P.S. I discovered this amazing
blog, www.delatheinker.wordpress.com,
and I think you should see it. Especially if I’ve annoyed you before. And even
if I haven’t, I assure you I will soon, so go and see it.
Now to what the crazy fairy left in
my room again.
*
Dear
Indian Television Series,
Namaste!
I
see you a lot nowadays. Sometimes because I want to, because in my rankings—and
everyone knows that counts for
something—British humour comes first, then Indian, then…the rest. Sometimes against
my will, because…I’m passing by the television set and you’re just…there! A lot.
On so many channels. You’re almost…inevitable now.
But
that’s not the problem.
I
do.
Whatever
it be, there are some things you need to answer.
Because unlike Leonard suggests I cannot
stick a coat hanger into my ear to scratch the itch in my brain.
Why
are you so slow? Why do you move so slowly? Why is your pace so glacial? Why do
things never happen fast with you? Why must one encounter spread over a couple
hundred episodes? Why is it, that in the period between Shalu making an
important revelation and Prem delivering a reply, I can cycle to the Panama
Canal, measure the distance between Tuscany and Rio with help from only two of
those cute fifteen centimetre rulers that always used to get missing when we so
badly needed them for Pre-Tech, get Drake to marry Madonna, and see Wenger lift
the World Cup?
(I
just had to bring up Wenger, didn’t I?)
And
the reactions! Why do we have to see everybody’s
reaction, one by one, like the story cannot progress without me viewing
Malhotra’s (and Raj’s, and Maya’s, and Opash’s, and Suriya’s) jaws drop because
Shanti (is Shanti an Indian name? It is? Okay) said she’d rather go to Sanford
than Mumbai University?
See
what I did there, said pretty much the same thing in about a thousand
sentences? Has the message hit you yet? How you
say the same thing in a thousand sentences? Word! It’s absurd. You can go
on, and on, and on, and on, and on, (so much that right now I’m going on with you. Let me add one ‘and
on’ and be done with it) and on (done!) about the same thing, when the point
has been made already. You do realize that people speak in words, right, with
occasional full sentence and the rare paragraph. But the characters that walk
about in you, they go on for chapters. I
could try to teach martial arts to under-six-year-olds and succeed sooner than
Usha finishes telling Sameer her piece of mind.
Your
names are so nice though. Or maybe it’s your clothes. Mm.
And
why is it so hard for you guys to end? Goodness. I don’t think I’ve ever
watched any of you to the end (but then…it’s not much of my thing to follow series.
Still counts as a valid point). I Googled one of you and it went over six
hundred episodes. Six. Hundred. Episodes. Why? Why will you chain someone in a
roller-coaster for six hundred hours, and if it was a comic roller-coaster that
would not be as lethal, but it’s a romantic/suspense/glacial/you could quicker
watch a horse morph into an elephant roller-coaster? Why do you continue to introduce
plot twist, after plot twist, after new story, within same old story, when we
see that the series has reached its end and it won’t be such a bad thing to let
viewers go so they can catch up with reality and make some money so plantain
won’t be as expensive as it is now?
(Because
the price of plantain is a big deal
now.)
Please,
with all the humility I could muster from all the other fairies around (because
this fairy has no humility to offer
you herself), I ask you to reply. Fast. I don’t want to have to wait for Neptune
to be proven a habitable planet before you send the reply. Because if you do
that, you’ll address it to this place. Earth. And I won’t be here. Oh, no. I’ll
be in another place. Another orbit. Playing holographic chess with the prince
of Neptune. Who’ll be my son. Because…put two and two together.
Okay.
I’m done.
Do
I say ‘namaste’ now too?
Signed,
Hysterical…just keep posting them.
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