Television (TV) has become the major entertainment in our lives. The music shows, series, reality shows, news, cartoon, movies are all entertaining us day in and day out. There was a time when programs like Malgudi days, Rangoli, Turning point, Surabhi, Bomkesh Bakshi, Dekh Bhai Dekh, Ramayan were viewed with out missing even a single episode. Now may be due to the increasing number of channels and the remote control every one just browses through different channels watching 2 or more programs at a time.
Television is falling down a slippery slope. Quality TV programs are rare to find. Cursing, gratuitous violence, sex and vulgarity are now more "the norm" than the exception in all kinds of programs. The most popular meaning of vulgar is lacking refinement or good taste. Vulgar means conspicuously and tastelessly indecent. Oxford dictionary defines vulgar also as referring inappropriately to sex and bodily functions. Vulgarity is the quality of lacking good taste and refinement.
Indian television has gone a long way-“getting inspired” from the different American and British shows and producing the Swadeshi version of it. The difference is when one sees the original American or British version he/she feels it is ‘ok’, but when it comes to the Indian version one feels awkward. Adding unnecessary “drama” into soap operas and the reality shows make it really dragging. Thomas Carlyle equated vulgarism with materialism when he wrote "The deepest depth of vulgarism as that of setting up money as the Ark of the Covenant". Today Hindi and Malayalam Soap opera artists are materialistic to the extent that it definitely can be put into the vulgar category.
As far as the sexual content is concerned Indian TV programs are somewhat clean. But when it is used, it would have nothing to do with the story as such. This trend is slowly changing in Hindi cinema at least. Few new directors are judiciously using “kisses and hugs” in their movies. Malayalam, Tamil and Kannad TV industries are still where they were 5 years ago. On the other hand Videshi channels are said to have more vulgar content when compared to Swadeshi channels. There is always some sexual content in the foreign TV programs, but without it the story would be incomplete.
When it comes to the world of advertisements some western ads have irrelevant vulgar content when compared to Indian advertisements. For example Axe perfume Vs Park Avenue advertisements. In the westerns ads the concept is of attracting women but in Indian ads it is just smelling good and forming an identity.
According to David Foster Wallace, “TV is not vulgar and prurient and dumb because the people who compose the audience are vulgar and dumb”. What is vulgar and what is not will depend on one’s attitude. For some nudity is vulgar, for others abusive words and violence is vulgar. The same nudity that is considered as vulgar by some is considered as art by others. For example M. F. Hussain’s work, statues and sculptures in ancient Hindu temples, Deepa Mehta’s Fire, Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni’s The Mistress of Spices, and Vatsyayana’s Kamasutra.
It is the situation and the person’s mood that makes things vulgar. The culture also plays an important role in forming ones view of vulgarity. Public display of affection is considered vulgar in Indian society but not in western culture especially French and American societies. Therefore, as it is said ‘Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder’, vulgarity also is in the eyes of the beholder.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
My Dream 2-27/01/09
It was 12 o’clock. I know because this huge yellow ball of fire was smiling down at me right over the top of my head. My eyes took its time enjoying the colours of light, finally letting me know where I was. The sight was hideous, the smell horrible. But my face did not seem to notice any of that. I was expressionless. I could not express what I was feeling simply because I didn’t know what to feel. I just watched bluntly children running around in the slums of Mumbai, teenagers-smoking their lungs out and burning their veins, youth on the bus not missing an opportunity to pinch the boob or butt of any female in sight, father beating up his 8 year old son so as to make him work harder, mother putting her 2 month old (its ribs showing and its tummy swollen) in the cradle as the little one screams its head off. I took a deep breath and turned my head from the misery. The pungent smell of the gutter made me puke or was it the sight of a 16 year old giving a blow job to a 60 year old. Young half naked boys were fucking for survival. My churning stomach made me bend and apologise to the world for being so happy.
Then I saw that my foot was buried in snow-pure white snow and I was shivering. Every breath of mine was fogging my specs. I couldn’t see. I stood up straight and took off my specs, wiped it with the rim of the ever so soft cotton T-shirt that I was wearing. I put on the specs and knew immediately why I was shivering. I was surrounded by the Kashmir mountain ranges. I saw the beautifully blooming valley, the puffy clouds kissing the white mountain tops, the shikhara happily floating in the Dal Lake, and the little girl with a wide smile on her face bringing me lotus in her small row boat. A chilly wind made me blush as hundreds of men in dark green and black started scurrying past me. I looked back at the little girl. I saw that her smile was wiped away and the tears didn’t even get time to drop from her large shiny blue eyes. Her lotus was soaking in the red colour that was filling the little boat slowly, steadily. I was expressionless. I could not express what I was feeling simply because I didn’t know what to feel. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath trying to take in all the sweet smells of the flowers around me before it all was crushed to the ground and burnt. But all I could smell was the blood-fresh blood. I opened my eyes to see only smoke-black smoke.
