Talking Shop: Didley Squat. Desi Rot.

“If you are not smiling,

mischievous, satirical

for some time every

day, you are (just) not

living. Laugh out loud.”

—Sandeep Sahajpal

Jeremy Clarkson led me to write this column. The host of ‘Top Gear’ and ‘The Grand Tour’, by far the most watched auto programs, ever, on BBC and Amazon Prime, respectively, is a class unto himself. But with ‘Clarkson’s Farm’ on Amazon Prime, Clarkson has outdone himself in his avatar as a humble farmer. It is prodigious to witness such metamorphosis in a man generally only seen behind the wheel of the most expensive cars in the world.

As a crofter at Didley Squat Farm in the UK, Clarkson dons overalls caked with mud and animal faeces, and trudges through piles of cow dung and pig waste, solemnly going about the business of tending to a farm that refuses to turn a profit. He takes rib-tickling yet powerful digs at British law and policymakers, with a simple intent — to wake up a nation to the deleterious impact UK’s antediluvian laws are having on farmers and the common man. It is invigorating to see fearlessness and light-heartedness hit a crescendo where even dash-a-click TV serials spread societal messages, questioning red-tapism and archaic legislation.

At home, this is unthinkable. Our TV content is farcical and a subterfuge, with even burning life issues not being talked about, betraying an absence of imagination, a lack of appetite for gumption and no freedom of expression. Misplaced virtues are propounded to push hidden agendas, garner mileage and stir unrest. Worse, fractured scripts are crafted by a conniving few, their below-the-belt shenanigans eventually making our nation a laughing stock in the rest of the civilized world. In this dim-witted quest of a few for fame, a nation is paying a heavy price by legitimizing ill-earned notoriety.

Cause for lament

The truth of the matter is that even Jeremy Clarkson, despite the classy innuendo and satire he brings to bear in his soaps to heckle and tickle with an intent to pickle, can’t quite make us forget ground reality or smile for long. That’s because admit it or not, content and public discussion are reflections of reality, now missing in India. Clarkson’s verbal thrusts end up being a grim reminder of how far we have slithered insofar as debates and programs (‘mindsets’) are concerned. What we are witnessing is a literal tumble from grace for our literary world and minds, once the cynosure of the world. Those who question this vein of thought should know that it is India that, four centuries ago, gave the world satire.

Few know that it was Emperor Aurangzeb who nurtured satirists and comics in India way back in the 1600s. Aurangzeb was such an aficionado, in fact, that when members of the Indian nobility once went to him and urged him to ban satirists, he told them he couldn’t — “I have got into a deal with them to leave me out of the jokes and not target me personally.” No favourite in the eyes of historians, Aurangzeb was never critical of criticism or backlash and is credited with creating far more than be destroyed. Let’s forget that he doesn’t anymore have a road named after him in Sir Edwin Landseer Lutyen’s Delhi.

Yes, satire was born in India, as were sarcasm, innuendo, paradox and raillery. But these erudite weapons have been blunted now, a sad transition from yesterday’s supremacy to today’s decrepit ways. The slide has been carefully crafted — with people made feeble and intentionally kept dangerously misinformed, leading to ignorance and hatred which are inexplicable, often bordering on the zany and scary.

Silence when it matters

That very same ignorance is why our content and debates have been vitiated to new lows — and in a nutshell, here are some examples of how we are stooping. Please bear in mind that we are not talking of the mainstream electronic media channels or news reportage, for that would open up a very messy can of worms altogether.

Here goes… a movie with culinary skills as the central theme is banned, pulled from OTT platforms because the protagonist follows the path of her ‘guru’ and prays in words of a different colour before cutting sides of mutton. A song in a film causes consternation when the scantily-clad leading lady is spotted sporting a dress in a hue unbecoming. Comics and cartoonists find their content censored to include only that which is deemed acceptable. Documentaries aired internationally are banned because the premise of the script is found unpalatable. Cinematically-pathetic movies are celebrated and extended pecuniary benefits just because they follow the given diktat.

Any content related to ground-level happenings near our borders is vetted and scrutinized, and muzzled if required. Leading news channels kill any coverage on the rousing welcome and bloody send-off accorded by the public at large to politicians when they canvas for votes in the Elections. A politician scurries away to Germany mid-way through the elections, leaving behind pen drives that contain graphic videos of alleged sexual exploitation by him of nearly 3,000 women. An under-license vaccine-maker goes into hiding after questions are raised internationally on the life-saving jabs themselves. There is next to no content on the death of a cricketer on the sports field or the heart attack suffered by a leading actor, both allegedly due to side-effects of the same vaccine.

In the process, more nails are slammed home to sound the death knell for credible content in a country that is anyway losing faith in what it sees and hears on television.

Long road ahead

It is going to be a long walk indeed, to set things literary on an even keel again; after all, what has taken 400 years to put out of pasture is not going to take roots and sprout green shoots overnight. A vilification that has taken so long to bring about will need at least a few years of concerted correction to get the ship sailing on its true heading again.

This indoctrination of an entire nation has led to the dubious achievement of creating a whole generation of Don Quixotes, as is being witnessed on the same deadly TV. Last week, protesting students from a Noida University were asked why they were doing so. Not only did the students have no clue, many of the wannabe graduates could not even read the slogans on the banners they were waving furiously. Over the weekend, another similar herd of near-graduates from a private varsity were asked questions on India’s political lineage. What is celebrated on January 26? “Independence Day” was the quick answer. Who was the first President of India? “Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru” was the equally pert reply. Scary.

Given the background above, an elixir is needed to bring about the most basic of knowledge and sensibility to our rank and file. Without basic understanding, acumen and a true soul, satire and its plumage are far, far away on the horizon. But walk we must, without falling prey to the intellectual prowess that Ben Johnson referred to sarcastically when he said: “Let them call it mischief. When it is past and prospered, it will be virtue.”

Admittedly, virtue may just be attainable by our masses and varsity students if they walk without further mental hiccups and stumbles. But a man with a red rose on his white lapel will never really appreciate being called the “first President of India”.

The writer is a veteran journalist and communications specialist. He can be reached on [email protected]. Views expressed are personal