Coverage of Sridevi’s death was tasteless and insensitive. Is anyone surprised?
If only they had abided by their own hashtag, “#RIP” and let Sridevi rest in peace and the bereaved mourn in silence. As it was, had it not been so saddening, it would have been laughable. Not sure what was the most ludicrous, demeaning and obscene or all three: The Mahaa News reporter sprawled in a bathtub, “Sridevi lying in a bathtub” (CNN News 18) or the cut-outs of Boney Kapoor and his wife in the bedroom (Zee Hindustan) — TV 9’s cadaverous imagination had Sridevi’s body in the tub with Boney Kapoor standing by (also News X).
Or was it the glass of red wine floating into bathroom scenes on so many news channels (like ABP, Aaj Tak) no sooner had Khaleej Times reported “the stunning twist” (India Today) that “traces of alcohol” had been found in Sridevi’s forensic reports on Monday afternoon? You thought any second then, the thirsty but hale and hearty reporter/anchor would reach out, gulp down the “sharaab” as Hindi news channels pronounced with censorious disapproval (“kya sharaab ne le li megastar ki jaan?” — News 24), lose “consciousness”, fall into the bathwater, drown and become “considerably bloated” (as a “source” close to those close to the Kapoor family confided in Arnab Goswami) — all in the space of “40 minutes” (Republic). Then he/she could have “died” and returned from the dead to tell the tale.
That’s how ludicrous it all was.
For the mathematician in Goswami, it just “didn’t add up”. He claimed “evidence had been destroyed” by the Dubai police opening the hotel bedroom, where Sridevi had stayed. His co-anchor suggested a second autopsy be conducted in India, something a “varisht patrakaar” on Zee Hindustan seconded. “Kya sadma ek hatya hai?” asked the channel while India News reported Sridevi had a “head injury” and a “deep wound” — something that Khaleej Times’ Abhishek Sengupta flatly denied. He and the editor of Gulf News were the most sought after journalists from Dubai — that is until India Today’s Gaurav Sawant flew in to investigate “Diva found dead in bathtub” only to discover that the Dubai authorities had “closed the case”.
Not for the likes of Goswami, who for two successive nights relentlessly pursued the “megastar” in death with “legit” “unanswered questions”, rather like news channels, which pursued the ambulance carrying Sridevi’s “mortal remains” (why couldn’t they simply say “body”?) from Mumbai airport to her home, Tuesday night, and the SUV apparently conveying Karti Chidambaram to a Delhi court on Wednesday (NDTV 24×7).
Such needless, tasteless, cruelty as they piously proclaimed “Alvida Sridevi” (Zee News). No more needless than Times Now measuring out her life and death in feet and inches: Could a 5’ 6” person drown in a 5-foot wide tub, which was 24 inches deep? Or the theory that the allegedly repeated plastic surgery may have been the culprit — India Today, in all seriousness, invited a plastic surgeon for an opinion (Sunday) along with Dr Naresh Trehan on the “cardiac arrest”.
No more needless than the chatter, Wednesday morning, as her body lay in state at the Celebration Sports Club. In the parade of Bollywood stars, actors were identified — Karan Johar arrives, Rekha is here, etc — and the Aaj Tak reporter described Sridevi dressed like a “dulhan” and how much who cried, none apparently more than Vidya Balan who had to be consoled by Sonam Kapoor. Did we need to know any of this? None more tasteless than ABP’s needle of suspicion in a graphic showing a syringe about to pierce “botoxed” lips. None more cruel than the photos making the rounds of social media on Tuesday and shown on, at least India TV’s “Aaj Ka Viral” of a “first look” at Sridevi’s body, and her face on TV 9.
And what of the repeats, over three days, of her “final 15 minutes alive” on almost all Hindi news channels? “What happened in those last 15 minutes that led to her death?’ asked India TV. It went on to detail the final moments — she was “surprised to see Boney”, the time and space- traveling anchor claimed — or what it called “maut ki neend” in “Maut ka bathtub”. Why didn’t they all get thrown out with the bathwater?
