7/11 Monologues --- remembering the day of serial blasts in Mumbai trains in 2006)

A.

Editor-in-Chief, New Delhi TV News Bureau

Can’t you afford me a moment’s respite to sip my coffee in peace?

I almost choked on the truffle cake, oh come on Gursheel gimme a break . . . I’ve taught you folks how to handle breaking stories . . . ah how my back ache is playing up again . . . tell Vidya to handle the call . . . what on earth could be so earth shattering that you guys can’t tackle . . . what does that Joseph chappie take me to be, his boss or butler . . . hey, hey come again you said a blast in a Bombay train?

My dear girl how stupid can you be . . . our reporter was on that very same train . . . that’s great . . . yes but off course transfer the line immediately . . . yes Joseph I’m all ears for you . . . oh gosh you said it ripped apart . . . no don’t panic, I’ll have the crew and OB van reach you in ten minutes precise and dare you move from that blasted site . . . meanwhile you pull yourself together boy . . . don’t panic I said, they’ll be right there . . . you know you’ve earned your place in broadcasting history through sheer accident . . . hey, hey Ghosh just run the news flash as I fix my tie . . . Joseph boy I said don’t panic maintain your cool . . . observe the details as I tie the knot . . . yes I’ll myself go right on air . . . wow we’re the first ones to make it . . . now hurry and look around . . . how many died do you presume . . . take a wild guess for I have to make a dramatic impact with the first breaking lines . . . oh come on Joseph it’s our duty now, no time for such sentimental crap . . . talk to Vidya while I rush into the studio . . . Gursheel get me Rajiv on the line . . . must brace myself for the next few hours . . . Ramu rush and get me my painkillers idiot . . . I’ll have to suffer the chair for god knows how long now . . . you fool unless it’s me how do we boost the TRPs . . . yes Rajiv I’ve got some rocking news . . . just shut your gob and listen to me . . . this is our day old boy . . . we’re the first to know and let the world know . . . yes while you dance your jig and inform shareholder’s and advertisers lemme puff my face and scamper to the anchor’s seat . . . what Gursheel . . . Rajiv I’ll talk to you later . . . what there was another blast . . . damnit transfer the line fast . . . Joseph I wish I could give you a hug . . . just stay put they’ll be there any minute . . . any head count yet . . . oh Vidya ask Gauri to jump off the chair, I’m almost ready . . . you stay on guard in my seat . . . oh by the way have the other’s yet got the whiff . . . Gursheel monitor all outgoing calls . . . make sure no one squeals to the Roy brigade . . . today at long last is My day . . . thank good lord for his divine ways . . . yes are you guys in the control panel ready to roll . . . make sure you scroll the exact figures on the teleprompter screen . . . and now we’re about to go on air . . . it’s show time folks as death stalks the air waves now . . . I thank you lord for making this come true for me . . . and now it’s time to dwell on national disaster that helps us hold our sway . . . tell all reporters in Bombay to rush to the other sites . . . I have a hunch there might me more . . . those darlings will not stop with just a singular blast . . . put all else on hold as I go on air . . . yes my time begins . . . shit were it not for my back ache . . . but that’s a blessing in disguise . . . the pain contorting my face will add to the gravity of the situation and yes now we go on air . . . good cheer to all as we ready ourselves for this battle now . . . it’s show time folks . . . this is Rajshekhar reporting live . . .

B.

Joseph, TV Reporter at Khar station

This is Joseph on the phone . . . we’ll soon bring updates and live images from the site as soon as the crew arrives . . . I was in the very same train . . . two compartments ahead was the first class bogey that blew up . . . I was returning home after my duty got over . . . I heard a thunderous sound and our train was coming to a grinding halt . . . people panicked and started scampering, some jumping out of the running train, others, trampling anyone who came their way . . . I barely managed to survive the stampede as the train ground to a halt and rushed out . . . there was pandemonium all around . . . billowing smoke from the compartment blown to shreds . . . people running helter-skelter . . . blood strewn bodies piled in heaps, blood stained passengers crying for help . . . no railway officers in sight as yet . . . though I too am hurt I have to stay put . . . it’s my duty . . . yes I’m the fortunate first to report this tragedy . . . no, not spoken to family yet but if they are watching this show they’ll know I’m safe for sure . . . unlike many others who are now left faceless . . . how will their family’s know . . . yes Rajshekhar I’ll remain on the show . . . to bring you updates by the passing hour . . . I’ve just heard Matunga too was not spared . . .

