When the power goes out in a city and the women come out for some air these days the talk soon turns to the neighbourhood’s young married women and speculation over which one fits the Parvati stereotype (doe-eyed virtue) and which one the Pallavi (the wily vamp). Children these days are keen on digging out the family skeletons. Parents are asked questions about the dowry that changed hands, the treatment by family members of their mother as a young bride, of domestic fights buried and long forgotten. Elderly people, though positively represented on daily soaps, find their real problems, of financial difficulties and failing health, are totally ignored. These are some of the findings of studies conducted by the Delhi-based Centre for Advocacy Research. Though not focused solely on the ‘‘K serial’’, much of its feedback revolves around it or its many clones and offers some indication as to the effects of the immensely popular yet controversial genre. Researchers have long been aware of the consumerist aspect of the serials. Ask sari retailers and paint companies and they will tell you that the preponderance of symbols of upward mobility in the serials — mobile phones, silk saris, coloured walls — have a direct aspirational value. It is not bindis and saris that are of concern to media analysts but the more subtle influence exerted by the underlying politics of the serial. The emphasis on base emotions and domestic discord is a recurring complaint. Fifteen women from Delhi’s Vasant Kunj neighbourhood recently felt strongly enough to pen a letter to Ekta Kapoor: ‘‘These women/men (referring to characters) are nothing but green-eyed monsters with criminal bent of mind or deviant behaviour — they only reflect the degeneration and decay of society . We honestly feel that these serials have sown the seeds of discord, protest and sexuality into our society where such an occurrence is rare.’’ A complaint true of assembly-line daily soaps the world over. Feminist historian and avid television viewer Uma Chakravarti though finds much in the serials to connect to post-globalisation India. ‘‘The architecture suggests a corporate household with global aspirations — the boys go abroad, sign international deals. The women go shopping.’’ There is also, she points out, a complete erasure of all but the upper class. The lower classes do not make an appearance even as servants in the household. As for the middle class, characters such as Tulsi and Kkusum may have belonged there originally but, as Chakravarti maintains, ‘‘They are soon appropriated by the rest.’’ The erasure however extends beyond class. The professional working woman for instance is virtually absent on the K serial. ‘‘I take trouble these days not to stick out in my neighbourhood,’’ said one working woman interviewed for a study by the Centre for Advocacy Research in Delhi’s Patel Nagar. If a sudden awkwardness with one’s working status is a possible fallout; there is another. For instance, till recently market researchers and advertisers were talking about the rise of individualism among women, and the emergence of the free-willed, independent woman. Today the trend appears to have tilted in the other direction. Sumita Hattangadi of the market research agency Third Eye describes the strong and widespread identification with Tulsi and Parvati. ‘‘These are seen as achievable role models unlike famous real people such as Kiran Bedi and Indira Gandhi. The feeling is that here are women like me!’’ This even though these are characters that are ‘‘completely other-centric with nothing of the self’’. The contemporary urban woman, Hattangadi admits, has changed enormously with even yesterday’s traditionalist playing today’s balancer, that is, taking on some responsibilities outside the house even if it is paying bills. But that is not the reality reflected. In fact what is given life is what Akila Shivdas of the Centre for Advocacy calls ‘‘the Lalita Pawar type of villainy’’. ‘‘The bahus are only squabbling,’’ complains Lalitha Barooah, one of the signatories to the letter from Vasant Kunj, ‘‘and incidents like someone marrying for revenge — it is embarrassing to see this with kids.’’ Adds another signatory, Shubhangi Moharir, ‘‘I don’t like the way women are portrayed. Without any brains, either too good or bad, no balance — a caricature.’’ Former television executive Rekha Nigam has a different view, believing that in the K serial ordinary women find a resonance of their own problems and concerns. The enormous popularity of the K serial — Navratri celebrations in Ahmedabad’s old city area do not start until after prime time on television to give just one instance — also indicates the machinations are a potent attraction for female audiences. On the other hand there is a real danger of regressive attitudes assuming new attractive forms, particularly in a modernising society. And Chakravarti points out how though the fights in the serials involve men and property ‘‘the everyday narrative is played out through the women’’. Working women, single women, economically independent women — a growing reality in India — remain invisible. ‘‘The formula,’’ Chakravarti concludes, ‘‘is to reconsolidate the larger traditional ideology within which women must play certain roles.’’
