Without much ado, I will get straight to the point. There was an extremely intriguing segment on Star News today. Intriguing because it set my grey cells working overtime. For a long time now, I’ve been wondering where Indian media is headed. 24-hour news channels have been sprouting with much intensity. The heat is on. Being the media-enthusiast that I am, I want to know what is the future of journalism and quality reporting.
This piece that I am talking of was the story of a 16-year old girl, Akanksha. Hers was an absolutely shocking tale of the death of all four members of her family. Fate has been playing this dirty trick for the entire length of her teenaged life. Even more soul-stirring was the fact that her father, mother and both her brothers had all committed suicide. Needless to say, she is shattered.
Unfortunately I saw only part of the news report and therefore, know nothing more. But what I do know is that the channel had brought in a doctor to analyse her mental state. Their efforts were directed towards boosting her morale, giving her some emotional support and hence, helping her cope with this awful tragedy. Among other things (which I missed), they had a comedian from a popular comedy show (currently on air) talk to her, trying to make her smile and lift her spirits. And smile she did.
Before I comment on the nuances of the report from a critical viewpoint, I’d have to admit that the novelty of the channel’s attempt is commendable. It slices straight through the heart.
What worries me is exactly that. It is a story heavily laden with emotions. It is about the girl’s mental state and that which must be treated with utmost care. The story surely qualifies as superb “human-interest”. I am concerned whether in this vicious war for scoops, the channels understands what it has done. It taken upon itself, a gargantuan responsibility – that of a human life. I hope they know what they are doing because while there is nothing wrong in trying to make a girl laugh and smile, they must realize that Akanksha’s case is extremely delicate. It is working on her emotions. God forbid if anything goes wrong.
If only somebody would tell me… then I could rest in peace.
Journalism, today, has become a play of time. We are talking seconds and fractions here. All channels can spring up new ideas but the real test is who executes it first. And this is the thin line that distinguishes a Hot Scoop from routine news. Competition is bringing the media closer and closer to the masses. Not only is it about making news reach more and more numbers in the furthest corner of the country, but also about taking stories from these very “once communication-deficient” districts and regions.
There are the disadvantages too, like that of lack of verified and complete information, and display of unconfirmed data. The menace of a bias has long tainted the media and continues to do so. It has translated even to our camera-sporting, location-hopping brethren.
At this juncture, I have only a word of caution. Whereas the spirit of the freedom of speech and expression has been extended to newer pastures, there rests a heavy responsibility on the media. It is accountable not only to its viewers but also to the people in the stories. After all, it is not just a story; it is the question of a life.
Saturday, August 04, 2007
Shade, Shadows and Stories
The monsoons may be a late arrival this year but the umbrellas have been promptly retrieved from the closets. And they are flying high, bobbing up and down, beating to the rhythm of men and women on roads and pathways.
Coloured in vibrant and sometimes, not-so-vibrant tinges (also those boring blacks), each umbrella has a story to tell. There are lives of people; rich, poor and the ones in the middle. Sometimes the faces are hidden deep in the shade; sometimes they face the world sheltered from the skies and the pitter-patter of the rains. A story there always is. A tale… a life.
There is my mom who tries so hard not to get her umbrella wet. Such is her fanfare that there is always someone to open their own for her. And truly, even the heavens, the clouds seem to belong to her camp. It hardly rains when she is out!
Yesterday, there was a man walking homewards with an undersized rainbow-coloured thing. Now, this was one of those small umbrellas made especially for young kids. Hardly a match for the downpour; the poor soul got soaked inspite of all his efforts. Who knows, probably, his daughter chose to take her daddy’s Biiiiiiiiiiiiig umbrella to school for a change, and daddy had no choice but to make do.
Then there was the hip, young, stubble-sporting guy with what a rocker of an umbrella! In multiple hues, it was a show-stealer. In the evening peak-hour crowd too, one couldn’t have missed it. Even with closed eyes. If umbrella were categorized in sizes, this would be mega – it could easily give refuge to an entire battalion. Make way people, for the attention-seeker. Through some astronomically baffling calculation, the umbrella and the proud owner seemed to suit each other to a tee.
