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Reality TV
MAY 14 -
Whether the leaders know it or not and whether the viewers believe it or not, Nepali politics is Nepal’s top reality TV show. Politics is our cultural backbone. Without it, many a Nepali would have nothing to say at many a party. Remove the flare of politics and conversations would stagnate around the mundane issues of family, marriage and shopping. While the Nepali audiovisual cultural identity is completely intertwined with Bollywood and Indian soap operas, the only thing on TV that is strictly Nepali is its antiquated political news.
Ironically, for so long, politics is what brought us together, granting us a notion of national identity. Sadly for us, since its inception it remains badly enacted by egoists, sophists and gluttons. These character traits are in themselves not bad for pure entertainment value; after all, they have kept everyone on their toes. They’ve indoctrinated us in their politics and now pervade every aspect of Nepali being.
As a result, there are around a dozen Nepali channels of which most are news channels. This is unsurprising given that news and politics come pre-produced, is uniquely Nepali and can be easily manipulated. TV came to Nepal as a propaganda tool for the state, our privatised media industry follows suit by maintaining this non-objective standard of journalism. From the beginning, Nepali television companies have noticed their competitive advantage in delivering local news. The logic for this appears straight forward—competing for viewers against Shah Rukh, Preeti Zinta and the cheerleaders of the IPL would just require may too much time, effort and skill. Thus, there are no dedicated Nepali movie or sport channels. Instead, the progression seems to be towards sensationalising news to make it a C rate movie.
Nepali homes are flooded with the sights and sounds of the world thanks to over 500 cable operators. They fulfil our worldly entertainment needs. Those TV sets are our window into that untainted strain of modernity that makes us truly modern. Wait till the World Cup in June—I guarantee (even though stats will be unavailable) that it will be the most watched event in Nepali Television history. While it lasts, Nepali nationalism, ethnicity and regionalism will be subsumed in a host of multinational fervour. This is truly an experience of development—sitting at home and watching the best compete for the greatest prize in modern sporting history.
At no point in history have the Nepali people had so much access to information. But technology does comes with its own quirks, for in no point in television history have so many people watched ugly hairy men with such devotion, picking to watch them jingle instead of girls in bikinis. Since Nepal opened up, spirits of many kinds have since then been imported—none as bizarre as this. The guru of love, Ram Dev is a televangelist who has taken televangelism to the next level. He even has a cure to politics within his bag of holistic solution to our very Nepali problems. As an odd blessing for men, he has proven that you don’t need to look good to make the ladies swoon. None the less, it is sickening to see the commoditisation of spirituality and the indoctrination of the spiritually deprived.
No Nepali television producer can compete against the reality that is Ram Dev and Nepali politics. No teleseries can match the over two decade long epic of Nepali politics—it is a reality show par excellence. It has the power to hold us hostage and when needed, compel us to become players and participants. It has its own grand narratives—revolutions, massacres, riots, strikes, kings, and great leaders. The script took a somewhat surprising but eventually anti-climactic turn last week. But like all good shows, it made us forget who we were and compelled us to choose. We became Maoist, NC, UML, Dalits, Madheses, Newars, Chettris, Bahuns, rich, poor, upper class, lower class, intellectuals, retards, people, sheep, citizens and vigilantes—everyone had something and if you didn’t have anything you might as well have made something. The power of movies is to suspend reality and lull you to a numbing sense of belief and we willingly suspended our humanity and forgot we were Nepali.
Nepali politics used to be a soap opera—a bunch of egos colliding and arguing, lying and deceiving as they lurched onwards. That soap opera has turned into Big Brother, a reality TV show in which people live in a house disassociated from the outside world and hope to win a prize by not getting evicted during periodic votes. We in Nepal decided to include everyone in the house and call the programme the “peace process.” The show is now choking away towards its end. In TV lingo—it’s time to kill the show—its ratings have dropped, ads have dried and people are just not watching.
Let’s not forget, “peace process” was touted as the quest to write/find a small document that could establish world peace. That holy grail of Nepali politics seems to have lost its Indiana Jones. Instead, he has been replaced by the melodramatic couple of Hamlet and Draupati. To be or not be, to do or not to do—ponders Hamlet, while Draupati prays to a greater god to prevent her impending rape. In all this melodrama, the series has lost its punch and lost sight of its goals—it’s like Star Trek without space.
While the political scene resembles an agonizing serial, the political players have taken on to the latest Hollywood craze. They are all trying to be super heroes—vigilantes of justice and peace. Batman is perhaps the best example of a vigilante—one who fights crime outside the law because of the brutal murder of his parents. He fights for Justice. At the other extreme is Ironman—one who fights crime outside the law because he is rich enough to afford it. He fights for world peace. Our politicians have their own reasons for getting into politics but they should realise that real vigilantes take pseudonyms to appear cool whether they call themselves awesome or prime minister.
Posted on: 2010-05-15 09:13
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