Then there were her “last” photographs in death, her “last” photographs and videos, in life, at the wedding she attended in Dubai, her “last” smile on an aircraft before she left Mumbai for Dubai (ABP came up with the infelicitous “death’s silent scream”), her lasting contribution as Bollywood’s “first female megastar” (Times Now) and, all day Wednesday, her “last journey”.
Many viewers have criticised the coverage of Sridevi’s death, but are any of us really surprised? Perhaps by how far they are willing to sink into the bathwater to come up with “stories”. Remember the Aarushi murder case, the insensitive reconstructions, speculation and “detective” cloak and dagger stuff? Could anything be worse?
We are complicit. We watch the worst they do in fascinated horror or horrified fascination.
Across cultures, human beings come together to celebrate and make merry in public spaces, which are meant to be equally accessible to all. Whether it be the Coachella Music Festival in the US, the Carnival in Brazil, or even Holi in northern India, these celebrations offer not only a sensory spectacle but also allow for a suspension of the usual social hierarchies. In school, we’re taught that these festivals are about togetherness and love. These celebrations are seen as important cultural events. A quick Google search erases any such rosy pictures.
Coachella? Ten Tips for Women Travelling Alone. Carnival? Tips for Surviving Carnival, or even Turning an Infamously Sexist City Into a Safe Space for Women. Holi? Seven Ways Women Can Feel Safe During Holi.
As part of the University of Delhi’s English undergraduate degree, we study The Rover by the female Restoration playwright Aphra Behn (1640-1689). This play, set in Naples, contains a carnival as an important feature of the plot. For the two main female characters – Hellena who is being pushed into joining a convent by her father and brother, and Florinda who is being forced into marriage to an old man – the carnival becomes a space where they can explore their freedoms. Hellena wishes to find love at an equal platform with her partner, while Florinda wishes to spend time with her beloved, a young soldier. Clearly, for them this is an opportunity to explore themselves and the world, away from male familial diktats.
What is telling is how the male characters treat the carnival. Upon arriving at Naples, the titular Rover, Willmore, describes the carnival as a period of ‘legal, authorized fornication’. As Florinda waits for her beau, to whom she has expressed consent for amorous activities, Willmore stumbles onto the scene and takes Florinda’s consent (to one specific person in one specific context) as though she has ceded all autonomy over her body – he attempts to rape her, desisting only when he is frightened off.
Nearly 400 years later, attitudes do not seem to have changed. The Carnival in Brazil is a time for colourful revelry that marks the beginning of the austere period of Lent. It involves vibrant costumes and dancing in public streets. Men dominate these activities, and according to a 2016 survey by the Sao Paulo-based research firm Data Popular, 61 percent of men think single women attending Carnival should not complain about sexual harassment, while 49 percent agree a Carnival block is no place for a decent woman.
Public spaces in north India, Delhi in particular, are much the same. Roads are populated by men, whether as pedestrians, hawkers, or mere loiterers. Male eyes follow any woman – whether she is alone or in a group, whether she’s old or young, irrespective of attire or time of day. The gaze isn’t merely sexual entitlement, it signals a power dynamic that has existed in some form or other, for centuries. The gaze suggests that in social consciousness, women’s bodies do not belong in the public sphere, and women’s bodies that do venture into public are seen as as objects to be looked at.
Festivals such as Holi, traditionally celebrated in public spaces with friends and strangers alike, pose a whole host of concerns. Apart from the toxicity of chemical colours and the wastage of water, women have to contend with their bodily autonomy being violated which is excused by the pithy phrase ‘bura na mano, Holi hai.’ Don’t be upset, it’s Holi.
So colour is smeared on women, even if they don’t want it, by complete strangers. Women are drenched with water mixed with substances ranging from egg yolk, mud, tomatoes, and even, purportedly, semen. Of course, these horrifying (yet sadly, normalised) incidents are not limited to the day of Holi. Women commuting to and from work, educational institutions, or even just exercising their right to public spaces are pelted with water balloons in the weeks leading up to the festival.
