TWENTY-FOUR BY SEVEN
For the last two days, I have been having a very bad cold. My head was heavy and eyes were sleepy. So, after taking a strong doze of medicines, last night, I went into a deep sleep. My son stayed late to study for his board exams; my wife had to leave early this morning, and hence, went off to sleep early, too.
At 11 in the night, the SMSes stared flashing. "There has been firing at several places in Mumbai by the terrorists," our son knocked on our bed-room door to break the news. But, my sleep wasn't broken. After he left, my wife hit the bed again. But then, she struggled to catch sleep after that. At 1.30 am, my mobile phone rang; she picked up. My younger brother from Navi Mumbai spent the next half-an-hour giving her the 'live coverage' of the going-ons. This time, she tried to wake me up. "Listen. It seems, they are showing on TV the live coverage of the terror attack on Mumbai," she somewhat succeeded in breaking her husband's unusual snooze. "It seems the ATS chief, one encounter specialist and an ACP have died along with about 11 other police men. This is other than about eighty civilians." I heard her, voiced my concern over the episode, and then, my eyes closed. At three, she was, once again, up. My brother was giving her the fresh update. "The Taj is still burning; the Oberoi is still under siege." She did not wake me up.
At five, the SMSes began to do rounds, again: "All schools and colleges will remain closed today," "All Indians should show solidarity in this hour of crisis," "Donate blood for the victims of terror attack," ... My wife called up to check up with her colleague about their scheduled meeting. Obviously, it had been cancelled. Then, at six, she called her father who was in our hometown, Mangalore. He had gone off to sleep early last night; so, the news was first broken to him by his daughter.
Finally, at six, thanks to the screechy alarm, I had to get up to put my son back on his study-track. By now, I received my brother's one more call. He had spent the whole night before the TV!
And, I don't have to tell this: He wasn't alone!
In the morning, the discussion at our place centered around the same subject. "We don't watch TV; so, we don't come to know what is happening around," my wife said. "We should know," my son supported her view. Even I agreed; and, for once, it felt like we all missed the 'idiot box', badly. But, on a second thought, I found myself saying this to my son, "Why?"
Immediately, I realised that I had committed a harakiri by putting my foot in my mouth. The mother-son duo mounted a frontal attack on me. What I wanted to convey, was left unconveyed.
It was this.
Are we not over-reacting to this crises? Yes, it is really sad and frightening. Yes, like any human being, I too am concerned. But, why do I allow the 24x7 TV bombardment to disturb me so much. I am already disturbed; and here is the relentless onslaught on my peace of mind. By getting myself informed and updated about all and sundry trivia of this attack - what quality difference did it make to me as a citizen? Did it help me to become a gentle soul, or to become a more honest, compassionate and responsible citizen? Why should I sit, hooked to the TV, the whole night? Why should I buy half-a-dozen newspapers to read the same news? Why should I send a hundred messages? Does it mean, I have become a fine soul, overnight? Is this attack as sinister as the attack on the Twin-Towers in New York? Were there round-the-clock live news-coverages when bombs rained on the Pearl Harbour, and when the History's only atom bombs devastated Japan? How do I 'know' about these incidents, even today, as if they happened yesterday?
Is this information or is this sensationalism?
Can I not get myself 'adequately' informed about the state of affairs around my city, my state, my country and the world without getting hooked to this addiction called 24x7 live-coverage? Will the world become a better place to live in, through this kind of information? Will it reduce terrorism? Will it help bring peace and harmony around?
In 1984, when Mrs. Indira Gandhi was brutally assassinated at her residence, by her own security guards, her only surviving son, Mr. Rajiv Gandhi was somewhere in the remote Assam doing the poll campaigning. He heard the shocking news through BBC news on a pocket transistor. That night, we saw him back in the Capital, huddled with his friends and well-wishers. The same night, in a simple and brief ceremony, he shouldered upon him the painful burden of running the nation. I am yet to see a son near his mother's massacred dead body - so poised, so stoic-like!
A few years later, when his own body was blow off to pieces by the human bombers, Mr. Rajiv Gandhi had already passed on this legacy to his own widow and children.
There weren't mobiles, and round-the-clock news coverage hadn't caught-up, yet. And, yet, we all survived; our nation survived ... Life goes on. Maybe like a roller coaster.
But, then, when it wasn't so?
I left for work, as usual, at 7.45 this morning. Before leaving, I had a glance at the TOI headlines: 'WAR ON MUMBAI'. Just outside my neighbours' doors, the other newspapers stared at me: 'MUMBAI MASSACRED', 'MUMBAI UNDER SIEGE' ...
My autowalha was an elderly man. Like me, he too had left his home to earn his daily bread. Both of us were 'informed' about the tragedy in our beloved city. Both of us were equally unsure whether we would return home, at night, in a single piece! But, out we were ...
Around 9.30 am, I finally decided to watch the TV coverage for a short while in one my friends' house near my Classes. Like so many others, he too had spent long hours before the TV, already. When I appeared there, he surfed all the channels for me, so that I could get the 'maximum information'. I saw the hijacked-police-jeep shot repeated at least 'ten times', when I was watching one particular channel ... Yes, the same shot!
And, they call it 'round-the-clock information'!
When I left that place after twenty minutes, my head ached like a hell!
Frankly, I hold this kind of onslaught as more destructive to the human mind than those sporadic ones by the Ultras. At least the Ultras don't bombard like this 24x7x365. Not in our living rooms and bed rooms, at least!
