Sight & Sound 
A formidable line-up of commentators 
Amita Malik

I have a confession to make. Like most Indians I have been hooked to the India-Pakistan cricket matches to the neglect of all the other programmes I am supposed to review for viewers, listeners and readers. Whatever I have seen besides cricket is mainly politics. I have actually met people highly interested in politics at normal times who learnt it much later after the official announcement that Rahul Gandhi would stand for election from Amethi.

In some ways, even more formidable than the political analysts, with a little of floor-crossing here and there, is the line-up of cricket commentators. They are mostly ex-cricketers or those actually playing in the present series. It was graceful of Sahara Samay to include Azharuddin in its panel. The Pakistan authorities had left him out when they had sent invitations to former Indian cricket captains. Arup Ghosh conducted the long discussions with skill and confidence. NDTV snapped up daily interviews with Rahul Dravid and Shoaib Akhtar, apart from spot interviews from Lahore and Multan or wherever. All the other channels, such as Star News and Aaj Tak, had their own special programmes and one had a hard time choosing between them.

Besides, Ten Sports scored with a formidable panel of three — Sanjay Manjrekar, Imran Khan and the one and only Navjot Singh Sidhu. Doordarshan should have picked up a few lessons about not trivialising serious cricket with women in noodle straps or lacy blouses and the smirking men cricket experts treating them as equals. The silly excuse that such glam dolls draw women to cricket has convinced no one. They seem to be there more to attract male voyeurs. Indian women who take cricket seriously do not need noodle straps to be attracted to the game. Again, the Indian women’s cricket team is now of world class and can easily provide guest experts for panels. And lastly, there are a number of competent women commentators and anchors on most channels, English and Hindi, for sports programmes. There is the knowledgeable and confident Sonali Chander of NDTV, and she has some very impressive colleagues on the other channels. Let us not insult both women sports specialists and women cricket lovers by bringing in noodle straps and lacy blouses. They can be easily accommodated in the profusion of silly programmes on films that infest many channels. There is a moral in Mandira Bedi’s confession that she was recognised more in Pakistan for her role in one of the soapy saas-bahu serials. That is clearly where she belongs.

I am no more of an expert on cars and motor cycles than on cricket, but am certainly interested in them. I must confess I miss the longest-running motor and two-wheeler show wheels on the BBC. Niret Alva’s pleasing TV personality and research made the programme so popular.

I again watched NDTV’s car and cycle show last week as I have been doing for some weeks. I have watched it carefully as I have respect for the professionalism of the producer. But something kept bothering me and I have now laid my finger on it. In Wheels, although the cars move at speed, one gets time, especially amateurs, to look at leisure at the inside of the car, to linger over the technical details. The NDTV programme, however, is so keen on clever camerawork and unusual angles that the programme runs away with its main purpose, which is to help viewers to choose a car or two-wheeler with the help of expert advice. But one has hardly any time to understand what the anchor is explaining, when the car goes dashing away for gimmicky long-distance shots. An illustration of the old saying: "More haste, less speed."

Tailpiece: Since we are saddled with ads on TV, one tries to live with them. Some give genuine pleasure for the ingenuity and creativity behind them, some make me feel stupid trying to understand what they are saying.

For instance, there is this ad by a jewellery house. One first sees a few items of diamond jewellery, which is enough to convey the main idea. A coy woman, dressed like a dancer, comes down in one of those open-view lifts. She steps out demurely and is watched by a young man who makes sheep’s eyes at her from quite a distance. She then glides, like a shikara, through a saree shop without a sign of jewellery. Then she kneels right at the end of the shop and starts praying. This is when the young man sneaks up and puts his hands familiarly on her shoulders and she gives him another demure look. If he knows her well enough to put his arms round her shoulders, why was he eyeing her longingly from a distance and why was she praying in the saree shop? Does someone have an answer?