Friday 10 August 2018

Kerala floods: What Arnabs of the world can learn from Malayalam media

The day after Nipah virus outbreak was confirmed, the Malayala Manorama reported it on the frontpage, and set aside an inside page for the dos and don’ts. Sitting in Delhi, I felt the coverage wasn’t enough, felt I needed to know more. I was anxious about my relatives and friends in Kerala. Should they be wearing masks, should they stop eating fruits altogether or just mangoes. The coverage felt incomplete and I tweeted my disappointment.

Weeks later, the virus was contained, the casualty too was minimum. The role of the media was commended by the state government, it didn’t whip up hysteria. A friend here told me, had it been Delhi-based newspapers and TV channels, we would have seen huge photos of bats dripping blood, journalists wearing safety suits reporting kilometres away, yet claim to be the first channel on ground zero, graveyards recreated, etc, etc.

Malayalam TV channels which are normally fond of drama surprisingly pipe down when such grim news breaks.

Take for example the floods in Kerala. For weeks media was speculating on when the Idukki dam shutters would open, many had camped outside the dam 24/7. Trolls had a field day. Nearly one week after the vigil began, one of the trolls commented “If the govt doesn’t open the shutters, the journalists will.”

A Manorama TV anchor was trolled for showing where all Periyar flows through before reaching the Arabian Sea on Google map. This time the trolls said, “Periyar will decide its course after checking with Manorama office.”

And when the shutters were finally opened on Thursday, gone was the exuberance. Reporting has been factual, no one is creating panic, there might be odd incidents, nobody can be perfect all the time.

My family in Delhi is surfing Malayalam channels, many of our relatives live in areas prone to flooding, but I haven’t called anyone in Kerala even once. The coverage of the floods in Kerala has been reassuring, why panic when there is no need to. Yes, it’s a disaster, the government, political leaders and citizens are dealing with it the way it should be. Be patient, this too will pass.

How would Delhi-based channels and newspapers cover the news if this were to happen in the Capital. No, my lips are sealed. I don’t want my friends in Malayalam media to get any ideas. 

Wednesday 1 August 2018

Stand by Meesha, or else shave your meesha

This week I got a whatsapp forward. The local unit of the Nair Service Society (NSS), a body that represents Nairs, an upper caste in Kerala, calling upon all community members to boycott Mathrubhumi newspaper till it apologises for publishing S. Hareesh’s novel Meesha (Moustache).

Then I got another forward, this one called the NSS resolution an interference in personal space and attack on individual rights. This message also warned that a boycott of Mathrubhumi will invariably help Malayala Manorama, owned by a Christian. But it didn’t question the assault on free speech.

Here is the excerpt from the novel which they are objecting to:

Why do girls take bath and go to temples all decked-up? A friend who used to accompany my walks till six months ago asked me once. 

"To pray," I said. 

"No, give a closer look. Why put on your best and doll up to pray? They are sub-consciously conveying their readiness for sex." 

I laughed. 

"If not why do they fail to turn up at temples four or five days a month? To let others know they are not ready, especially the temple priests. You know, they were the real playboys those days."

It’s obvious the chivalrous Nair men, or the Sangh Parivar elements they are backing, can’t have any of it. But we are yet to hear from any women about this, all the whatsapp messages circulating are valiant men pledging to save their sundar-susheel sisters.

Even these moral cops would admit that long before we got shopping malls, temples were where we wooed our girls. Where we schemed chance meetings to get the sandalwood tika on our foreheads by them. Many a love affair has taken root and blossomed in temples or ulsavapparambu.

Now, take the ban on women visiting temples during menstruation: it is not enforced the way it is in Kerala anywhere else in India. The character in the novel in his own way is giving a reasoning for a subject which is now being debated by no less than the Supreme Court.

If art, literature and films were to follow the Hindutva cowboys’ newly drafted moral code, we would have villains in films seeking the permission of women before a rape scene, drunkards reading out the ‘alcohol is injurious to health’ warnings before every sip of brandy and ‘shwaasakosam’ warning before every puff.

DC Books’ decision to publish Meesha is laudable. Such nonsense should be called out right from the beginning, and any attempt to censor must be nipped in the bud. If we don’t do it, we might as well shave our moustache and pretend it never was there.