Set somewhere in the late 80s:
3:30 in the morning:A bunch of juvenile good-for-nothings in their pyjamas and lungis hover around the magic box. Initially, it’s an indecipherable display of black-and-white dots and makes a loud noise. Then come vertical bands of colour, which make everyone hush in excitement. After an agonizing wait, the magic display starts. Two circular bands rotate around your screen, playing probably the most beautiful music in the world. Then suddenly, someone holds a cardboard sheet in front of the camera, displaying something to this effect: “Cricket Match (India vs xyz). Live from Melbourne (or Sydney/Brisbane/Perth/whatnot)”.
The cardboard moves slightly, but who cares. Then a presenter mumbles something indecipherable as you wish she goes away. She does, handing you over to Channel Nine. Richie Benaud greets you. Then ecstasy as Gavaskar/Shrikkanth/Shastri are visible on the horizon (No, they weren’t commenting. Once upon a time, these guys actually played the game). Moral of the story: You actually woke up at the unearthly hour to watch channel nine via Doordarshan.
If there’s one entity that could lay claim to converting cricket into epidemic status from a mere sneeze, it was DD. As someone in that era would vouch for, TV meant DD and vice versa. A few programmes were addictive, others passable, yet others object of silent ridicule. A few honourable mentions:
Krishi Darshan:
Shahrukh Khan, when asked for his favourite serial, never forgets to mention KD. Now DD started late in the evening (24 hr channels weren’t heard of then) and this was the first programme of the day. A TV starved nation watched as the presenter, who had probably just woken up or was going to sleep, or both, went on and on about agriculture. You were almost tempted to place a pillow behind the chair, wrap a blanket around the guy and sing a lullaby. KD was always omnipresent. It was like the ghost who you always knew existed but were afraid to talk about.
The News:
The most sacrosanct of them all, the News was presented by serious looking men and women who had to, well, deliver all the bad news. Was complemented later by a well-made hour-long cousin, “the world this week”, which made Prannoy Roy and gang achieve superstar status. The News was also an unlikely source of neighbourhood chat. While the menfolk discussed the pathetic state of the world in general, the womenfolk chatted about the lady presenter’s saree. Er, maybe even the menfolk did too…
Chitrahaar:
What would DD be without Chitrahaar? This, along with the Sunday feature film and the Tabassum serial (now what was it called?) was DD’s only concession to the hindi film industry then. The nation watched with bated breath as Amitabh Bachchan, Sridevi, Rekha, et al, took turns to sing and dance in your living room. A control freak would almost be tempted to say “naach, rekha, naach” (Dance rekha, Dance). You were in control. Sort of.
The Sunday feature film:
Highlight of the week, you got all the benefits of chitrahaar, with a storyline to contend with. The Nirma ad invariably interrupted the film, but was part of the whole process anyway. It was used extensively during elections (“washing powder nirma, xyz’s karma.” Here xyz=losing candidate) . I Remember once sitting through an out-and-out “art” film just because it had Amrish Puri and thought it would be, what we called, a “fighting picture”. Saagar was on the eve of the Xth board exams (SSLC in good old Karnataka) and one still managed to get a sneak peek of Dimple every ½ hr or so...
The serials:
May need a review for each one of them, but here’s a few: Hum Log (an epic), Nukkad (loved the antics of the gang), the Lucy Show/ Didi’s Show (hilarious), Different Strokes (ditto), Spiderman (then a favourite), Yeh Jo Hai zindagi, Idhar Udhar, Rajni, Karamchand, Buniyaad… It can go on and on. Of course, I’m referring to the pre-Ramayana and Mahabharata era, the real epics, when a Sunday morning meant nil traffic on the street.
Sorry for the interruption:
The name says it all. A sign stuck on cardboard (the electronic version came later) which was held by a nervous employee in front of the camera just when you thought Shrikkant was going to hit a six. This time you actually noticed when it shook. A few expletives were not uncommon...
This review was written in black and white by a biased and not-so-intelligent sorta kid (i.e, a flashback). I guess you have no option but to recommend a product when it’s the only product available. Hence the ‘recommend DD’ tag. If I’d have to write the review now- well.. you get the drift, what say?