The smoke was engulfing me into its blackness. My lungs were coughing hard to get it out. My hands were helping waving as hard as possible to get the smoke away from me-at least my face. I stumbled and sat down on the road, breathing wheezing slowly and heavily. The smoke was slowly clearing itself from my way mocking me at my defeat. As if it had other preys to hunt for. There were vehicles whizzing past me. People were walking by me, staring at me and shrugging. Anyway, I was relieved. I was free to get up and go. But I hesitated-just a second and then got up to my feet still swaying a bit. Suddenly I heard a loud noise behind me and everything went black again. I was expressionless. I could not express what I was feeling simply because I couldn’t feel anything.
When I opened my eyes I could see the ceiling fan not moving. I saw a leg in green plaster hauled up with white gauze and realized it was mine. I felt my head. It was there-ok. But now I could feel. It hurt really badly. Suddenly I felt my eyes welling up, tears rolling down my cheeks. I was happy-happy to be alive even in this cruel world, even in this state.
Many people came to meet me at the hospital. They brought me lots of flower, chocolates, cards, balloons, teddy bears, and what not. I was not enjoying it. I wanted to be left alone-alone with my happiness. The last thing I wanted was people reminding me that I am sick and hurt. It was then he walked in looking over the rim of the specs on his nose and that spectacular smile of his asking me what I was up to and when he can see me back in class. Five seconds after he stepped into the room his phone rang. He leaves the room saying good bye. I was just lying there smiling at the thought that he was the only one who did not mention I was sick and the only one who didn’t bother to wait for an answer. He was just… there.
That’s when the phone rang again… waking me… back to reality…
Then I saw that my foot was buried in snow-pure white snow and I was shivering. Every breath of mine was fogging my specs. I couldn’t see. I stood up straight and took off my specs, wiped it with the rim of the ever so soft cotton T-shirt that I was wearing. I put on the specs and knew immediately why I was shivering. I was surrounded by the Kashmir mountain ranges. I saw the beautifully blooming valley, the puffy clouds kissing the white mountain tops, the shikhara happily floating in the Dal Lake, and the little girl with a wide smile on her face bringing me lotus in her small row boat. A chilly wind made me blush as hundreds of men in dark green and black started scurrying past me. I looked back at the little girl. I saw that her smile was wiped away and the tears didn’t even get time to drop from her large shiny blue eyes. Her lotus was soaking in the red colour that was filling the little boat slowly, steadily. I was expressionless. I could not express what I was feeling simply because I didn’t know what to feel. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath trying to take in all the sweet smells of the flowers around me before it all was crushed to the ground and burnt. But all I could smell was the blood-fresh blood. I opened my eyes to see only smoke-black smoke.
The smoke was engulfing me into its blackness. My lungs were coughing hard to get it out. My hands were helping waving as hard as possible to get the smoke away from me-at least my face. I stumbled and sat down on the road, breathing wheezing slowly and heavily. The smoke was slowly clearing itself from my way mocking me at my defeat. As if it had other preys to hunt for. There were vehicles whizzing past me. People were walking by me, staring at me and shrugging. Anyway, I was relieved. I was free to get up and go. But I hesitated-just a second and then got up to my feet still swaying a bit. Suddenly I heard a loud noise behind me and everything went black again. I was expressionless. I could not express what I was feeling simply because I couldn’t feel anything.
When I opened my eyes I could see the ceiling fan not moving. I saw a leg in green plaster hauled up with white gauze and realized it was mine. I felt my head. It was there-ok. But now I could feel. It hurt really badly. Suddenly I felt my eyes welling up, tears rolling down my cheeks. I was happy-happy to be alive even in this cruel world, even in this state.
Many people came to meet me at the hospital. They brought me lots of flower, chocolates, cards, balloons, teddy bears, and what not. I was not enjoying it. I wanted to be left alone-alone with my happiness. The last thing I wanted was people reminding me that I am sick and hurt. It was then he walked in looking over the rim of the specs on his nose and that spectacular smile of his asking me what I was up to and when he can see me back in class. Five seconds after he stepped into the room his phone rang. He leaves the room saying good bye. I was just lying there smiling at the thought that he was the only one who did not mention I was sick and the only one who didn’t bother to wait for an answer. He was just… there.
That’s when the phone rang again… waking me… back to reality…
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