Reflecting on my friend’s post, I too have certain things to convey regarding serials. And here I use the term in it’s raw form. No use calling it soap opera. No refining of any sort. SERIALS in bold. It needs an air of contempt and rage; imagine Lord Voldemort seeing harry from the dead and yelling ‘SERIALS’. That kind. And while my friend was hit with the not so gentle waves of Hindi serials, I was hit harder, knocked down and forcefully trampled upon by a more brute creature : Tamil and Malayalam Serials, where the gestation period of a pregnant lady is higher than that of an African elephant and where people have that amazing ability to swing their head – 180 degrees – three times continuously whenever they hear anything shocking or surprising – all this accompanied by idiocratic background music.
Yes my friend, if you are the one caught between the hell of Tamil and Malayalam serials, I know the feeling bro.
I am reminded today of the countless discussions between me and my sister, of hatching conspiracies on whom to kill. It was always the music director first followed by the big man, director and the producers and then moving on to the actors and likewise.
My grandma, over 80 years of age, is the trouble maker. I am no more less. We wrestle everyday for the remote control and usually the stronger one wins – in this case, my grandma roundhouse kicks me in the face and snatches the remote from my hands. And then resuming her calm posture, she’d set about breaking records in television watching. On one occasion, my parents found her sleeping in front of the tele and as my mother switched it off, her eyes shot open and she gazed at my mom with cold malice. (Now I know that some of you might picture my grandma as a dull angry old woman but I assure you she smiles beautifully rest of the time and in-fact gifts me an occasional kiss on my sweaty forehead. She is a cheerful optimistic person). I am however here not to talk about my grandma (Coming soon) but about the stuff that she watches.
Let me summarize my thoughts about serials. They are first and foremost dragging. In one place, a family is getting ready to attend a traditional temple celebration. The ‘getting ready’ part lasted for a week or two. In another, the heroine’s survival attempt of running away from her killers over a distance of 100 feet takes more than two days. You see what I am dealing with. Next is ‘overacting’. This can include their stupid facial gestures to those unbearable wails and cries. I know there are some out there who brand me ‘cynic’. To those people, I’d recommend to spend a few days in my home. (I’m pretty sure you’d prefer death afterwards). Then the inevitable music. I can’t stand the background music that they put in these serials. Ranging from the music copied and modified slightly from other sources (usually films) to the low budget music : men or women singing in chorus making tunes with the air from their mouth and from the back (if you know what I mean), these can give you your first migraine followed by severe depression.
Quite often I feel an urge to throw a brick through that idiot box. And whenever I come upon those rare creatures who declare gloomily that they do not have a television set, I immediately hit them on the face and run like hell.