C.

Ganpat Rao, Tea-stall Owner at Matunga station

Ganpati Bappa saved me and my staff . . . one body flew right inside the stall making it all messy and bloody . . . such a tough time we had with no railway staff in sight . . . but my boys were brave . . . they packed the body in the gunny bag and dumped it at a corner . . . washed and cleaned . . . even rushed out with water to help the wounded . . .the jhopadpattiwallas rushed out with bedspreads made into makeshift stretchers to carry those half alive with severed limbs . . . some of them frisked the wounded and scooted with wallets and cell phones . . . but that is okay for they are the ones who rushed to hospitals . . .the place is now swarming with TV reporters . . . they even took my quote . . . what exactly I saw and heard . . . my family must be surely proud to see my mug on screen . . . I spoke well . . . hurled abuses at politicians and those rubbish, bribe seeking burping policemen who pay no attention . . . but my business is doing well as people are rushing in for food and tea . . . my cooks are working overtime, frying hot samosas, packing vada pau’s . . .

D.

Yahwant Tawde, Politico at Bhayender

Jai Maharashtra . . . those infidels have done it again . . . had it been Bala Saab’s reign none of this would have happened . . . this government is full of eunuchs with secular intent . . . given our ways we would have beaten the shit of out of them and driven these terrorists from the city long back . . . yet aamchi Mumbai will fight back . . . we’ll make sure these buggers will pay . . . Bhau is expected here shortly, he will raise a hue and cry and make sure the chief minister goes . . . be rest assured we Sainiks are here with you night and day . . . look at those jokers TV reporters running with their mikes . . . they make things worse showing our city in such poor light before the world . . . hey you there do you think I’m joking or what that you grin . . . are you one of them . . . brothers slap him on his face . . . don’t worry we are there . . . there’s nothing to fear . . . Bhau is on his way . . . called me on my mobile just now . . . Jai Maharashtra . . .

E.

Sheikh Jamal, Imam at Jogeswari

Point a finger at us is all they can do when their system fails . . . haven’t our brothers been blown up too . . . they just need an excuse to run us down . . . for all you know they might have done it themselves . . . weren’t they the ones who went on a rioting spell just a few days back when they themselves defaced a statue of their leader’s wife to create a communal strife . . . don’t you remember what they did to us in ’93 . . . our trouble is that we have remained silent too long . . . our leaders have failed to stand up for us . . . all this mess could be averted if they chose to stick to our laws . . . an eye for an eye is what those bastards deserve . . . tomorrow even the newspapers will point fingers at us . . . the TV reporters are already talking about Islamic hands . . .in our own country we are pariah dogs . . . these brigands make our lives hell . . . but brothers the time has come to retaliate . . . don’t take it lying down anymore . . . Inshallah . . .

F.

Amit Basu, Citizen at Lokhandwala

We sip chai and munch samosas as we see gory images of blasts that have occurred all around our city . . . the nearest one just about two kilometres away . . . we tut and hiss in effete anger . . . switch channels to see who provides better coverage . . . call friends who might have been on trains . . . safe in knowledge that all our known one’s have reached home or will shortly . . . we remain glued to TV . . . that is how immune we have become to terror . . . that is exactly how we have become immune to tragedy unless it strikes us down . . . that is how we have ceased to be concerned about anything anymore . . . do we deserve to be called human being when we watch with the same glee of a Roman mob at the gladiators battling out for their lives . . . we have truly donned the garb of barbaric citizens without any shame left in our hearts . . . the milk of human kindness has dried up absolute . . . even tear drops have simply evaporated . . . my twelve year old son is busy playing video games on my laptop . . .

G.