I wanted to convey this view of mine to my wife and son, before I was silenced by their onslaught!
GERALD D'CUNGH
At 11 in the night, the SMSes stared flashing. "There has been firing at several places in Mumbai by the terrorists," our son knocked on our bed-room door to break the news. But, my sleep wasn't broken. After he left, my wife hit the bed again. But then, she struggled to catch sleep after that. At 1.30 am, my mobile phone rang; she picked up. My younger brother from Navi Mumbai spent the next half-an-hour giving her the 'live coverage' of the going-ons. This time, she tried to wake me up. "Listen. It seems, they are showing on TV the live coverage of the terror attack on Mumbai," she somewhat succeeded in breaking her husband's unusual snooze. "It seems the ATS chief, one encounter specialist and an ACP have died along with about 11 other police men. This is other than about eighty civilians." I heard her, voiced my concern over the episode, and then, my eyes closed. At three, she was, once again, up. My brother was giving her the fresh update. "The Taj is still burning; the Oberoi is still under siege." She did not wake me up.
At five, the SMSes began to do rounds, again: "All schools and colleges will remain closed today," "All Indians should show solidarity in this hour of crisis," "Donate blood for the victims of terror attack," ... My wife called up to check up with her colleague about their scheduled meeting. Obviously, it had been cancelled. Then, at six, she called her father who was in our hometown, Mangalore. He had gone off to sleep early last night; so, the news was first broken to him by his daughter.
Finally, at six, thanks to the screechy alarm, I had to get up to put my son back on his study-track. By now, I received my brother's one more call. He had spent the whole night before the TV!
And, I don't have to tell this: He wasn't alone!
In the morning, the discussion at our place centered around the same subject. "We don't watch TV; so, we don't come to know what is happening around," my wife said. "We should know," my son supported her view. Even I agreed; and, for once, it felt like we all missed the 'idiot box', badly. But, on a second thought, I found myself saying this to my son, "Why?"
Immediately, I realised that I had committed a harakiri by putting my foot in my mouth. The mother-son duo mounted a frontal attack on me. What I wanted to convey, was left unconveyed.
It was this.
Are we not over-reacting to this crises? Yes, it is really sad and frightening. Yes, like any human being, I too am concerned. But, why do I allow the 24x7 TV bombardment to disturb me so much. I am already disturbed; and here is the relentless onslaught on my peace of mind. By getting myself informed and updated about all and sundry trivia of this attack - what quality difference did it make to me as a citizen? Did it help me to become a gentle soul, or to become a more honest, compassionate and responsible citizen? Why should I sit, hooked to the TV, the whole night? Why should I buy half-a-dozen newspapers to read the same news? Why should I send a hundred messages? Does it mean, I have become a fine soul, overnight? Is this attack as sinister as the attack on the Twin-Towers in New York? Were there round-the-clock live news-coverages when bombs rained on the Pearl Harbour, and when the History's only atom bombs devastated Japan? How do I 'know' about these incidents, even today, as if they happened yesterday?
Is this information or is this sensationalism?
Can I not get myself 'adequately' informed about the state of affairs around my city, my state, my country and the world without getting hooked to this addiction called 24x7 live-coverage? Will the world become a better place to live in, through this kind of information? Will it reduce terrorism? Will it help bring peace and harmony around?
In 1984, when Mrs. Indira Gandhi was brutally assassinated at her residence, by her own security guards, her only surviving son, Mr. Rajiv Gandhi was somewhere in the remote Assam doing the poll campaigning. He heard the shocking news through BBC news on a pocket transistor. That night, we saw him back in the Capital, huddled with his friends and well-wishers. The same night, in a simple and brief ceremony, he shouldered upon him the painful burden of running the nation. I am yet to see a son near his mother's massacred dead body - so poised, so stoic-like!
A few years later, when his own body was blow off to pieces by the human bombers, Mr. Rajiv Gandhi had already passed on this legacy to his own widow and children.
There weren't mobiles, and round-the-clock news coverage hadn't caught-up, yet. And, yet, we all survived; our nation survived ... Life goes on. Maybe like a roller coaster.
But, then, when it wasn't so?
I left for work, as usual, at 7.45 this morning. Before leaving, I had a glance at the TOI headlines: 'WAR ON MUMBAI'. Just outside my neighbours' doors, the other newspapers stared at me: 'MUMBAI MASSACRED', 'MUMBAI UNDER SIEGE' ...
My autowalha was an elderly man. Like me, he too had left his home to earn his daily bread. Both of us were 'informed' about the tragedy in our beloved city. Both of us were equally unsure whether we would return home, at night, in a single piece! But, out we were ...
Around 9.30 am, I finally decided to watch the TV coverage for a short while in one my friends' house near my Classes. Like so many others, he too had spent long hours before the TV, already. When I appeared there, he surfed all the channels for me, so that I could get the 'maximum information'. I saw the hijacked-police-jeep shot repeated at least 'ten times', when I was watching one particular channel ... Yes, the same shot!
And, they call it 'round-the-clock information'!
When I left that place after twenty minutes, my head ached like a hell!
Frankly, I hold this kind of onslaught as more destructive to the human mind than those sporadic ones by the Ultras. At least the Ultras don't bombard like this 24x7x365. Not in our living rooms and bed rooms, at least!
I wanted to convey this view of mine to my wife and son, before I was silenced by their onslaught!
GERALD D'CUNGH
Comments