Skip to main content

Country of Angry Men

It was a sight to behold. One of the most respected and acclaimed actors in India cinema having a meltdown on national television. I stood transfixed on the spot as he railed against the host, his show and the media for sensationalising the issue and driving partisan politics. Once he had vented his anger, there was quiet. Arnab knew he had won. This was what his show was about and the ratings would go through the roof. All he had to do was stay calm, stay firm and so effortlessly use the outburst of the senile old man as irrational and worse, unpatriotic, in a time of fervent patriotism.

I was angered, because he had won yet again, to the delight of my father who never failed to catch the show first thing in the morning before he left for work. It was called a debate, but it was anything but a civilised debate. It was geared towards invoking passion, creating divide, making the panelists lose their temper (and meltdown) and it was all too brilliantly conducted by Arnab with his constant haranguing, interruptions and quickly made (and often wrong) conclusions. It was tabloid TV at its best.

Despite his brilliance, I hated the show, or more the timing of it. My father had a habit of turning it on first thing in the morning, a time when peace and quiet was of the utmost importance. Instead, while having my breakfast, I had to tolerate the shouting of all the angry men that went on in the background.

As I out my shoes on and made my way to the door, I could not help but remark to my father,

"Endina ee chavare kanninathe?" (Why are you watching this rubbish?)

"Ende chavare?" (What rubbish?)

I did not wait to respond but closed the door as I left.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

An Eye for an Eye

"Something that three or four years ago you told me was one of the touchstones of maturity: being nice to people even when they’re not nice to you…" - William Styron It was an plan that came out of nowhere. Perhaps half depressed by the winter and half depressed by the inactivity at work, there was sufficient turmoil in the mind to create these type of plans and then let it fester, until something that started off with a what-if turned into a why-not. It would have been the perfect revenge for the past hurt and humiliation that was yet to completely heal.  The circumstances were similar. On one side, an eager visitor who had traveled far to say "Hello" and on the other side, a host, bewildered and surprised by this visit. In the first case, the host would not receive the visitor, who would turn back humiliated and vowing never again. Now the roles were reversed and I was the host. What if I agreed to receive? What if in reality I did not plan to receive? ...
Post a Comment
Read more

An Ode to Marriage

I remember pondering about the need for marriage during a certain period of my life. Partially inspired by stoicism, I saw a man as an island in a big ocean, continuously being battered by the waves and storms, but holding fort and growing strong with each test. It was also when the idea of monasticism greatly appealed to me, to leave behind, for the lack of a better work, the bullshit of society and trying to attain enlightenment.  Somehow that idea fell apart after a brief meditation stint in a monastery, but the idea of marriage I resisted. The freedom that came from being single seemed too precious to let go. Furthermore life was complicated as it is. Why complicate it further by introducing another person to that life, someone who would bring her own mannerisms, rules, habits, many that might end up conflicting with your own. However, a lot of these ideas and beliefs start to die when friends of yours each start getting into their own relationships and have no more time for yo...
Post a Comment
Read more

Sparing the Rod

 She gave me a look of deep displeasure, not very atypical of the look most members of the opposite gender gave me. “You know you can’t do that in Germany?”, she asserted with the same authority my mother used to tell me about not messing around in her kitchen.  “Yes I am aware”, I meekly responded, knowing well that any kind of argument about this would not end well, so it was better to close off the topic quietly and unlike the kitchen, I could not afford to get kicked out of Germany. She was not the first to respond with such hostility to what seemed like the most natural of things in my experience. The last one who told me the same was a teacher I had met at a party. When she sounded shocked that I was ok with it and said it was not right, I (with some alcoholic courage) had retorted, “How would you discipline them then if they do something wrong?” “I would tell them I am very disappointed with them”. I almost laughed. However, that was very much the theory of my new frien...
Post a Comment
Read more