Kal Jahaan Basti Thi Khushiyaan, Aaj Hai Maatam Wahaan,
Waqt Laaya Tha Bahaarein, Waqt Laaya Hai Khizaan…
Namashkaar, Aadab, Sat Shri Akaal, Hello… My name is Doordarshan. Naam Toh Sunaa
Hoga… After a prolonged stoic silence, I have finally decided to vent my frustration in front of
all of you, the discerning public, who have grown up with me, and have subsequently discarded
me from your favour, just like you have forgotten about all those toys that you played with and
put it in the attic once you grew out of it, or maybe like the children of your maidservant who
were your playmates when you were young, but today are a source of embarrassment for you to
even recognize! Or maybe like an old acquaintance from whom you had taken a small loan
sometime back, but are now avoiding to recognize, just because it’s been too long now, although
you can pay him off quite easily.
I know I am not being politically correct here, but as I said earlier, I have decided to vent my
frustration to you all! Whether it makes any difference to you, I doubt, but let me present my
own case, and be free from all encumbrances, since everyone says I am the product of my own
short-sightedness! And to think that my name is Door-Darshan! Haah!
I sincerely think I have always been a propaganda-child, and a female one at that! Having been
born in India, the treatment being meted out to me now is not unprecedented, but what hurts is
the purposeful avoidance, as if I am a mistake no one wants to own up! There was a time when I
was the only child in the entire household, and was the apple of everyone’s eyes. Not that I was
brilliant, but I was at least presentable, and all the elders in family had only me to play with. I
was so pampered, I never got the chance to grow up, nor did I want to, lest the attention drifts
away from me. Being the cynosure of everyone’s eyes became my habit, and I took it for
granted, which was to be my bane in the long run. I did not even realize that while I was being
played around with, my playmates were also busy in producing other children, sometimes on
their own merit, at other times through artificial insemination!
They were the midnight’s children, who had the benefit of hindsight, and my own follies to act
as their own ‘what-not-to-do’ dossier. In a moment, my entire lifetime’s contribution to the
family was virtually forgotten. All of you, who suddenly started swearing by a BPL Oye! forgot
that I had given you the first Superhit Muqabla! Today, you are fed up of the news channels
doing the 24*7 analysis of the latest by-elections of the Vidhan Sabha, but it was I who got you
all hooked onto the election-results by throwing in some Hindi films during the midnight votescounting
of 1985 and 1989 elections and brought the Unity-in-Diversity theory to practice in
every drawing room in India by making all grown-up party supporters as well children of various
strata being glued to the screen, bleary-eyed!
The enormity of my loss is still not comprehensible to me, especially since I still have arguably
the most robust infrastructure in India, and probably one of the largest in the world too! But what
good is all this hardware, when the software produced for some time now has been like Faujiii –
the Iron Man…! Aah, those good old days also had aFauji, and he was certainly not an Iron
Man… but he had originality, he had innocence, and he certainly gave me something most alien
to me nowadays, TRPs. But all that was during my golden phase, immediately after I began
catering to the entire nation in colored extravaganza!
I debuted with the nationwide live telecast of the Independence Day Speech by my Mother in
1982, immediately following it up with the Asian Games in New Delhi. India’s win in
the Cricket World Cup the following year cemented my position as the sole provider of
entertainment and salvation for the whole country, and when I started showing them the story of
their own household in the simplest possible manner through Hum Log, Yeh Jo Hai Zindagi,
Buniyaad and Nukkad, I became the most favored child of the household. The agrarian economy
of India suddenly woke up and the farmers from all corners started asking questions and getting
answers through Krishi Darshan! All the producers of the latest Hindi films wanted to get at least
one song-slot on my bi-weekly Chitrahaar! Children could not have enough of Spiderman, He-
Man and Didy’s Comedy Show, but they were also being taught history lessons in the luxury of
their own rooms through Bharat Ek Khoj. However, I was probably the most favorite of the older
folk and the religiously inclined people, who would not let me breathe till I showed them our
mythological ancestry one Sunday after the other!
