Page three on TV now
Amita Malik

PAGE 3 became official on TV with the launch of NDTV’s Night Out on its English channel, in close proximity to its nightly programme on crime in the city but, luckily, with no immediate connection. And now with the predictable tie-up with five star hotels, discos and restaurants, it can sometimes be quite entertaining. Some Page-3 types who have something to sell are incredibly vocal about their wares. Nothing like free publicity. Except that I am still trying to figure out what that woman in an orange outfit lolling on a chair as part of its opening sequence was trying to say. I have tried hard over several weeks and frankly can’t make out a word of what she was saying and now accept that this type of incoherence and occasional dumbness is part of the Page 3 set-up. I mean, one can’t always have Shobhaa De, can one?

And during this and every puja season, even religion becomes a social, almost Page 3, event. Except that here politicians become Page 3 people. So you have the PM, o r more likely the Deputy PM, complete with armed securitymen in conspicuous suits and ties at mandirs and mandaps. No secret service men are as camera-hugging as ours, not even Sharon’s men. Because they aggressively position themselves before the camera on either side of a VVIP whether in New York or Kali Bari, hoping that the missus and the kids are watching at home. As it is, it is painful to think that genuinely devout people at the most sacred spots now have to be wary of aatankwadhis. In addition, they now have to be wary of lathi-wielding aggressive securitymen. And as Doordarshan uses the famous phrase it has used for years "with gaiety and devotion", worshippers now have to be very devout to invest our most loved of annual religious festivals "with gaiety and devotion". Interesting combination, even if the word gay is suspect these days.

Star weddings were always the stuff that TV was made of, anywhere in the world. But Karishma’s wedding almost outdid her Karishma serial in hype. The traffic jams, the now familiar mild lathi charges, the fans trying desperately to spot the stars, were multiplied beyond count. The poor mediapersons on the spot, asked firmly to keep out but doing nothing of the sort, were gleefully persecuted by their colleagues in the studio, asking for minute details of what was happening inside when they had barely got up to the porch. The wedding was on the day when the victorious Indian hockey team arrived back home and had a media problem of its own as its loqacious coach (or was it the manager?), anxious to hog the cameras and the credit, asked poor Dhanraj Pillai and his team mates to keep their mouths shut and not go anywhere near the media. This was at Chennai. One hopes that when they arrive in Delhi, they will be allowed to be human and professional and talk about their triumph before the sports minister and all the VIPs connected with the team again shove off the players and usurp prime time as if they won the match.

However, even if it bordered a bit on the sentimental side, I was personally touched with the shots of Jugraj following the match on his hospital TV set. He spoke to each member of the team before the match, and the team carrying out their promise to win the match for him. They waved to him long distance on TV. What they did was worth a hundred Page 3s and I must confess that together with lakhs of viewers I also felt quite sentimental. The usual patriotic gloating over having beaten Pakistan receded to the background.

However, Dasehra is Dasehra and watching it on TV makes one enjoy it without the hassle of joining the crowds thereatened by aatankwadhis, not to speak of the securitymen. And it is a real display of our unity in diversity as one watches programmes during this festival season: seeing Gujaratis do their unique dandiya, we try to forget the terrible events last year. It is equally interesting to watch the unbelievable, competitive pandals of Kolkata, vying with each other for new ideas and creativity. Or, to watch the Prabashi Bangalis in the Capital or Mumbai, celebrating with traditional singers and the famous dhol players bringing a little bit of Bengal to other states. Certainly, the exuberance of North India splits the air and ear as Ravana goes up in smoke with deafening bangs.

It is during such events that one appreciates the power and reach of TV to make Indians realise it is one nation and that down the ages different communities, as neighbours and friends, have joined in celebrating each other’s festivals not for political reasons, as with the notorious iftar parties, but because they genuinely respect each other’s faith and take joy in their individual celebrations.