Specifically, water-ballooning does several things. Apart from the physical pain and shock, and the discomfort due to being drenched with foreign substances, women learn that they are not equal citizens, they are not welcome in public spaces. It is reinforced for women that their bodily autonomy means nothing. And men – ranging from elementary school boys to old men – are told yet again that they may do as they please, that their actions do not have consequences, and their ‘fun’ has more value that a woman’s feeling of safety in public spaces.
In March 1981, women students of St. Stephens’ College, University of Delhi were attacked and molested within their own college premises by a gang of nearly 40 men on the pretext of playing Holi. In late February 2018, several women students of Lady Shri Ram College have been pelted with water balloons filled, reportedly, with semen, on the same pretext. In 1981, they filed complaints, no action was taken, and women students feared that their parents would withdraw them from college.
In 2018, over 30 years later, these fears do not seem unfounded. Complaints have been filed; reportedly, the sale and use of water balloons has been banned around Lady Shri Ram College, and police patrolling has been increased. In 1981, the women initiated awareness campaigns in schools and neighbourhoods and set up Vigilance Committees across colleges. In 2018, protest marches and discussion groups have already been organised. Social media has been utilised to highlight the frequency and volume of such incidents. There are plans for awareness workshops in schools and colleges in the locality, and to engage private residents through the RWAs of the region.
Of course, social media is seen by men as an extension of physical public spaces. Women using it to share their views and speak out about inequalities are, very ironically, likened to white supremacist groups. Slurs against women are thrown around casually, and men quibble over insignificant matters such as the substances in the water balloons. What does it matter what the balloons contained? What matters is that women were pelted without their consent and their free access to public spaces was violated. What matters is that women (and indeed other non-majority groups) are made to feel unwelcome in public spaces. What matters is that women need to worry about their physical well-being instead of being free to celebrate.
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Telescope: Watching the worst in us
Coverage of Sridevi’s death was tasteless and insensitive. Is anyone surprised?
If only they had abided by their own hashtag, “#RIP” and let Sridevi rest in peace and the bereaved mourn in silence. As it was, had it not been so saddening, it would have been laughable. Not sure what was the most ludicrous, demeaning and obscene or all three: The Mahaa News reporter sprawled in a bathtub, “Sridevi lying in a bathtub” (CNN News 18) or the cut-outs of Boney Kapoor and his wife in the bedroom (Zee Hindustan) — TV 9’s cadaverous imagination had Sridevi’s body in the tub with Boney Kapoor standing by (also News X).
Or was it the glass of red wine floating into bathroom scenes on so many news channels (like ABP, Aaj Tak) no sooner had Khaleej Times reported “the stunning twist” (India Today) that “traces of alcohol” had been found in Sridevi’s forensic reports on Monday afternoon? You thought any second then, the thirsty but hale and hearty reporter/anchor would reach out, gulp down the “sharaab” as Hindi news channels pronounced with censorious disapproval (“kya sharaab ne le li megastar ki jaan?” — News 24), lose “consciousness”, fall into the bathwater, drown and become “considerably bloated” (as a “source” close to those close to the Kapoor family confided in Arnab Goswami) — all in the space of “40 minutes” (Republic). Then he/she could have “died” and returned from the dead to tell the tale.
That’s how ludicrous it all was.
For the mathematician in Goswami, it just “didn’t add up”. He claimed “evidence had been destroyed” by the Dubai police opening the hotel bedroom, where Sridevi had stayed. His co-anchor suggested a second autopsy be conducted in India, something a “varisht patrakaar” on Zee Hindustan seconded. “Kya sadma ek hatya hai?” asked the channel while India News reported Sridevi had a “head injury” and a “deep wound” — something that Khaleej Times’ Abhishek Sengupta flatly denied. He and the editor of Gulf News were the most sought after journalists from Dubai — that is until India Today’s Gaurav Sawant flew in to investigate “Diva found dead in bathtub” only to discover that the Dubai authorities had “closed the case”.
