A royal affair of sorts

I have three words to describe the events of 29 April 2011. Oh my God! Sure they got married, sure they are the future king and queen of the United Kingdom and sure it was a bank holiday (thank you for that BTW). But by golly! Did the TV channels take it upon themselves to make sure not one soul on this planet with a television or even access to a television gets to see this extravaganza.

I am not here to comment on the wedding, its lavishness or the craze surrounding the affair (OK, maybe I will comment on the craze, it is after all, too tempting to pass up!). I will instead draw parallels (or, rather, lack of parallels) to my own wedding, which as you may recall, was a pompous and much celebrated affair of equal magnificence, albeit restricted to the town of Chidambaram. You see, I think my wedding was a touch more grand. I am not delusional, nor am I conceited. I state facts here. Only facts. Here's why:

• Kate rolled up to her wedding in a rather old looking car. It may have been a custom modified Rolls Royce, but to quote my mother, "she is coming in an old car only, can't they afford a newer, more luxurious car?" I on the other hand rode into my wedding in a horse drawn carriage. Not one horse, but two horses drew said carriage.
• What's more, poor William was already situated within the Abbey when Kate arrived. I had the pleasure of picking up milady and riding to the wedding hall with her (you see, the old Rolls had no space in it to accommodate Wills). How romantic was that!
• All Kate had on their way to the Abbey was crowds of people cheering and shouting. I, on the other hand, had fireworks, crowds, traffic, dancers, James Band, friends and relatives leading me to the hall, surely you can't beat that!
• Their wedding started at 9:51am on 29 April 2011 and all proceedings will be complete at 2:50pm on 29 April. Mine, on the other hand began at 6:00pm on 6 December and finished at 1:30pm on 8 December! You cannot deny that a longer celebration is a bigger celebration!
• The church had pin drop silence when the wedding was going on, meaning the slightest noise could have potentially disrupted proceedings. At my wedding, you could have exploded a bomb outside the hall and it wouldn't have been heard, for the noise level inside the hall was significantly higher than a jet plane at full blast.
• Most importantly, when the priests prayed to the Lord to bless the couple, everyone could understand what the Lord was being requested to do. At my wedding, considering all chants were in Sanskrit, not one soul knew what sort of deal was being struck with our multitude of Lords for our well being. It is a well known fact that a secret, undecipherable message is far more exotic than an open and understandable one.
• Even more importantly than the most important point, although the world at large knew these folks were getting married, not one poster or banner marked the occasion. It is a well known fact that my and milady's photographs were plastered all across Chidambaram just to announce this! 

As I have undeniably proved above, my wedding was better than one fit for a king! So there.

Now for the crazies. 

Watching the invitees flock into the venue, one trend just could not be ignored. All men were in uniform, not of the ceremonial kind, but of the fashionable kind. They all wore dark suits/tuxedoes, white shirts, bows and polished black shoes. To boot, they all had sorry..er, solemn looking faces like they were going to watch someone beat a puppy. The women on the other hand, all wore elegant gowns and dresses that set off their looks like nobody's business, however, for some reason, it seemed to me that they were all pulled through a hedge of some sort on their way to the Abbey, what with the fancy "hats" they wore! I mean, a hat that looks like a set of antlers doesn't really qualify as a hat does it? Just a sample for your viewing pleasure:

Talk of analysis, the BBC commentator actually got emotional about the fact that Kate was wearing a particular designer's dress and that quote it was a proud day for fashion unquote. 

And the bets! God the bets! Will it rain, will Kate wear this designer's dress or that, will Will kiss Kate on the cheek or lips when they appear at the palace! Come on!!

All said done, here's wishing the young couple a long and happy life as a couple! Like their vows said, may they be together till death do them apart!

Look! On the TV, is that a show? No, it's a megaaaa serial!

The folks were visiting. Which can, among other good things, mean one thing. Soaps. Not the kind of soap that scrubs away at dirt to leave you squeaky clean, but the kind that scrubs away at your soul and leaves you torn between wanting to kill the villain, the hero, the director and/or yourself. Also fondly referred to by the apt moniker, mega serials. They truly are mega and run for years. What's commendable is that they are run for anywhere between 2 to 5 years on a wafer thin story line that changes and takes u-turns at the drop of a hat. Not u-turns of the '24' variety, but u-turns never-the-less.

