Changing colours

Colours, a channel launched in July 2008 came as a whiff of fresh air as it telecast serials with hard-hitting story lines. The channel shot to fame quickly and its serials topped the charts. Serials like Balika Vadhu, Jai Shri Krishna and Bigg Boss soon became hot topics of discussion as they were entirely different from the usual Saas-Bahu serials.
It won’t be an exaggeration to say that the channel ended the run of many Saas-Bahu serials and sent rival channel directors, producers and script writers on a wild scramble for new and fresh ideas. What’s more, Ekta Kapoor who shot to fame through her K serials has moved away from producing K serials today. Sensing that people have had enough of her K serials, she has started producing serials without the K tag. But that doesn’t seem to have helped her regain the prime position in the minds of television viewers.
This was the time when the Indian television was going through a silent transformation. Rival channels, however, didn’t take much time to get on their heels. They launched serials in keeping with the demands of the public.
Soon channels were flooded with interesting programmes such as Jhansi Ki Rani, Agle Janam Mohe Bitiya Hi Kijo and reality shows. It was boom time again and viewers were spoilt for choice.
Sadly, sob stories are making a comeback in serials. Script writers are again trying to churn out mundane scripts, which highlight a poor woman’s struggle against the odds. TRP ratings seem to demand stories about battered women. Wafer-thin scripts are determining the success of television programmes now.
It’s sad that the Renaissance in Indian television was short-lived. We may need many more new channel launches to knock the current players out of their slumber.

Life in a metro

I knew a Metro ride in Delhi was no more fun. But I did not expect it to be a shocking experience. Last Saturday, my father and I were on our way home from a popular shopping destination, Karol Bagh.
Stating that people were packed in the Metro compartment like sardines would be an understatement. Before we could decide whether to take an auto instead, I was pushed into the Metro by the crowd. When I realised that my father had not boarded the train, I tried in vain to get out of it. Finally, I used my fists and managed to sneak out.
Now that I was out, I was shocked to see that people were still trying to get in.
The train was getting delayed as people were not allowing its doors to close in an effort to get into the compartment. Finally, when the doors closed, someone asked the Metro driver to reopen the doors as his belongings got stuck inside the train due to the commotion. It was more surprising as immediately after the train left the platform, another one that was relatively empty came in. We boarded this one, but I was still thinking about the previous train.
I had seen a couple with a small child get into the previous Metro. I was worried about how the child would manage in this kind of commotion, more importantly, if he would be able to breathe inside the packed compartment.
Delhi Metro is no doubt a gift to the city, but it is merely a little drop in a huge desert. I was wondering whether the couple would have stayed back if the public address system had announced the impending arrival of the next train. I have never travelled by Mumbai locals, but I have heard that it is pretty much like a war zone. Delhi Metro, too, is turning out to be very similar. This is just the beginning. You could expect more chaos when all its lines become fully functional.

Ride back home

I live 26 kilometres away from my workplace. This isn’t too big a distance for those who own cars. But, for those who take an auto, it is Rs 500 a day to and fro.
It started out to be just another ride back home after work. I hired an auto, and its driver said, “I will charge you a bit more since I will have to drive through huge traffic.” I agreed.
Halfway through, he started chatting. He said, “I’m sorry about Delhi’s state. Although I’ve been here for only a month-and-a-half, I feel this city is going nowh ere.”
I was taken aback, not because the city is a great place to live in, but because I was curious to know which other city, according to him, was better than the Capital. He continued, “Despite new roads and flyovers, there are traffic jams everywhere. Look at the buses. They are packed to capacity, just tailormade for pickpocketing and molestation.” This time, I sp oke, “Where do you come from?” “Mumbai,” he said. “And there is no standing system in buses in Mumbai,” he added.
“I really wanted to see Delhi, but I'm sorry about it’s state. Women in Delhi are not safe,” he went on. In Mumbai, it is a common norm to give martial arts training to women and they are better prepared to tackle such issues, he felt.
And, then came the shocker, “I’m not an auto driver by profession. I teach dance-drama and fine arts at a place. My friends told me that driving autos in Delhi is very profitable.” I wanted to know his name, but I had reached my destination. “Ma’am, please give me Rs 10 mo re than the metre reading,” he said.
I gave the money without asking any more questions. At least, there was a ‘please’ in his request. A true blue Delhi autowallah would have charged me the earth and still would have been disgustingly rude, I thought.

I want my 'INDEPENDENCE'

The Constitution of India came into force & India declared itself a Republic on January 26, 1950

As a child I always had a difficult time remembering dates of Republic Day, Independence Day, and the like. But now, I can't forget. I can't forget January 26, 2009. Fifty-nine years have not changed the way Indians celebrate Republic Day. But, for me Republic Day is different. It has a different meaning, a totally different meaning, for me now.

It was the day my 'forced-resignation letter' was being keyed in at office!

YES! I got it a day after the tri-colour fever gripped the nation. F*** FREEDOM, I thought! Just when I was finally settled.

Today, as I sat down to blog, the picture of the little money plant sapling I placed on my office desk, came to my mind. It was a joy, I must admit, coming to office and looking at the plant grow every day. The day I left office, I took it along. Can't bear to leave it to die there, there where only sweet-poison can grow to its full glory.

As days passed, each little leaf began to turn yellow. As if, it got a 'pink-slip' too! I tried a lot. A lot, indeed -- but I was not quick enough. It died very soon, long before I got another 'job'. I began to grow remorseful. I was the reason for its death. Since, if I had been 'good-enough' at work, I wouldn't have been asked to 'leave' and it could have stayed there too, alive. Only if I knew how much good makes it 'good-enough'.

This is when I knew I had to do something. Something fast! Something, anything!

"Why do you want to join us if you haven't been thrown out yet?"

"You say your designing is fab. Then why didn't they like your job?"

"They are still working. I see their paper still. Why did you get it then?"

"Can you show me the salary slip for this month?"

YES SURE... as if I was the reason MetroNow downed shutters!!

That was it. I cut the crap and sat home. Learned making round-rotis, instead! But how long, I thought to myself. This was when I started reading 'How the Mighty Fall' by Jim Collins. "Whether you prevail or fail depends more on what you do to yourself than what the world does to you," the author said.

My life has been a shuttle-cork -- from, Delhi to Orissa, from Orissa to Delhi, from Delhi to Patna, from Patna to Delhi, MidDay to MetroNow, MetroNow to an online company. Three years into journalism, I've been torn to pieces, but still haven't found my place yet. I have had enough and I want to stop. I want my 'INDEPENDENCE'. No more 'REPUBLIC' days for me -- please god, please!