Maureen, Socialite at Colaba

I’m so sorry darling had to call it off at the last moment . . . these damn blasts I tell you will be the life of me . . . everything was arranged, even the orchids were in place . . . I’d planned this monsoon soiree in such detail . . . there was a surprise rain dance that I’d arranged on the terrace by the poolside . . . the champagne was being chilled . . . about that not to sweat, we’ll save it for the next week . . . it’s the caviar that that I worry about . . . had ordered generous portions . . . after all it was Percy’s big day . . . now he’s sulking in front of the TV screen nursing a brandy poor fella . . . all our friends are this side you know but then . . . such burbie monstrosity has left all of us in a tizzy . . . the Commissioner was supposed to attend along with Percy’s I.A. S friends . . . now surely they can’t for it will seem so politically incorrect . . . especially those prying TV journos forever snooping . . . it’s a crime to be well off in this blasted city . . . don’t fret Mona I have a swell idea . . . how about a kitty tomorrow . . . the lunch will be grand as it is ready. . . we’ll have a women’s ball . . . drink ourselves silly . . . I only hope the derby doesn’t get cancelled or such a waste . . . bought myself a swell chignon and glowing pearls to match . . . these TV news reporters tend to exaggerate . . . it’s soap opera for them you see . . . they never miss such a chance . . . but off course we’ll do the regular charity thingy . . . Mrs. Poonawalla just called to say that Sunday might be a good day . . . the Jogeswari slums and the K.E.M hospital. . . I’ve thought of getting the kids to organize a blood donation camp . . . that way they’ll eventually do something useful for society and we’ll get coverage . . . after all the mess my son did banging his car in a drunken stupour . . . thankfully for the blasts all such gossip will bite the dust . . . that’s the blessing . . .

H.

Sarita, Desperate Housewife from Borivali

He usually takes the Borivali fast from Churchgate at 6.10 sharp . . . I heard it first at 8 when a neighbour rushed to in to inform that she had seen the news of the blast on TV . . . I called him on his mobile instantly and my heart sank when it didn’t respond . . . I forced my brother in law to rush with me . . . we went to the station where there was a melee . . . I couldn’t enter the platform as it was cordoned off . . . the volunteers asked us to check the nearest hospital . . . we couldn’t find him there . . . oh dear God I only hope he’s still around . . . we’ve been running from one hospital to another throughout the night . . . yet no trace . . . what do I tell his father confined to bed . . . his mother I called home to find had fainted and my children one four one two have been wailing incessantly . . . God help me . . . I stand outside the morgue where they’ve left to rot several hands, limbs, heads blown to bits and mangled . . . how will I even recognise him . . . curse on me what am I saying . . . he must be somewhere around . . .maybe his boss held him back . . . but no one’s picking up the phone at office . . . what will I do . . . who’ll pay the EMI for the new flat . . . what wicked thoughts cross my mind . . . where do I go to find him now . . . my brother in law has been scampering even on railway tracks . . . where to now . . . it’s one at night . . . I shiver in the sweltering heat . . . the TV reporter now approaches . . .

The Travesty of Televised News

Let’s begin with a confession. I am addicted to the English News on television. Whenever I get the time, I try not missing the four leading English language news channels that I can flip between. I dearly hang upon each word spoken by the anchors, the spokespeople of various political outfits and sundry political and social commentators. I smirk when the anchors outsmart the wily politicians. When a few TV savvy politicians give it back to the anchors, I relish those moments as well. I also submit that the scope of the following observations is strictly limited to the broadcast of English language news channels in India. Hindi News telecast has reduced itself to such abysmal depths that it makes itself unfit for scrutiny in this space.

First and foremost, you have the ubiquitous anchors most of whom have made a mark as broadcast journalists. The top three channels have three of the most popular figures of broadcast journalism in the country, as `the face of their channel’. Interestingly, all three of them had surfaced in the first major English language channel and have the distinction of being groomed by the father figure of Indian broadcast journalism. They honed their craft under the tutelage of this benign father figure. Two of them chose to branch out and launch their own channels with the support of powerful media barons. One remained. All three of them are now considered `the voice of the chatterati’ and are granted privileged status, over their poor country cousins in the other news channels, by politicians and personalities alike. Between them, they vie for the breaking bytes from politicians and personalities. Everyday they compete to score their brownies by being the first to extract a quote from what is now termed as the `newsmaker of the day’. The distant fourth in this race of channel supremacy is a bunch of brats who have been launched in an English News channel by a prominent media group that has been publishing the leading political magazine in India and have earned the distinction of producing the first privately produced Hindi News in the country. Those brats are much younger, more irreverent and certainly more virulent. They think that is the only way their voice can be heard above the two bigger daddies and the one and only big mommy of news. Along with these prime players there are a bunch of ambitious `on the field’ reporters who aspire to adorn the chairs of these `anchor stars’ one day. Even in the face of grim tragedy, they push hard for that one byte that will be played as headlines through the day. Stardom is not a distant dream for these wannabes. These figures, both the primary as well as the secondary ones, constitute the first brigade.