Not for the likes of Goswami, who for two successive nights relentlessly pursued the “megastar” in death with “legit” “unanswered questions”, rather like news channels, which pursued the ambulance carrying Sridevi’s “mortal remains” (why couldn’t they simply say “body”?) from Mumbai airport to her home, Tuesday night, and the SUV apparently conveying Karti Chidambaram to a Delhi court on Wednesday (NDTV 24×7).
Such needless, tasteless, cruelty as they piously proclaimed “Alvida Sridevi” (Zee News). No more needless than Times Now measuring out her life and death in feet and inches: Could a 5’ 6” person drown in a 5-foot wide tub, which was 24 inches deep? Or the theory that the allegedly repeated plastic surgery may have been the culprit — India Today, in all seriousness, invited a plastic surgeon for an opinion (Sunday) along with Dr Naresh Trehan on the “cardiac arrest”.
No more needless than the chatter, Wednesday morning, as her body lay in state at the Celebration Sports Club. In the parade of Bollywood stars, actors were identified — Karan Johar arrives, Rekha is here, etc — and the Aaj Tak reporter described Sridevi dressed like a “dulhan” and how much who cried, none apparently more than Vidya Balan who had to be consoled by Sonam Kapoor. Did we need to know any of this? None more tasteless than ABP’s needle of suspicion in a graphic showing a syringe about to pierce “botoxed” lips. None more cruel than the photos making the rounds of social media on Tuesday and shown on, at least India TV’s “Aaj Ka Viral” of a “first look” at Sridevi’s body, and her face on TV 9.
And what of the repeats, over three days, of her “final 15 minutes alive” on almost all Hindi news channels? “What happened in those last 15 minutes that led to her death?’ asked India TV. It went on to detail the final moments — she was “surprised to see Boney”, the time and space- traveling anchor claimed — or what it called “maut ki neend” in “Maut ka bathtub”. Why didn’t they all get thrown out with the bathwater?
Then there were her “last” photographs in death, her “last” photographs and videos, in life, at the wedding she attended in Dubai, her “last” smile on an aircraft before she left Mumbai for Dubai (ABP came up with the infelicitous “death’s silent scream”), her lasting contribution as Bollywood’s “first female megastar” (Times Now) and, all day Wednesday, her “last journey”.
Many viewers have criticised the coverage of Sridevi’s death, but are any of us really surprised? Perhaps by how far they are willing to sink into the bathwater to come up with “stories”. Remember the Aarushi murder case, the insensitive reconstructions, speculation and “detective” cloak and dagger stuff? Could anything be worse?
We are complicit. We watch the worst they do in fascinated horror or horrified fascination.
Who will bid “alvida” to them?
HAPPY HOLI TO ALL IFN FRIENDS
http://indianexpress.com/article/opinion/happy-holi-lsr-college-semen-filled-water-balloon-women-girls-festival-5083537/
Hum Bura Manenge, Holi Hai
Across cultures, human beings come together to celebrate and make merry in public spaces, which are meant to be equally accessible to all. Whether it be the Coachella Music Festival in the US, the Carnival in Brazil, or even Holi in northern India, these celebrations offer not only a sensory spectacle but also allow for a suspension of the usual social hierarchies. In school, we’re taught that these festivals are about togetherness and love. These celebrations are seen as important cultural events. A quick Google search erases any such rosy pictures.
Coachella? Ten Tips for Women Travelling Alone. Carnival? Tips for Surviving Carnival, or even Turning an Infamously Sexist City Into a Safe Space for Women. Holi? Seven Ways Women Can Feel Safe During Holi.
As part of the University of Delhi’s English undergraduate degree, we study The Rover by the female Restoration playwright Aphra Behn (1640-1689). This play, set in Naples, contains a carnival as an important feature of the plot. For the two main female characters – Hellena who is being pushed into joining a convent by her father and brother, and Florinda who is being forced into marriage to an old man – the carnival becomes a space where they can explore their freedoms. Hellena wishes to find love at an equal platform with her partner, while Florinda wishes to spend time with her beloved, a young soldier. Clearly, for them this is an opportunity to explore themselves and the world, away from male familial diktats.
