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Serial wars
The history of TV viewing in my house dates back to the entry of the black and white EC TV into my family fortress. Today it is shown great veneration and preserved as a museum piece in the family archives. We decided to hand it over to the museum eventually because being the only one of its kind, it is bound to command a sky-rocketing `price'.
It is a peaceful set since not only does it come off in parts and pieces but having only four knobs and four legs to stand on, it entails peace when it comes to a family's equal division of property. In a family like ours where we are four daughters, each can pull off a knob and walk away with a leg!
Initially, we presented the picture of United India Colony since there was only one channel and Doordarshan rationed out only one film and one music session per week. There could be no room for bickering. I can recall joyously the days when we as a family would watch blue films (sorry, folks! By blue films I mean the films we watched through the blue filter costing Rs. 80 that we were requested to fit on to our TV screens as a protective device for our eyes).
Subsequently, as time passed by, the EC was supplemented by the BPL portable set that gained entry into my household by passing off as a birthday gift to my father. It served him till he was no more. In sympathy with its owner's demise, it was found to show only waves on the screen.
Amidst much celebration, the EC Spectra super colour TV was brought in when my daughter secured a rank in the public examination. Life was indeed colourful for all of us. This set still works, but its purpose is slightly altered — it serves as a writing table for my husband. Stationed in a corner of his room, it holds the stationery for him.
A fourth TV set has been generously donated to me by my son. He dubs it the senior citizens' TV because it shows only DD1, DD2 and Podhigai. Standing unkempt and unsung, one can watch programmes on it undisturbed and uninterrupted. But that is not to be for the ambitious likes of me!
Presently, the only set that can stake claim of being a decent television set is a National one. We have this one to view all the national and international channels and that is where all the trouble begins. This is a near impossible feat since all the four members of our family vie for the remote control. Now the `remote' is underlying cause of all the serial wars waged in my family. It has led to a lot of infighting come 9 p.m. when all of us promptly assemble there. When my doctor husband winds up and walks in, eyes sparkling to analyse the cricket highlights, my son is heard to exclaim, "Et tu Appa! All the hope (of survival!) is reserved for your patients when they come to see you. Here, you have absolutely no chance." He walks out in despair mumbling under his breath as to how his wife has brought up the children to be selfish even without consuming a wee bit of shellfish.
My daughter and I, made of sterner stuff, still hold out. At the moment, I am reminded of the Dhara cooking oil where the little daughter loudly announces "My daddy's strongest". That is the story of yesteryear when kids were small. Once they grow up, it is a case of "my son's strongest" and the one who the strongest physically, holds on to the remote.
He mocks at my daughter, who, clad in churidar, hopes to view the Hindi serials. She is dying to know who murdered the daughter-in-law of the household — husband, mother-in-law or grandmother. "It really does not matter", my son quips since they are just killing your time by dishing out stories as old as the hills. My son belongs to the clan, which exclaims, "We don't see Tamil films. We see only English films". He's a killjoy for us when he resorts to channel surfing. He turns on to AXN and if I dared ask for Sun TV, he stares daggers at me.
Since my son has to view HBO, all others are denied access to other channels. With repeated pleading from me, he throws titbits at me by mixing and remixing the various Tamil serials and I am blessed if I chance to see even a hotchpotch or medley of serials.
It is not a matter of "All are equal before the TV" in my family. It is a question of the fittest or strongest watching it. Even I, the mother of the family, have become a quarrelsome, selfish person refusing to accommodate, give in or adjust or call it what you will.
It is only as I trudge along do I realise that it is time I play the mother to the hilt and be more tolerant to other family members' tastes.
Thara Mohan Rao
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