These days all the major political parties, irrespective of their peculiar brand of politics, ensure they have at least one spokesperson, who is not only articulate in the English language but also a glib speaker, well versed in oratory and possesses the qualities of a virulent debater. They are either erstwhile Supreme Court lawyers, or ex/present day editors and journalists or party ideologues. They outdo each other by the sheer decibel level to which their voices can rise. The ruling party and the main opposition party also employ services of erstwhile public servants with a track record of public speaking. Till recently, one party had hired the services of a wily horse trader who excelled in arguing, using common place country bred wisdom though his pronunciation was scoffed at by the scotch drinking brigade. (Presently, he has been thrown out by his god father and speaks only for himself and his film star friends now). Some regional parties despite having established strong political presence in their home states are yet to acquire their own spokespersons well versed in the finer nuances of the English language and public speaking. They are the ones who are scoffed at and looked down upon rather condescendingly by their colleagues from other parties. This entire group constitutes the second brigade.

The third group comprises of a motley collection. There are newspaper journalists and editors who feeling slightly thwarted by the growing popularity their counterparts in news channels have readily jumped in to join the bandwagon. Their numbers are increasing by the day as more are falling prey to the lure of being a TV personality. Then they are these social commentators who have willingly abandoned their high horses for more popular appeal. Some have bartered the anonymous confines of academia for reaching out with their views, some find it an ideal platform to espouse their own brand of radicalism and there is even one who has virtually given up his peerage to make his fringy haired persona familiar with the chattering classes in India. There are also a group of social workers and activists who have found it more glamorous to reach out to drawing rooms rather than dusty court rooms and river beds, with their forever shrill speak.

These groups combine to form the face of English News on television in India. Each group has an agenda, hidden or apparent. They have to grab eyeballs for the survival of either the channel or the political party they belong to, or for their individual charisma. Their blemishes are easy to deconstruct and understand. Without passing a moral judgment, one can try to analyze the repercussions their presence has on the mindset of the educated urban middleclass. Though each channel has a distinct style of presentation, the methodology is similar. The ultimate aim is to boost TRPs at any given cost, no matter what that cost signifies in the larger social perspective. They simply need the numbers for survival. Or else, they run the risk of being labelled dodgy, arid and not being entertaining enough.

The mantra of news on television is infotainment. Everything from a political gaffe to a terrorist attack has to be presented in a way that ensures viewers remain glued to their television sets. It is intrinsic to the nature of this particular audio visual media. Dry facts do not engross a captive audience always hungry for either action or tamasha. A farmer committing suicide is not attractive enough without showing the gory details or how his widow cries and child howls. Even that is not as engrossing as a political heavy weight being ousted from a party and people from all walks of life commenting on it with either wit or rancour. It is fun to hear that byte. Without bite, any byte loses meaning. The need is immediate effect. The conversation is not engaging enough without its fair share of rabble rousing or humour or drama. Politics, economics, social malaise, national tragedy all need to be enacted to grab eyeballs. News on television is a reality show. It has to be pre-designed and packaged in a manner that looks attractive. This is the age of appearance. Hence, anchors, field reporters, commentators have to look telegenic. Even those from the political spectrum who do not fit standard definition of good looks have to either be too rancid or funny to warrant attention. A dreary looking person talking dispassionately about serious issues is both a boor and a bore. Serious analysis fetches the lowest TRPs and hence is shoved to non prime time space if at all that particular channel has any intention of focusing on it.

