Satire: K-Serials are putting the meaning of idiot in the idiot-box

I must say I find television very educational. 
The minute somebody turns it on, I go to the library and read a good book.
Groucho Marx, US comedian

There is no other situation where this is more applicable than with our K-serials, if you leave out irritating news channels.    

I call them so because of their common theme: all begin with 'K', thanks to the fad of a certain TV production house.  Nothing to do with K-pop, don't worry.   

Is it five-year-olds who come up with the story lines for these serials?  Probably not, because that would be like insulting five-year-olds. 

It all started with Hum Log and Buniyaad.  Later, with the advent of cable-TV, rubber-band epics entered our lives.

There was one which declared 'because a daughter-in-law was also a mother-in-law once', the title sequence of which had a current politician invite you into a large house with an extended family.

Another purported to depict 'story of every house' - heaven help us if this is really the case.

Since then there has been a never ending parade of similar cheesy, gaudy, loud, stretched-out affairs flooding each of the entertainment channels.

Yes, initially there was a novelty factor: women cried buckets over the travails of Tulsi.  But if you have to eat baingan ka bharta 365 days a year then deliciousness quickly changes to 'pukishness'.

Each of these soaps begins with a specific theme: child marriage, widow re-marriage, women's lib, etc.  But if the TRPs rise:

• the producers milk the story line to stretch and modify it beyond recognition, with more and more implausible twists added in - carefully timed towards the end of the day's episode, so that interest is maintained

• newer and irritating characters are added on, existing characters made to disappear or die, only to resurface later, until you can't be bothered if the bahu eloped with her 2nd ex-flame, or the saas threw herself off the cliff  

It is also recommended that you disconnect your brain while involving yourself in these plots:

• a lover who was once thought to be properly bumped off, comes back with a new face - thanks to the wonders of plastic surgery, which strangely also alters his voice

• the vamp's attempt to poison the patni's juice with the contents of a bottle that is helpfully marked 'poison' is foiled at the last minute

• the gaudy makeup and dress changes each time the bua leaves the kitchen to go to the toilet

• the irritating camera pans repeatedly along with a thunder-clap on each of the 21 faces every time it is announced that the bahu's child is not her pati's

Some of the gems that I have observed over the years (when I had the misfortune of encountering these sublime moments during idle channel-surfing, or when the wife insisted that we watch what she wanted to watch): 

• pink uniform for nurses working in the NHS in UK (yeah, pink!)

• a matriarch who would be at least 150 years old by a rough estimate involving the ages of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren 

• and the classic - the good doctor who declares 'mubharakho... aapki beti ma bannewali hai' just by feeling the beti's pulse

Who watches these?  Bored housewives?  Entertainment starved 'desperates'?  Desperate housewives?  

What does it say about us?  Yes we like drama, with a little bit of tadka added... make that a lot of tadka.  

But these soaps take it to another level.  To the point of being regressive and retarded. 

Soap-fans appear to have an inherent tendency to look into the other person's life, into her intimate details, into her affairs, into her failures. 

Perhaps their inquisitiveness gets a daily dose of fulfillment with these K-serials.

I would rather watch paint dry.  Or, join my daughter in the adventures of Indian cartoon heroes.

Ah well... each to his or her own.   


Resources: 
Quote: brainyquote.com
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