A Bad Habit Called A Reality Soap

Years ago, when I started watching the “Bold and the Beautiful” and got unexpectedly hooked onto it I hit upon a slick explanation. I happened to be in Germany at the time and even I began to believe that the reason I was offering to others for the pains I took to organize my lunch break (if not my entire morning) around this truly moronic soap opera set in California was because I wanted to improve my working knowledge of German.

Never having known me to speak anything but the truth (especially when I’m a bit high on whiskey or red wine) people believed me. Of course. The same way that I know you are now going to believe me when I tell you that the only reason I’ve been glued to this reality show on Zee Marathi for the past several weeks, a dance competition featuring a host of ambitious young contortionists, is that it’s my way of bonding with the maid whose usually surly mood gives way to giggles and chatter while big and small bodies fly, jump and skitter across a glittering, discofied stage. Friends who occasionally stay overnight on a Wednesday or Thursday have gently pointed out to me that they’ve seen me watch the show even when S is on leave, to which I respond that it is actually to improve my working knowledge of Marathi that I sit up glued to the idiot box, in the interests of establishing better rapport with S, with whom my relationship hits an abysmal low from time to time. Oh well.

All I can say is that within a short spell of time I went from not knowing who the hell Sachin Pilgaonkar was to looking forward to chuckling over his deity pose during the entire show. Like all fictitious soaps, what I call “reality soaps” too are about highs and lows, about heartaches and happiness and you get to almost feel that the guy who just danced like spiderman suffering from manic convulsions, and whose act was followed by choice titbits from his childhood offered by his beaming parents, is someone you’ve known for the last fifty years (even if the guy happens to be only eighteen).

And so over a period of time I got to know Sadrick (yes that’s how he spells his name I believe) and Sukhanya and their dance guru Phulva, and Ajinkya and a host of others whom I would have been so happy to invite to tea on a Sunday evening (which is a safe thing to think about since this is an activity I never indulge in anyway). Sachinji, or Mahaguru as he likes to be called, presiding over the whole spectacle, self important smiles and all somehow – and most unexpectedly - wormed his way into and ensconced himself in a corner of my heart without my intending to let him in.

All of this brings me to a pertinent question, which is, why the hell am I writing this piece! It is not to criticize reality shows as such. If I wanted to criticize anything I would bring the hammer down on the works, the entire entertainment industry of today including the ad world and all its pretensions. But then, neither do I want to defend reality shows. That would be even worse than raging against them.

No I am actually wondering what it is that hooks people like me onto the most soppy TV soaps and the most ridiculous reality shows which make you laugh for the wrong reasons. We can forget about quality. We can forget about the deeper perspective. Forget just about everything and you’re left with something like habit. Addiction. Smoke a cigarette on three occasions and if you’re unlucky you become a smoker for life. Same goes for alcohol, for drugs, for anything, even the people you marry. You often don’t live with the person you’ve married out of love or respect for your partner. You can’t get away because you’re addicted. Addicted to what they offer you, to their presence, whatever. A partner or anyone you live with often becomes a bad habit. And a bad habit is hard to shake off.

I should consider myself lucky in terms of Eka Peksha Ek. Soon it will come to an end. The winner will be felicitated with much fanfare this coming Sunday, and people will laugh, cry, congratulate the winning candidate, commiserate with those who didn’t make it and everyone will go home feeling like something important just happened. I sure as hell will miss old Sachin but on the other hand, the end of the series will free up two of my evenings again, to read, to listen to music and do other stuff which is currently on hold. I’ll be even able to watch some good TV programs for a change, maybe - such as a film on the mating rituals of whales or killer ants on Discovery Channel. Only till the next silly soap or reality show turns up of course.