These soaps thrive on stereotypes. The protagonist, usually a youngish woman is down trodden, abused and considered inferior to the man. Add a stereotypical mother-in-law, a rude sis-in-law, lousy husband, a lousier father, abusive mother and you have the template for virtually every  soap on every channel. For variety and garnishing, you can change the name of the character, the type of torture inflicted on the poor sod who stumbles into this family and the thought is that a riveting program has already taken shape - in the writer/producer's head at least. All that remains is addition of the constant drone of background music and  repetitive dialogues with random sound effects and the producer is assured of a 5 year-seems-like-a-25 year contract with any channel. Humour and banter do not exist in this paradigm, the only thing that matters is to inflict as much pain and sorrow on the heroine as possible to still allow the program to be broadcast before the watershed timings.

I have only one question to the fine folks behind all this suffering. Why this kolaveri?

I mean, is it too much to ask if I want to come back from a long day at the office, plop onto the couch and let the idiot box take me away to a place that is joyful? After spending upwards of 8 hours fighting battles at work, I really do not want to solve problems for anyone other than my own family members. I really, really don't.

Why is it that there is not a single soap in India that has happiness/joy/comedy as its main agenda? Does that mean nobody in India is happy? I seriously doubt it. Or is it that only sorrow can be stretched and stretched until eternity?

I hate comparisons, but the mind simply cannot ignore sitcoms like MASH, Friends, Everybody Loves Raymond, King of Queens, Big Bang Theory, Rules of Engagement etc., that made people laugh for years on end and continue to delight generations. Sure, there were sob fests like Bold and Beautiful, Sex and the City etc at the other end of the spectrum, but the important thing is that there was choice. If I choose to laugh watching Indian serials, I can only laugh at the abusrdity of the situation facing the heroine who is crying up a river!

While on topic, I also suppose I should whinge a bit at the dialogue writing. Consider this situation:

The herione is contemplating the actions of the lousy husband, unable to believe why he did what he did and is doing so in the midst of her friends (3 in number).

I will now attempt to write dialogue the dialogue the way I urge do the magnanimous thing and look beyond my poor dialogue writing skills and focus on the message, try and be the bigger man/woman/child in this case.

• Normal/comedy soap

Heroine: "Why did that lousy son-of-~*@"h did that? Why? Why? Why?"
Friends: *shrug shoulders* "Maybe he was pissed with you or something?"

• The megaaaa-serials

Episode #1:
Husband does what is to be whinged about.

Episode #2:
Herione wistfully thinks of what he did, which includes a detailed flashback of what happened, return to Episode #1.

Episode #3:
Heroine meets friend number 1 and remains wistful. Friend #1 asks her "Why so glum chum?" Heroine recounts what happened. Flashback ensues, return to Episode #1. Heroine finds recollection too much to digest, sobs a bucket load of tears.

Episode #4:
Heroine meets friend number 2 and remains wistful. Friend #2 asks her "Why so glum chum?" Heroine recounts what happened. Flashback ensues, return to Episode #1. Heroine and Friend #1 find recollection too much to digest, sob a bucket load of tears. Viewers mop their moist eyes.

Episode #5:
Heroine meets friend number 3 and remains wistful. Friend #3 asks her "Why so glum chum?" Heroine recounts what happened. Flashback ensues, return to Episode #1. Heroine, friend #1, Friend #2 and viewers find recollection too much to digest, sob a bucket load of tears.

Episode #6:
Heroine recounts what happened. Flashback ensues, return to Episode #1. Heroine then asks Friend #1, "Why did he do that, Friend #1?" Friend #1 has no response to provide, no answers to give, so cries some more.

Heroine then asks Friend #2, "Why did he do that, Friend #2?" Friend #2 has no response to provide, no answers to give, so joins Friend #1 and cries some more.

Heroine then asks Friend #3, "Why did he do that, Friend #3?" Friend #3 says, "Maybe he was pissed with you or something?" and finds that too difficult to digest so cries, all of them cry for 5 minutes not able to comprehend why a husband would be pissed with the perfect herione.

Viewers begin playing with a loaded revolver.

See how subtle plot variations and changes to story were incorporated? See how the serial was run for an entire week and the viewer didn't even notice that happening? I can hear the producer laughing all the way to the bank. "Lousy Englis fellows," he thinks, "don't know how to make money!"

It's a good thing gun licensing is very strict and controlled in India, everything happens for a reason.

IMHO, though, the biggest winner of them all are the glycerine companies. Last I heard they were raking in profits from supplying the 'tears' to the producers of mega serials.