Hold up your money and laugh, you have been stung

Operation Duryodhan played out, last Monday, on Aaj Tak which had collaborated with cobrapost.com to bring you the latest TV sting operation: 11 MPs apparently accepting money to ask questions in Parliament. It was riveting if saddening to watch. Riveting because of the ease with which the caught-on-camera MPs conducted the negotiations with the female decoy — so relaxed, as if accustomed to such transactions; saddening that they appear to the manner born.

Unfortunately, the operation was also entertaining. There was the pleasure of the furtive — the concealed, hidden pictures of the unsuspecting gentlemen. That made each incident with the different MPs genuine in a way that nothing else is on TV. Sure the situations had been contrived by the sting operators, but the MPs were the real thing. It was great reality TV. And to watch the MPs when confronted with the footage act as though it wasn’t them there was very funny. Like the emperor’s clothes.

Operation Duryodhan has restored the credibility of sting operations. There is little room for equivocation or doubt — no matter what the cricket team of MPs say. The clarity of the footage, the lack of ambiguity in the conversations, the simplicity with which everything happened make Duryodhan look pretty irrefutable. In the past, the picture has been hazy, the dialogues double-edged and open to reinterpretation. That is what beset Tehelka. Also, after a long time, a sting operation has been in the public interest. Unlike the Shakti Kapoor/ Aman Verma casting coach type of kissa, Duryodhan raises issues of governance and public policy. Serious business.

What we cannot take seriously —at all — are the beauty contests. Last week, saw Miss Iceland crowned Miss World in front of a less than enthusiastic Chinese audience (Star World). Ne’er was there a more boring sight, in spite of the evident beauty of some contestants. A new format hasn’t helped: first, each continent chooses its own queens who step forward for the final face-off. Here, they are asked general questions by the anchors — what would you like to do with your future, how would you contribute to human happiness, etc — and then it’s results time. The one ingredient that was integral to the show and evoked our faint interest in the proceedings—celebrity judges asking questions — was missing and, with it, whatever charm the pageant possessed.

Last column had railed against the trivial pursuits of game shows promoting themselves on luck and inanity. However, Kam Ya Zyaada (Zee) that promoted itself with the slogan, Dimak Kam Paisa Zyaada, sold itself short. This quiz show requires you to employ your grey cells quite vigorously on a series of ‘statements’: Pataudi was 21 when he became Indian cricket captain, the number of black squares on a chess board is 40, Preity Zinta and Saif Ali Khan have acted together, in two films, the Kathak ghungroo has 400 pieces…. Kam ya zyaada, demands anchor Manoj Bajpai (good debut) and you have to put your money where your thumb is. The game is simple to play and follow, unlike Sony’s Deal Ya No Deal where the episode is over before you can figure out what is happening and why.