My golden period continued for almost five years, and I did not realize the birth of my
competitors around 1991, until they started copying my own program-templates to give it back to
me through the language of TRPs and market-share, which I hardly understood or cared about till
then… I was too self-absorbed to realize what was eating me inside-out, and before long, I found
myself out of favour. I know my mistakes in the hindsight… I did not (or probably was not ready
to) grow up with the changing times. I stuck with the same old formula year after year, playing
the morality game with an absolute political-correctness and strict censorship! I had still not
realized that I had been meant to be a propaganda child all along. I am sure my political bosses
had “Ganda hai par Dhanda hai yeh” song playing in their imported iPods in a loop all along…
Bosses changed from time to time, but the imported iPod with the desi song remained with the
chair, and I ended up being their mouthpiece! Over the period, all I would do or was allowed to
do was to show how X had brought glory to our country by doing so-and-so, or how Y had
single-handedly put a “Cherry-Blossom-shine” on the whole of India, the previous efforts by
other office-bearers be damned!
Today, I have 19 arms, technically reaching even the remotest parts of the country, with an
enabled mouthpiece for most of the states individually, and other especially dedicated channels
for sports, news, parliamentary affairs, but I have still not mastered the art of TRPs, and
my market-penetration in terms of viewership is almost negligible. Nobody watches the
programs telecast by me anymore, and two inherent strengths that I always thought would be my
savior, cricket and news, have also gone out of my control. Sometimes, my parents have to forcefeed
my program-contents to the unsuspecting cricket-lovers by denying the exclusive telecast
rights to my cousins! That’s my sole achievement these days, when I can claim a dedicated
patronage.
I do not blame my competitors, for they have been driven by the economics of perfectcompetition
and demand-and-supply in today’s world. My grudge is against my own guardians,
who have left me to compete with the professionals, but have provided me absolutely nothing to
fight with! I am helpless, since I am being governed by the independent Board Members of
the Prasar Bharti under Ministry of Information and Broadcasting of the Government of India,
and unfortunately, most of those Board Members are the bureaucrats on deputation, bored with
their lives, who tune into aBBC or a CNN in case they want an official confirmation of anything
that they might have done themselves during the day!
Is my fate also written with the same ink as the other government-owned monoliths in various
fields, who are falling sick one after the other, and the only solution to which seems to be
euthanasia? I am terribly afraid, and I did not want to go unheard, did not want to bow out
without putting up a fight. So, all my old-lovers, my once-upon-a-time patrons, I beseech you to
show me the way, or at least to say whether what I have to propose is right. I have the following
options available with me at present:
• Give up hope altogether for any kind of revival, and let my life take its own course. Let me
adopt mediocrity for the remainder of my life, and remain a propaganda-mouthpiece for all my
present and future masters.
• Follow what my cousins are doing, and insist on airing the following programs in their
revamped avatar: Bbuuniiyaaad, Huuumm Lougg, Kkaraamchhaandd, Nuukkadd. (I have
confirmed with Jjuumaaannii & Co. about the success-viability of these programs based on
numerology, so please do not suggest any spelling-changes. You are, however, welcome to
suggest other names, but they must all be numerologically tested and verified by a competent
authority.)
• File for divorce / separation / bankruptcy (of ideas), claim alimony (whatever little is due,
based on my present contribution) and settle into a life glorious ignominy, and remain to regale
the tales of my past achievements with nostalgia to all those who would care to listen. (Baap
Mera Ghee Khaya, Haath Mera Soongh Lo)
• Stand up and say no to being taken for granted. Demand my rightful place in the history of
Indian Television, and continue to provide those simple but soulful contents that were once my
hallmark. It’s a tough task, since the entire infrastructure as well as the mindset has to be
revamped, but I can’t take it lying down anymore, there’s my goodwill and past achievement at
stake.
Main Chhupana Jaanta Toh Jag Mujhe Saadhu Samajhta
Shatru Mera Ban Gaya Hai Chhal-rahit Vyavahaar Mera
©SATYENDRA JHA
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