The rubble is piled high on the desk of every television channel boss and production house honcho. There are TRP charts, marketing strategies, advertising revenue figures, channel profit graphs, daily deadline sheets, star availability lists, costume costs, make-up details, hairdo descriptions... Right at the bottom of the pile, gasping for breath, lies the least important scrap of paper, containing the serial's storyline and script.
< align=right marginWidth=0 marginHeight=0 src="http://adstil.indiatimes.com/RealMedia/ads/adstream_sx.ads/www.timesofindia.com/Stories/index./1238369055@Middle?" Border=0 width=240 scrolling=no height=400 bordercolor="#000000"> </>No wonder then that storytelling on the daily soap has plumbed new depths of absurdity. That's if you consider the routine of love, break-up, extra-marital affair, remarriage, return to first spouse, accident, death, return with a different face and amnesia as story-telling in the first place. After every grand leap forward, the story jumps to a horde of grandchildren, all of whom don't know who their fathers are, but all of whom want to kill one another for the sake of family property.
"Television today is about consensus, not conviction," says Gajra Kottary, scriptwriter of Astitva-Ek Prem Kahani, a serial still holding on to a sensitive storyline. "Recently, a channel okayed 20 episodes of my new serial, then suddenly did a rethink and insisted that I rewrite all the episodes, making them shriller and more melodramatic. I opted out. I guess I'll write only as long as Astitva is on. Afterwards, I'll look for another profession." Gajra is still holding out in Astitva. The makers of Jassi Jaissi Koi Nahin have been less fortunate. "It's obvious that Jassi has gone out of the writer's hand and is Sony TV's baby now," says writer-actor Loveleen Mishra. "Sony stars like Abhijit Sawant come on it arbitrarily, the story is jumping about and jaded twists are being used in what was once a fresh storyline."
Maker of Jassi, Deeya Singh, probably agrees, probably feels mortified. When contacted, she says, "This is an intense subject, I'll talk to you about this at length, later." And never emerges from her 'meetings' again to talk about it, at length or otherwise. The tricks of the trade have become cliches now. A 20-year leap is a stock option, whenever the TRP drops. In Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi, Ba is emerging as a medical marvel with every leap. She's a great great grandmother-in-law, and is still going strong and over-dressed.
< align=right marginWidth=0 marginHeight=0 src="http://adstil.indiatimes.com/RealMedia/ads/adstream_sx.ads/www.timesofindia.com/Stories/index./1621704208@Middle?" Border=0 width=240 scrolling=no height=400 bordercolor="#000000"> </>Plastic surgeries are mandatory. Whenever an actor leaves a serial in a huff, his/her character returns from an accident with a new face, voice, height, and amnesia. (In Kasauti Zindagi Kay, Prerna has a selective 20-year amnesia.) If the actor patches up with the producer and wishes to return, as in Kahani Ghar Ghar Ki, the script makes provisions for that too. Then, it turns out the plastic surgery character was actually someone else pretending to be the heroine, not the heroine with real plastic surgery done on her. The heroine was merely 'testing' her husband, and is safe, with her own face. (If you didn't understand that, you're obviously not watching enough television.)
"When an actor is changed, the director can simply run a banner announcing it," says Gajra. "They use plastic surgery more as a convenience, for fodder for the next 30 episodes."
Finally, it's all a matter of convenience. As Kainaaz, a daily soap vamp, who needs leave from television shooting to act in a film, puts it, "Getting leave from the serial won't be a problem. They'll send me to my maike, or make me have an accident. They'll think of something."
No doubt they'll think of something-and call it storytelling.
| |
CID
