“Why doesn’t he get a DNA test done?” I hear my mother exclaim, the minute I step into my house. “I’ve been suggesting it for a year since the serial took a leap and the twins got separated.” adds my wife, without looking up from her laptop though her ears are glued to the events unravelling on the small screen. I look at the two entranced women in my life who don’t even register my entrance and settle in between, wondering in which new crafty way Deepa (the lead heroine) will dodge another missile from her nemesis Mounitha. This is how we spend our evenings. Karthika Deepam , a popular television show has transfixed my household ever since it started more than two years ago.
Why Karthik and Deepa won’t meet is as pressing an issue as why Katappa killed Baahubali in my house, but we are in no rush to find out and are one of the millions glued to the small screen superhit saga.
The serial follows a faithful template set by Ekta Kapoor, that trendsetter who gave (mostly) housewives soapy and weepy sagas which belied both sense and sensibility at every tantalising turn. Pregnancies which go on for eternities, millionaire businessmen who never as much as take a call related to work, families who forever lounge around living/dining areas, marriages so fragile that a salty curry can result in a divorce and women decked up to such highs that they are visible from Mars are a staple of the aforementioned serial too.
But then, why is it so compelling? And compelling it is — scroll down on YouTube and daily episodes are as hotly debated and discussed as the Kashmir lockdown. Its leads are mobbed at stores and the show runs as strongly as Queen Elizabeth’s reign.
While Karthika Deepam is my guilty pleasure, software developer Ratnavali Burra says that she is hooked to Bigg Boss in all languages. “I even watch the Tamil versions with subtitles. It gives me a respite from the everyday-ness of life. It’s so exaggerated that’s it’s outright fun.”
Offering a respite from monotony is a big draw. While reams have been written about the state of Hindi television and how it’s a far cry from the days of meaningful soaps of the 80s and 90s, Telugu television is a faithful imitation of the version served up the Vindhyas.
Now is the time for drama. Nothing sells like pity and there is no shortage of milking it on our regional channels. It’s the Kamadhenu that keeps on giving. While a heroine is mute in one popular serial, another serial has a long-suffering uneducated wife married to the heir of a family which runs educational institutions. (It happens, okay?)
The background scores border on the bizarre and since subtlety dies a quick death every day on our soaps, every scene is dramatised — from a pregnancy which must be guarded on a daily basis or a festival that takes place over months or marriages which are forever in peril — the drama quotient is directly proportional to the price of onions, or so it seems.
Why then are these serials so popular? Is it a lack of choice, incongruous in the age of Netflix? Or is it some elusive X factor? Architect Srujana Nalam says that it’s because they are so removed from reality that people like to watch it. “No one lives in a joint family any more to feud with a sister-in-law every day or sleeps wearing mascara. But then, watching someone else do it is a guilty pleasure. It appeals to a cross section of people as it is supremely addictive based on its outlandishness.”
For all their absurdity, this brand of television is here to stay. Just ask us, we have just enjoyed an amazing episode (number 667) which was dedicated to why a deepam was extinguished just at a time when Deepa and Karthik seemed like they finally had a chance to meet. Such riveting rigours. Pass on the popcorn or the papad , can’t wait to see what joys tomorrow’s episode will bring.