While these were stories beneath the umbrella, sometimes the umbrellas themselves are THE stories. In life, we carry our umbrellas with us. Through the different phases, we face each situation and with each of these, we either don our umbrellas or decide to shed them. Various unspoken decision we take, at different turns in the cycle of life – to keep mum for the happiness of a loved one or to speak out to save the situation. The introverted emerge from beneath their covers with utmost care. Whereas for an extrovert, life is about open skies.
We change and adapt according to circumstances. At times, we are bowed by the obstacles and the trials we face. Fear makes us hide, holding us back from the rainbows of the world. Often, we forget that we might after all have the potential.
Life’s too short to be cowed down. Lift the umbrella of fear, worry, anxiety and the sun with its warmth would reach out to you.
Why be scared of the rain at all? In the worst case, you’d only get wet! How bad can that be?
Coloured in vibrant and sometimes, not-so-vibrant tinges (also those boring blacks), each umbrella has a story to tell. There are lives of people; rich, poor and the ones in the middle. Sometimes the faces are hidden deep in the shade; sometimes they face the world sheltered from the skies and the pitter-patter of the rains. A story there always is. A tale… a life.
There is my mom who tries so hard not to get her umbrella wet. Such is her fanfare that there is always someone to open their own for her. And truly, even the heavens, the clouds seem to belong to her camp. It hardly rains when she is out!
Yesterday, there was a man walking homewards with an undersized rainbow-coloured thing. Now, this was one of those small umbrellas made especially for young kids. Hardly a match for the downpour; the poor soul got soaked inspite of all his efforts. Who knows, probably, his daughter chose to take her daddy’s Biiiiiiiiiiiiig umbrella to school for a change, and daddy had no choice but to make do.
Then there was the hip, young, stubble-sporting guy with what a rocker of an umbrella! In multiple hues, it was a show-stealer. In the evening peak-hour crowd too, one couldn’t have missed it. Even with closed eyes. If umbrella were categorized in sizes, this would be mega – it could easily give refuge to an entire battalion. Make way people, for the attention-seeker. Through some astronomically baffling calculation, the umbrella and the proud owner seemed to suit each other to a tee.
While these were stories beneath the umbrella, sometimes the umbrellas themselves are THE stories. In life, we carry our umbrellas with us. Through the different phases, we face each situation and with each of these, we either don our umbrellas or decide to shed them. Various unspoken decision we take, at different turns in the cycle of life – to keep mum for the happiness of a loved one or to speak out to save the situation. The introverted emerge from beneath their covers with utmost care. Whereas for an extrovert, life is about open skies.
We change and adapt according to circumstances. At times, we are bowed by the obstacles and the trials we face. Fear makes us hide, holding us back from the rainbows of the world. Often, we forget that we might after all have the potential.
Life’s too short to be cowed down. Lift the umbrella of fear, worry, anxiety and the sun with its warmth would reach out to you.
Why be scared of the rain at all? In the worst case, you’d only get wet! How bad can that be?
Ready-Set-ROCk!
I was out this morning. The weather was cool, the previous night’s downpour reduced to a light shower but with a promise of more rains through the course of the day. Some may find such a day gloomy, but for me it just works wonders. The slight drop in temperature adds to the stretch of my smile.
I was waiting for an acquaintance outside a shopping centre in one of the many housing complexes that have cropped up in not more than a span of merely five to six years (that’s how long I’ve been in Thane). To guide your imagination better, just imagine a line of shops extending to a distance of about 30 metres. At 9.00 am, only one or two of these were open for the day’s business. The rest were shuttered fast, awaiting the appearance of their respective owners.
One such utterly inconspicuous store stood just in my line of sight. Its billboard introduced me to “Dolly Furnitures”. And, sheltering below the tin roof outside were seven jet-setting youngsters. They were adorned in the hues of adolescence – tees, jeans and attitude.
With nothing more interesting to occupy myself, I prayed that the minutes moved faster. You would agree, waiting is not a very pleasurable activity, neither intellectually stimulating nor fun by any means. (There may be some who may wish to dissuade me from this line of thought, with their poetic notions of a lover prancing about Coffee Day’s, wishing his/her counterpart arrives. There is a sense of beauty in that, one might argue. But Messrs and Madams, that is besides my point.)
