SIGHT & SOUND
Jassi jaissi har koi
Amita Malik

For this columnist at least, and many other viewers, there was at last a light on the horizon when two serials appeared on the screen over a year ago. One was revolutionary in its concept of the heroine, so, in a way was the second, although it had many individualistic characters in addition to the heroine. Thumbing its nose at the saas-bahu syndrome, Jassi Jaissi Koi Nahin introduced a completely unconventional heroine, a very plain girl with thick glasses, bad teeth and no concept of how to dress. But she had brains and shone in an office full of hostile characters and colleagues who made fun of her behind her back. Jassi won hearts all over India and gave immense hope to working girls in the country who felt that even if they fell into the girl-next-door category, they had it in them to shine in a different way.

And now the serial has spoilt it all. Jassi, from being a lovable duck, has become a smug aid of beauty parlours, fashion designers and script-writers, who have made her into a typical glamorous heroine, arousing jealousy and hostility as before, but for the usual, well-known reasons. There is even, heaven help us, a large dose of courtroom scenes, reminiscent of the old-fashioned desi fillums of the fifties and sixties. Jassi’s old crush on her young boss, has now changed into his wooing her in the usual way. And, if they do not actually run round trees singing songs, they get precious near to it. In the process, the original Jassi has lost out to the new one, and viewers are getting a bit bored with it all. In fact, the only good touch was bringing in the CID team from a serial on the same channel to save Jassi from being convicted for murder. That had a touch of humour.

Unpalatable act

And so we come to the second serial sliding downhill. Astitva, Ek Prem Kahani has been one of the more bearable serials in recent years. Strong characterisation, modern, sophisticated family, professional situations, and some obviously contrived coincidences covered up by many more credible ones.

And at the centre of it, Dr Simran, a woman who faces the most awesome marital and other problems with admirable poise and courage. In her professional life, she is a model of integrity and dignity. So, of course, they had to spoil it all. In her efforts to protect an adopted daughter to whom she has given a wonderful upbringing and protection in spite of the latter being a spoilt brat, Simran is reduced to a simpering, tearful mamma, ruthlessly destroying other young lives in her misguided and totally unjust efforts to protect the brat. In the process, I think the scriptwriters have destroyed Simran’s character whose many unconventional acts in the serial set her apart as a very different kind of heroine. And all this at a stage in the serial where we are facing an exciting situation: a young woman has been running after her literary idol, little knowing that he is her long-lost father.

Ad trouble

I must again register a strong protest about two developments in the showing of serials which have taken away from viewing pleasure and patience, and all in the interest of money, in one instance. The practice of running serials for four days in the week, in succession, and then leaving viewers to chew their nails for the rest of the week adds to both confusion and resentment. Worse, more time is given throughout serials to advertisements, which hold up the action and completely destroy the continuity. I have been making enquiries and this practice, originally instituted by Doordarshan for everything, including sports, seems to be unique to India. Most western channels insert ads at the beginning and end of the serials and films and do not interrupt programmes for them.

And talking of herd instincts, have you noticed that Indian women on screen, from anchors to actresses, no longer have the lovely shiny black hair which have been the envy of even blondes? Some smart dye manufacturer has sold Indian women the idea that they look better with orange hair. Not always orange, but ranging from carrot colour to bronze. And everyone has fallen into the trap. As they have for chandelier earrings, which some smart jeweller, possibly western, has sold them. Indian women have long worn jhumkas (long earrings) as they have what Bengalis call kaan-pashas, earrings better described as ear studs. The choice belonged to an individual’s taste and choice.

But no longer, it seems. Not on TV anyway.