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You could call it a one-night crusade. When 19-year-old Ramchanphy Hongray was found dead in her Munirka accommodation in Delhi, you knew that all the channels — of whatever alphabetical persuasion — were going to jump on the saturation coverage bandwagon. By Monday prime time, the incident received widespread coverage, especially as DCP (South) H.G.S. Dhaliwal, in a press release, revealed in detail that the incident was the result of an unfortunate murder committed by a jilted neighbour, an IIT student pursuing his Ph.D. For the channels it could not get any better than this. Spurned IIT geek, plus a murdered young Naga girl from Manipur (or was it Arunachal Pradesh?), plus a confession in the form of a police handout. For TV, at least, crime always pays, which is why lesser news channels use nightly crime to shore up their ratings. In the discussions that followed, leaders from the North-East Students’ Council were agitated, as were academicians from that area. In one unified voice they kept saying this was an incident waiting to happen. That Delhi is a violent city, and that when girls from the North-East are harassed, teased or even assaulted by Delhi’s insensitive public, their complaints are either ignored, or they are told not to dress provocatively. We, the public, know this as does the media, but it takes one gruesome murder for the coverage to sporadically appear, and another 24 hours for it to disappear. The issue springboards into our national consciousness and lies dormant till another incident takes place. As in the horrible Arushi murder — that took place more than a year ago — this time, too, the media lapped up what the police has given as evidence. All that the media has is the police testimony that the frustrated, unmarried Pushpum Sinha from Patna has confessed. One channel even reconstructed the crime, with the victim writing graffiti on his wall — a fact that the police alluded to. I think the word used was "perverted graffiti." From Patna, Sinha’s father is yelling that his son is actually married. So who do we believe? Lest anybody think I am taking the side of the alleged murderer, I am not. If I am pointing at anything, it is the alacrity with which the media takes sides. Even taking into account the time constraint, the Fourth Estate needs to be more efficient as truth seekers. Yes, as I am told constantly, it is easy to criticise with only a weekly deadline to meet; try facing a hourly deadline, I am told, while looking over your shoulder to see what the other news channels are up to. But there has to be a way out, which is both professional and newsworthy. There cannot be a loose connection between the way news is produced and the way it is consumed. The great comedian, Groucho Marx, I believe, once famously remarked: "Who are you going to believe, me or what you see?" If I invert that comment, I can ask who are you going to believe — TV or your own innate sense of balance and fair play? And now to the other bug bear, content regulation. Another week, another reality show, and yes, another controversy. This time it is all about teeny-weeny clothes and pulling shorts off. Big Boss, season three, aired on Colors, might be ruling the airwaves, but it has the Ministry of I&B frothing. The mandarins sat up, and the rest is in the realm of a stern memo to the offending channel. Another new season of Desperate Housewives is upon us, season five, and, I for one, am not complaining. The original famous four come back to us, looking none the older, which makes one a little suspicious. The one who really looks worn out with her two new additions to her family is Gaby (Eva Longoria Parker). Gone is the suave yoga-loving, gardener-lusting Mrs Solis, whose day was defined by the designer shopping she did, and the hearts she squashed under her heels. Now we see a bedraggled, mom-in-progress, with, gasp, overweight kids. But the rest of the troupe looks and sounds pretty much the same, glamorous and gorgeous, living in their fabulous homes in Wisteria Lane. Actually, Bree played by Marcia Cross looks so botoxed that her face looks like a mask (all wrinkles will be prosecuted), and Susan (Teri Hatcher) wears even more make-up and thicker eyelashes to bed than before. But those inconsistencies apart, the show still manages to pull in its target audience. Superbly crafted, tightly written, every episode ends on a note of deep mystery and loathing. In this season the villain comes in the shape of Dave Williams, husband of the sometimes-we-like-her, sometimes-we-don’t Eddie (Nicolette Sheridan) . We don’t know what the mystery man’s agenda is, but we know that he is up to no good, which is why we eagerly await the next episode.
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