If you asked me about Kokilaben or Yashraj Mukhate three weeks back, I would have countered with a question about who they were. In the time since, Mukhate’s take on a clip from a popular TV show has engulfed the entire Indian webspace. Between reaction channels on YouTube to major spokespeople of India’s ruling party, pretty much everyone with any internet presence seems to have heard or spoken these words — Woh Raashi Thi.
Last Saturday, Yashraj posted a picture with Anurag Kashyap. His latest video, which didn’t quite hit the same peaks of fame as the Raashi one, was still watched enough that Bollywood celebrities can be found in the comments section. As a musician, and someone who has made such videos too, I’ll happily admit that I’m jealous of where Yashraj has taken meme music in one stroke. It was a scattered, niche subculture before, but it may turn into a full-fledged part of our popular culture now.
Do you remember Rebecca Black? Her debut track (Friday) has 145 million YouTube hits. Let that number sink in for a second. But here’s the kicker — this was one of the first videos to have gained incredible viewership while consistently maintaining a negative likes-to-dislikes ratio.
But, do you remember clicking that link for the first time, watching that video? I don’t know anyone who watched it because they were curious about a new, young artist; but I know many who watched it because “hahahah, have you heard those lyrics, bro?”. Full disclosure — I might have been one of those who shared the video with my bros, garnishing it with a joke about her songwriting skills. I’m not sure if she ended up monetising that video, but if she did, she would probably have enough money to hire Hollywood’s best lyricists.
I fear we have done the same with Republic TV, Times Now, and all the mainstream media organisations that have encouraged the grotesque, public vilification of a budding Bollywood actor who recently lost the man she loved. Anchors like Arnab Goswami and Navika Kumar brought her case to the public courtroom that is our social media timelines; we looked left, looked right, clicked the like button on a few posts, and decided Rhea is guilty and there is no possible way Sushant could’ve suffered because of his own personality.
(Artist: Mir Suhail)
We watch Arnab and Rahul and Navika every night. We tune into their channels and watch them scream and gesticulate all dignity out of a noble profession like journalism. Now, I see some of you furrowing your brows thinking who watches Republic? Well, enough do. Republic and Times Now are two of the most popular news channels in the country; and their chiefs are basking in burgeoning rating-points as you read this. They wouldn’t be carrying the kind of coverage they do if it wasn't fetching them views.
Arnab Goswami, popularly known as the editor-in-chief of Republic TV, is also rabidly obsessive about every aspect of his channel — down to the color on the news-flash tickers. He is so completely driven by ratings that he changes his stance on topics based on what will fetch him the most eyeballs.
In 2011, while he was at Times Now, he blew his top at an editor who filled a 10-second gap during The Newshour with a small report on Anna Hazare. “How dare you put Anna Hazare? Who knows Anna Hazare? The nation doesn’t know Anna Hazare.” A week or so later, after seeing all competing channels cover Hazare’s campaign and imminent hunger strike, he ordered his reporters and creative team to prepare long segments on the 73-year-old social activist he so detested. “You guys know I don’t like Anna Hazare. But the issue that he’s talking about is very pertinent. It’s corruption, and that gives a cause to every Indian. We are all affected by corruption. So we’re going to make a campaign out of Anna Hazare. And this is what we’re going to do: tonight, I’ll have a debate on Newshour, five minutes. Tomorrow, between 12 and 1, we’ll have all our reporters at Jantar Mantar, and from 12 to 1 no other story will play except for Anna Hazare.” That weekend, close to fifty broadcast vans stationed themselves outside Jantar Mantar. Arnab even got his contacts from abroad to send in their views; and promptly portrayed that as the impact of Times Now’s coverage of Anna Hazare’s campaign.
In his book Pax Indica, Shashi Tharoor spoke about “a lengthy interview at the Ministry of External Affairs with a particularly egregious TV anchor—famed for his hectoring rants on assorted peeves, mostly unsupported by either fact or reason”. When Tharoor asked this anchor (you know who he is by now, right?) about his stance, the reply was telling.
“How does it matter? I’m playing the story this way, and I’m getting 45 percent in the TRPs. My two principal rivals are trying to be calm and moderate, and they’re at 13 percent and 11 percent.”
Arnab Goswami is Indian electronic media’s greatest opportunist. His peers may not be as forceful or prominent, but they’re cut from the same rating-hungry cloth. They do as the ratings and trends dictate, and sadly, those trends point to an audience who lap up this brand of reporting. India wants to read what famous personalities talk about in private; it wants to see the pictures they share and the things they eat and drink. The nation, indeed, wants to know.
And then, we — yes, you and I too — are all guilty of turning people like Arnab into fodder for cringe-pop and memes. By validating them with our shares and posts, we have turned a slimy snake into a fire-breathing dragon. Over the years, we have circulated their videos sprinkled with laughing emojis, made parodies and memes out of them, shared them on our WhatsApp groups, and then fallen back on our chairs and headrests wondering how the mainstream media ended up touching such depths. We watch those videos on loop because, honestly, they’re really funny. It is really funny to see India’s most famous news anchor shout “Mujhe drugs do” while banging his arms together like he’s in the middle of a folk dance routine. It’s hilarious to watch another anchor say “Bhubaneshwar is the scene.” It makes for great dramatic content. Oh.
I can see how it’s easy to wash off any responsibility for TRPs when we are only sharing memes and parodies. Well, here’s the thing. The number of clicks and hits count, not the sentiment behind them. With every tweet, story, or WhatsApp message, the shadow of Republic and Times Now grows wider. More people become aware of them, and eventually, reach brings with it a new audience. Intrigue is just as powerful as hype; and our actions have ended up keeping Arnab, Rahul, and Navika relevant and prominent in public consciousness.
Like me, many are sick and disgusted with what they have seen lately. They feel terrible about what’s happening in this country — the lies from the top, the mishandling of a global pandemic, the bloodlust for an actor, the way her life and career have been torched in public view. Where do we go from here? We can probably be better and more thoughtful about what we’re sharing. Extra sanitary precautions are in order when we are basically surrounded by filth. I assure you, it’s not a nice epiphany to have when the second post on your Instagram profile is of your piano cover over Arnab’s suddenness speech. No more.
But there is an entire separate conversation about broken humanity that needs to be had with much of the country, like those who have enjoyed this, who don’t waste a second of nuance before calling Rhea Chakraborty a druggie, a thief, and the reason for her partner’s death — without a shred of proof. But I don’t know if that conversation is even useful anymore. Rhea wasn’t the first victim, and she won’t be the last.
I don’t know if India has a conscience left. Its moral compass seems to be stuck in a pendular motion between cringe-pop and bigotry.