call. Someone who is irksome at first becomes irresistible later due to a razor blade, talcum powder or a deodorant. The difference in being at the top of the class at school or at the bottom, getting zero out of hundred or hundred out of hundred at exams and winning sports competitions, depends on a sausage, a slice of cheese, a glass of milk or the kind of washing powder your mother uses to wash your uniforms. Dabs of eau-de-cologne or a bowl of cereal show how much a mother loves her children. Things are a bit more difficult for a father. In order to show how much he loves his children a father first has to get an insurance policy, then die, so that the children will remember him with love on their graduation day. Grandfathers lose their senses over pieces of chicken or a peppermint, grandmothers eat chocolates in secret, visitors carry packets of noodles when they go visiting, dark skinned people become as white as a half-sheet paper overnight by applying cream on their faces. Reel
life Teledramas are beyond comprehension. There are so many, and so often, with the same cast acting in them. It is unsettling to see the young man who was courting a girl at 7.30 p.m., married with a kid and suing for divorce at 9.30 p.m. or to have a mother who is a tyrant on Monday being docile and gentle on Tuesday. My mother 'shh... shhs' me when I protest and wonder if I should record them in my diary so that I could refresh myself next week, and glares at me when I burst out laughing at the wrong moments. The tragic scenes make me laugh (there is so much over-acting) and the comic scenes bring tears to my eyes because I feel sad when I realize comedy had died with Andare. For a while, Podi Malli and Chooti Malli brought it back to life through Api Nodanna Live, but now they too have seemingly disappeared from the world of the flat screen, leaving nothing in the true sense of comedy to laugh at. After 7.30 p.m. it is taboo to call aunts and grandmothers and great aunts and cousins. Everybody talks to me in monosyllables and I replace the receiver wondering why they are so curt tonight. Then I realize I would have called at the wrong time. Everybody is busy watching teledramas. "It’s the best part of the day for me," says my aunt, a teacher. "What? Watching all those people crying over all those problems?" I ask her in amazement. She nods sagely. "It's good to know other people have problems too." I don't mind the problems, though they seem to be the same - children ill-treating parents, parents opposing the choice of partners of offspring, villagers always dressed in rags and living in poverty, city-dwellers, always living in mansions with beautiful gardens and servants - but I mind the minor 'un-realities'. None of the characters in teledramas have parking problems, they never wear the same dress twice, they drink tea in cups and saucers and have their meals seated at dinning tables, and most of all, they never ever watch TV. Over
to you... The English movies are all centred around violence - someone is brutally murdered and two detectives, one eccentric the other normal, risk their lives to find the murderer. The Hindi and Tamil films are very long. A movie which begins when I leave home in the morning is still on by the time I come back in the late afternoon, and this is only part one, I'm told, part two will be shown next week. If I manage to sit through one hour of a Hindi movie I could walk away with a horde of philosophical and romantic statements crowding my mind. "Whenever you are in trouble think of your parents. Remember they are there with you always, to love you and support you." A sentence I remember from Kabi Kushi, and "These words are mine but I hope they are your thoughts..." a line from a Hindi song. The best way to increase your vocabulary when it comes to swearing and name-calling is to watch political discussions, which almost always end with the participants exchanging blows across the table. Among the words I picked up during the last few weeks, the mildest is nariya. "Obathuma Nariyek," said one politician to another. Today, hardly anyone can do without a TV. To state the obvious, most people, whenever they are at home, spend their time seated in front of it, and when they are not watching it, they talk about something or the other they have seen on it. No gathering ever disperses without someone asking, "Did you watch...?" It has its dark points, though. People sit through real life musical shows and stage dramas as if they are watching TV and refuse to respond to what is happening in front of them. My cousins, when they seek my help to write school essays, and when I ask them to use their imagination reply, "We don't have imagination. We watch TV!" And a few minutes ago it proved to be a tyrant and a despot that they were watching. I walked into our sitting room wondering if anyone would like to read this article and give his or her comments. "Shhhhhh," said three voices. You guessed right. The male population in our household was watching the sports news on TV and mum was the word. Companionship With all its shortcomings I don't think anyone can do without the TV today, not when it casts a soft glow in the dark, when the murmur of voices reminds you that out there is your species laughing, crying, loving, quarrelling... that you are not alone. It has become a loving companion, an antidote for loneliness. Would anyone disagree? |
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Copyright © 2001 Wijeya Newspapers
Ltd. All rights reserved. |
By
Aditha Dissanayake