The troika of the English News anchor brigade make it a point to be acerbic and sardonic. They are forever ready to repartee. If they had not been so, they would not have climbed popularity charts. In their own way, they are stars of the space they occupy. One listens to them because they are brands unto themselves. The younger anchors of the channel that runs a distant fourth in the race have to shout and assert their presence to be heard. The haloed three have marketed themselves well simply by creating a fan base by blogging, tweeting and being omnipresent 24x7. Their hairstyles, scarves and ties are subject of discussion in the cocktail circuit. More than the news they tell, the emphasis is how they tell it and from where they tell. These two men and the sole woman are intelligent enough to feel the pulse and position themselves right in the midst of an action during moments of national crisis or tragedy. They will no longer confine themselves to the stolid confines of a studio when the momentous occasion arrives. Over a period of time, their mentor and the doyen of English News in India has fallen prey to this phenomenon and chosen to dumb himself down to boost TRPs of the channel he owns. When his protégé and now the co-owner of a rival channel throws in the gauntlet, he is ready to take it up and fight from his own turf. He was once considered sacrosanct, the `holy cow’ of news television. Unfortunately, he has given up that mantle to be a part of the rat race. So they present news that is smartly packaged with state of the art graphics. Their intention is not merely to relay information. They have to retell it dramatically to make an impact. They have to break news to make it newsworthy. Everything is turned topsy-turvy in order to create headlines. The staid news is for Doordarshan to tell. Their job is to create reality shows. News is a show where their role is of the emcee.

The politicos too, especially the spokespersons of various political parties, have become smart enough in their bid to outsmart their rivals on television space. The tardy politicians are forbidden by their bosses from opening their mouth in front of TV cameras for fear of ridicule. One such politician lost his job when he made an off the cuff remark during a moment of national crisis during a terrorist attack in Mumbai. Even an influential Chief Minister was given marching orders because he was seen visiting a venue where disaster struck with his film actor son and a maverick film maker. Political parties now ensure that no one speaks out of turn on television or is seen at the wrong place at the wrong time. Big brothers are always watching cautiously before any slob can open his mouth. In the current scenario only a handful of interlocutors are allowed to speak on behalf of the party. Usually these persons are professional lawyers or journalists with enough experience of doublespeak in public life. They debate jocularly, shout louder than their opponents and speak vituperatively but largely keep in mind the sanctity of the forum. Their line of logic and even the idiomatic expressions they use have begun to sound predictable and stale. Yet they manage to maintain the status quo on television.

The commentators are a varied lot. But they remain united by singular desire of making themselves heard on television. Whether they are senior journalists or social scientists or activists, all of them have allowed themselves to be allured by the transient glory of being recognized albeit for a few minutes on prime time. From an eminent Indian member of the House of Lords in Britain, to the editor of the revered newspaper from Chennai, to the vociferous activist of various causes ranging from saving a river to communal violence in Gujarat, they all jostle for attention in televised debates. The allure is simply irresistible.

In the sheer din of these assorted, clamouring voices, people on television often can not hear what they are speaking, leave alone ponder about what they have spoken. The moment is supreme. Making headway during a heated debate is of fundamental importance. Personalities no longer speak on television. They give bytes.

This reality is not exclusive of news being telecast on satellite channels in India. It is by and large a global phenomenon. However, in the western world, a tiny minority of public broadcast television still exists. Not in India. The only variant of public utility broadcast in India is Doordarshan which still presents news in a shoddy manner, largely toeing the line of the government in power and becoming its dull gazette.

This is not a diatribe against news channels that telecast news in India. These broadcasters have served the democracy in an admirable fashion and evoked huge interest among the urban middle class about ground reality. They have become arbiters of change. Much of what they do is indeed laudable. The truth is they reflect the times in which they flourish. Notions about popular culture have been completely redefined. Our society has created its own Frankenstein that it can no longer control. We have willfully chosen to ride a tiger. The effect is all pervasive. Even newsmakers like terrorists who strike, do so in a particular manner as they know that sort of an act with make the incident telecast worthy. It is a catch 22 situation. Newspapers too have reinvented their own idiom in order to survive. Simplification is the order of the day. This variety of spice is the official flavour of the times we live in. We can not afford to insulate ourselves any longer from the overall trivialization of life. We are a society in a state of flux. News presented on television merely reflects this phenomenon.

The best we can do is to ponder on it for a while before switching on the television set and getting sucked into this sopoforic universe.