Gitanjali Aiyar: An Icon of Bygone Era

 

In this era of screaming TV anchors and high-decibel debates that resemble a bout in a wrestling ring, the passing away of Gitanjali Aiyar reminded us of far more dignified, though somewhat staid, times of television news in India. Those were the early days of television news in the country and unlike a newspaper reporter or a radio newsreader, a TV newsreader has a face, and viewers were getting used to this novelty of seeing them regularly in their living rooms.

Gitanjali Aiyar, along with Neethi Raveendran, Minu, Komal G.B. Singh, Rini Simon, Preet K.S. Bedi, Suneet Tandon, Tejeshwar Singh and others became household names in the 1980s, when Rajiv Gandhi government went on an overdrive to spread the footprint of the country's lone television network Doordarshan across the country. TV towers were getting inaugurated on a daily basis in every other district, and it was seen as part of Rajiv Gandhi’s vision to take India to the 21st century.

For the viewers, this sudden burst of visual treat was very alluring. So far he/she had to go to the nearest cinema hall for visual entertainment. Moreover, the TV offered much more: global sporting events like Olympics, Asian Games and live telecasts of cricket matches, all of which could be enjoyed from the comfort of your homes. It was also a great boon for the invalid and the aged who could not go to cinema halls.

Though the government succeeded in making the television hardware ubiquitous across the country, the programming part remained very Delhi-centric, and heavily skewed in favour of the Hindi language. Since the state-owned Doordarshan enjoyed a monopoly over the airwaves, viewers were actually a captive audience with no other alternative. Satellite television and dish antennas were yet to make an entry.

Amid all these limited offerings, there was a 20-minute English news bulletin at 9 pm, which many of those residing in the non-Hindi belt looked forward to. Those were pre-teleprompter days and news readers had the unenviable task of reading through the paper and maintaining occasional eye contact with the viewers.

With her crystal clear accent, lean build, and immaculate sartorial sense, Gitanjali Aiyar soon endeared her viewers. Women used to gawk at the saree she used to wear and compare them with that of fellow women newsreaders.

However, many people did not know that Gitanjali Aiyar was actually a Maharashtrian and her maiden name was Gitanjali Ambegaonkar. Hence, she sometimes used to trip while pronouncing some tongue-twister names of South Indian cities and their people. This used to roil those residing in the south of Vindhyas – how could an Aiyar pronounce Kozhikode or Thenmozhi wrongly? Some even used to shoot off angry letters to the editor in English dailies.

Being a government-run institution, Doordarshan news was a bland fare as it had to go by the sarkari rule book. What passed off as a news bulletin was actually a caravan of speeches, book releases, and planting of trees (all mainly in Delhi) by telegenic Rajiv Gandhi. Things like 'breaking news' or 'flash' were unheard of and there was a yawning gap between what we saw on television and what we read in newspapers and magazines. The latter appeared to be closer to capturing the rough and tumble of Indian politics.

Towards the latter part of Rajiv Gandhi’s tenure, the country was rocked by Bofors, Shah Banu case, Ram Janambhoomi, and other controversies, but Doordarshan managed to remain hermetically sealed from all the heat and dust it generated.

The entry of satellite television in the late 1980s began stirring things up. It provided a glimpse of what BBC or CNN television news looked like. The launch of homegrown news channels like Star TV News and vernacular offerings in the mid-nineties raised the bar. Soon Doordarshan news had fewer takers and it got relegated to an also-ran status amid a gaggle of newly-started TV channels.

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Captive Audience Conundrum

Karl Marx once described religion as the opium of the masses. Now the 24/7 TV news channels have taken over that mantle from the guardians of faith.

From their prime time pulpits, television anchors dole out daily diversionary fix and firewall the masses from real issues, as the former brings in more eyeballs and the latter only means more leg work, sometimes loss of ad revenue or even tax raids. In their missionary zeal to pursue the holy grail of Television Rating Point (TRP), the anchors have donned the mantle of entertainers.

You may be in the middle of a spiralling coronavirus caseload, closure of businesses, rampant job losses and the Chinese may be breathing down our necks in Ladakh, but when you switch on the television you will see none of it. Instead of holding a mirror to society, our smug anchors are indulging in the exercise of smoke and mirrors.

Gone are the days of news anchors being mere messengers; they are now competing with TV serial actors with regard to histrionics. The melodrama levels these anchors whip up during their prime time shows would make late Manmohan Desai proud. They become the judge, jury and the executioners and their primetime shows are war minus shooting. Some even costume up for the act - we had a Hindi TV news channel anchor dress up as an astronaut when our moon lander mission was about to touch down. Tragically the mission ended in failure, had it succeeded we would have probably seen many more anchors in space suits the next day.

To keep news dramatic and entertaining a villain is vital. Some invite Pakistani guests and make them the whipping boys. At other times villains are spun out after giving the narrative a Goebbelsian twist - months ago it was Tablighi Jamaat, yesterday it was Rhea Chakraborty and now it is Deepika Padukone. Stoking hatred is rewarding, but when laced with glam quotient it makes TRP scale new highs (no pun intended).

For the 42-inch LED owning middle class it is a good diversion from their dreary lives of eat, work, buy groceries and whine about price rise and taxes. It further reinforces their pet beliefs - those in the movies are of loose morals, people from the 'other' community can never be trusted and the like. And instills a sense of holier-than-thou self-righteousness.

Earlier in the 1980s, when the government was busy bringing every district into its television network, the viewers were described as 'captive' audience because the state-owned Doordarshan enjoyed a monopoly over the airwaves. What passed off as a 20-minute news bulletin at 9 pm was actually a caravan of speeches, book releases, and planting of trees (all mainly in Delhi) by our telegenic prime minister Rajiv Gandhi.

Things like 'breaking news' or 'flash' were unheard of and there was a yawning gap between what we saw on television and what we read in newspapers and magazines. Anchors of that era Preet K.S. Bedi, Minu, Komal G.B. Singh, Gitanjali Aiyar, Rene Simon became household names, but more for their English pronunciation and sartorial sense. Women gawked at the sarees some of the women anchors wore, while many viewers wondered how Preet could always manage to find a turban matching the colour of his suit or tie.

The entry of satellite television in the late 1980s began stirring things up. It provided a glimpse of how BBC or CNN television news looked like. The launch of homegrown news channels like Star TV news and vernacular offerings in the mid-nineties raised the bar. We later had the first televised battle - Kargil war enter our drawing rooms and the subsequent Kandahar hijacking.

Those days were heady with TV reporters doing a lot of ground reporting. But around 2010 the news channel business began consolidating with the entry of some industrial houses and conglomerates. The managements tightened the purse strings and ground reporting became one of the casualties. It gave way to a more cost-effective prime time discussions moderated by an anchor with guests of various political persuasions.

After 2014, the television news underwent a sea change. Television anchors who pulled no punches while questioning those in power suddenly became very reverential. On the other hand they trained their guns on the opposition - whataboutery, false equivalence and jingoism became the new stock-in-trade. TV anchors have ceased being watch dogs for people's rights, but alternate playing lapdogs and guard dogs for the establishment.

Soon all panel discussions began looking the same. During the Doordarshan monopoly days the people had lamented that news bulletins were glorified government handouts and enviously marvelled at Western countries with hundreds of channels. But now despite a surfeit of news channels, diversity is hard to come by and we continue to remain a captive audience.