Initially, this swish set of collegians interested me none too much. I simply presumed they were thronging the place after or before some “classes” just as ants would, around a picnic hamper. I let my eyes wander so as to take in some more sights and sounds. Just then, my eyeballs did a double-take. Well, what I saw was a party-of-sorts in progress amidst this huddled-bunch. Closer inspection revealed a birthday cake and a few other knickknacks to munch and glug!!!
Pictures were being clicked. Fingers dug into the creamy layers of the cake and smiles played on all the youthful faces. Who would have thought of something like this in a place like that? But the enthusiasm of the scene seemed to belittle this matter of concern.
It hardly matters. Whether the footpath, Mumbai’s suburban rather-packed station or one of the Taj Hotels… the perfect ingredients for a perfect time (yea yea, I mean rocking time) are simply a bunch of loving friends. What more can one ask for?
Most of us would agree to that.
(As for the birthday girl and her pals... Long live the spirit and god bless them all.)
I was waiting for an acquaintance outside a shopping centre in one of the many housing complexes that have cropped up in not more than a span of merely five to six years (that’s how long I’ve been in Thane). To guide your imagination better, just imagine a line of shops extending to a distance of about 30 metres. At 9.00 am, only one or two of these were open for the day’s business. The rest were shuttered fast, awaiting the appearance of their respective owners.
One such utterly inconspicuous store stood just in my line of sight. Its billboard introduced me to “Dolly Furnitures”. And, sheltering below the tin roof outside were seven jet-setting youngsters. They were adorned in the hues of adolescence – tees, jeans and attitude.
With nothing more interesting to occupy myself, I prayed that the minutes moved faster. You would agree, waiting is not a very pleasurable activity, neither intellectually stimulating nor fun by any means. (There may be some who may wish to dissuade me from this line of thought, with their poetic notions of a lover prancing about Coffee Day’s, wishing his/her counterpart arrives. There is a sense of beauty in that, one might argue. But Messrs and Madams, that is besides my point.)
Initially, this swish set of collegians interested me none too much. I simply presumed they were thronging the place after or before some “classes” just as ants would, around a picnic hamper. I let my eyes wander so as to take in some more sights and sounds. Just then, my eyeballs did a double-take. Well, what I saw was a party-of-sorts in progress amidst this huddled-bunch. Closer inspection revealed a birthday cake and a few other knickknacks to munch and glug!!!
Pictures were being clicked. Fingers dug into the creamy layers of the cake and smiles played on all the youthful faces. Who would have thought of something like this in a place like that? But the enthusiasm of the scene seemed to belittle this matter of concern.
It hardly matters. Whether the footpath, Mumbai’s suburban rather-packed station or one of the Taj Hotels… the perfect ingredients for a perfect time (yea yea, I mean rocking time) are simply a bunch of loving friends. What more can one ask for?
Most of us would agree to that.
(As for the birthday girl and her pals... Long live the spirit and god bless them all.)
Sunday, July 29, 2007
The Point of No End
(To my dearest pals, Soul"media"mate and Whiff of Fresh Air)
I ne’er knew
What I was missing
Until I had met you.
The realization didn’t dawn
Upon me even then.
But now, when you are away
I feel the pang,
The heart misses
Those remarkable moments
When you showered me
With dazzling sunshine.
I know, you would say
Proximity has nothing to do with it.
Why bother,
When our souls are connected so
that we can even hear
the hearts beat.
Our fervour never dies,
The spirit always flies
For, friends we will be
Till our mortal selves perish
And even beyond.
And so I say,
Keep the faith.
Live it up,
Do not fear the end
Coz’ to our kinship… Our friendship,
THERE IS NO END.
I ne’er knew
What I was missing
Until I had met you.
The realization didn’t dawn
Upon me even then.
But now, when you are away
I feel the pang,
The heart misses
Those remarkable moments
When you showered me
With dazzling sunshine.
I know, you would say
Proximity has nothing to do with it.
Why bother,
When our souls are connected so
that we can even hear
the hearts beat.
Our fervour never dies,
The spirit always flies
For, friends we will be
Till our mortal selves perish
And even beyond.
And so I say,
Keep the faith.
Live it up,
Do not fear the end
Coz’ to our kinship… Our friendship,
THERE IS NO END.
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