(This article is from The Quint archives and was originally published on August 3 2016. It is being re-published following his decision to quit as Times Now and ET Now’s Editor in Chief.)
In the dark times
Will there also be singing?
Yes, there will also be singing.
About the dark times.
– Bertolt Brecht
If you thought journalists were sweaty pigs with solid golden balls fighting in the shadow of doom and desperate wages, armed with nothing more than cheap newsprint, think again.
It begins with the music, a mounting martial score, in step with which grim anchorsmarch to war, setting the agenda from which the nation must be saved. This is News as Reality Show. A Balaji-fied, Kyun Ki Saas Bhi-fied journalism which is dumbed UP to the level of popular soaps.
The Stars of News Television know how to make an opera of every privation or situation. One of the definitions of pornography is that which is lurid, purple. This brand of loud, chest-beating, table-thumping news is nothing if not pornographic.
Arnab Gaswami is the reigning world champ of this. For a TV anchor, he has the personality of an ambassador car, with thick glasses. Or an ‘80s Godrej cupboard, with thick glasses.
But Gaswami lifts dumb-bells with his vocal chords. And when the clock strikes Nine, and the moon is full, he hits India like a tempest on meth. It sounds as if a Nehru Place traffic snarl had loud sex with a Meerut bar brawl, and out came Noisehour. Naturally, what it lacks in depth, it makes up in decibels.
Super Prime Time Mega Maha Bash-A-Thon
The Noisome hour has re-shaped not just media, but time and language itself. Noisehour is actually two hours or however long Gas wishes it to be. He has souped up the superlative into a super superlative, like Super Superman, or Rajini Rajinikanth, and calls his show Super Prime Time Mega Maha Bash-A-Thon.
A TV-set potentate, he’s a wannabe Marvel comic character that saves the nation on week-nights. He calls it debate, it’s more like debase, since that’s pretty much what happens to anything on that show. Maybe he wasn’t hugged enough as a child.
Barkha Rani Jam Ke Barasti Hai
As in everything, there are stars, and then there is The One. Like Neo in Matrix, or Jesus in The Bible, we have Barkha in the news.
She is Amitabh Bachchan wrapped inside Mamata Banerjee in a sauce of Arundhati Roy, garnished with matte make-up and glowing with studio lighting. She is a storm of hands and words and mouth and eyes. Seeing her hyper-anguish, even the furniture facing my TV comes alive with angst, and online petitions automatically get filled.
Barkha believes she is an elemental force. On her Twitter profile she labels herself, `Cloudburst. Journalist… Barkha Rani Jam Ke Barasti Hai’. This is like taking self-confidence to Donald Trump levels. #Respect. Indeed, till recently, she was pretty much an entire TV channel in and of herself: BDTV.
When Priyanka simpers in the garden, she does it with Barkha. When Rahul grows a stubble in rural UP, he does it with Barkha. Likewise Sachin, Aamir, Deepika, et al. And even when India pulverizes the Pakis in Kargil, Our Lady of the TV is there to save the souls at the front (and promo the shit out of it for decades after).
Rulers of the Skies
News is what she reports. So what she reports is News. It’s a reflexive equation. Much like, India is Indira, Indira is India, the imagery and iconography between these two could kind of blur and blend.
And so Barkha and Arnab happily ruled the skies in an uneasy truce.
But Gaswami felt that his rage and flames were not quite working. So he got even more enraged and fanned the flames even higher.
Dropping all pretence of professionalism, he blatantly ingratiated himself with one party, aped the thugspeak of its goonsquad, and endlessly peddled the holy trinity of terror: Islam, Pakistan, Kashmir.
This even at a time when there were daily atrocities against Dalits, with full support of the ruling polity – which got nary a mention. Possibly because Dalits are not particularly TRP-genic. Muslim sub-nationalism, on the other hand, has a certain power dialectic, there’s an industry of fear there.
Finally Arnab turned on that which allows him to get away with doing what he does – he turned on his trade, asked for a clamp-down on anti-national colleagues, Barkha being a clear target.
Barkha’s cloudburst and Gaswami’s graphic flames are now at war. Steam rises. Visibility is lost. Hopefully saner voices will emerge stronger, though hoarse from trying to be heard.
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