So I confess. I had to cover the Thums Up Hai Dum contest. It was mind-numbingly boring, of course, and I was out of there in about half an hour and terribly depressed that I had to be there at all. I tried to use the opportunity to make a comment on popular perceptions of masculinity in my story, but I don't think it worked. And even if it worked for me, I've realised that what the desk understands as insightful comments is completely missed by most of the larger public.
I wasn't always so disillusioned. When I first began work here, the supplement was the place to divert from the occasional stodginess of the main paper. It was irreverent, it was cheeky and it dared to have an opinion. The main paper reserved one entire page for an interview of Eric Hobsbawm and we had cheeky takes on the day's events.
When we'd go to cover fashion shows, kid's contests, item shows, we could come back and make comments about the sociology of the event. Of parental attitude, child rearing trends, Page3 culture and so on. And we've had some excellent pieces tearing apart these 'shows'; not just quality, tongue-in-cheek writing but the editorial assurance backing it as well.
The first one of these I did was a Nickleodeon contest with horrific-ally made-up kids dancing lewdly to pop tunes. But all my sarcasm and wit was misplaced, or completely missed, because the PR lady called me cheerfully after to thank me and tell me when the finals were. Jesus. I had completely bashed the contest, or so I thought.
There have been other gentle, and not-so-gentle, mirrors held to commercial shows. See RM on the hunt for an item bomb for instance or Ivan T. on the real story behind a 'kids fashion show'. The second piece brought irate parents barging into our quiet newsroom demanding, no, not asking, or wondering, but belligerently demanding an apology from the reporter.
It's easiest to point fingers at the Times of India of course. For spoiling readers; making them believe that supplements created space for 'who went where and wore what' snippets and pastes of press releases. But it must be more than that. Because now, when people see opinion or, God forbid, criticism in a supplement they get hopping mad. The edits and the opinion pieces you see, are meant strictly for the edit page. But are they? Is my job just going to cover silly events and then coming back and telling you what item number Baby Pinky (who was Little Miss Bangalore last year, no less) danced to and what her gloating parents said?
Please say no. Please, please.