What is telling is how the male characters treat the carnival. Upon arriving at Naples, the titular Rover, Willmore, describes the carnival as a period of ‘legal, authorized fornication’. As Florinda waits for her beau, to whom she has expressed consent for amorous activities, Willmore stumbles onto the scene and takes Florinda’s consent (to one specific person in one specific context) as though she has ceded all autonomy over her body – he attempts to rape her, desisting only when he is frightened off.
Nearly 400 years later, attitudes do not seem to have changed. The Carnival in Brazil is a time for colourful revelry that marks the beginning of the austere period of Lent. It involves vibrant costumes and dancing in public streets. Men dominate these activities, and according to a 2016 survey by the Sao Paulo-based research firm Data Popular, 61 percent of men think single women attending Carnival should not complain about sexual harassment, while 49 percent agree a Carnival block is no place for a decent woman.
Public spaces in north India, Delhi in particular, are much the same. Roads are populated by men, whether as pedestrians, hawkers, or mere loiterers. Male eyes follow any woman – whether she is alone or in a group, whether she’s old or young, irrespective of attire or time of day. The gaze isn’t merely sexual entitlement, it signals a power dynamic that has existed in some form or other, for centuries. The gaze suggests that in social consciousness, women’s bodies do not belong in the public sphere, and women’s bodies that do venture into public are seen as as objects to be looked at.
Festivals such as Holi, traditionally celebrated in public spaces with friends and strangers alike, pose a whole host of concerns. Apart from the toxicity of chemical colours and the wastage of water, women have to contend with their bodily autonomy being violated which is excused by the pithy phrase ‘bura na mano, Holi hai.’ Don’t be upset, it’s Holi.
So colour is smeared on women, even if they don’t want it, by complete strangers. Women are drenched with water mixed with substances ranging from egg yolk, mud, tomatoes, and even, purportedly, semen. Of course, these horrifying (yet sadly, normalised) incidents are not limited to the day of Holi. Women commuting to and from work, educational institutions, or even just exercising their right to public spaces are pelted with water balloons in the weeks leading up to the festival.
Specifically, water-ballooning does several things. Apart from the physical pain and shock, and the discomfort due to being drenched with foreign substances, women learn that they are not equal citizens, they are not welcome in public spaces. It is reinforced for women that their bodily autonomy means nothing. And men – ranging from elementary school boys to old men – are told yet again that they may do as they please, that their actions do not have consequences, and their ‘fun’ has more value that a woman’s feeling of safety in public spaces.
In March 1981, women students of St. Stephens’ College, University of Delhi were attacked and molested within their own college premises by a gang of nearly 40 men on the pretext of playing Holi. In late February 2018, several women students of Lady Shri Ram College have been pelted with water balloons filled, reportedly, with semen, on the same pretext. In 1981, they filed complaints, no action was taken, and women students feared that their parents would withdraw them from college.
In 2018, over 30 years later, these fears do not seem unfounded. Complaints have been filed; reportedly, the sale and use of water balloons has been banned around Lady Shri Ram College, and police patrolling has been increased. In 1981, the women initiated awareness campaigns in schools and neighbourhoods and set up Vigilance Committees across colleges. In 2018, protest marches and discussion groups have already been organised. Social media has been utilised to highlight the frequency and volume of such incidents. There are plans for awareness workshops in schools and colleges in the locality, and to engage private residents through the RWAs of the region.
Of course, social media is seen by men as an extension of physical public spaces. Women using it to share their views and speak out about inequalities are, very ironically, likened to white supremacist groups. Slurs against women are thrown around casually, and men quibble over insignificant matters such as the substances in the water balloons. What does it matter what the balloons contained? What matters is that women were pelted without their consent and their free access to public spaces was violated. What matters is that women (and indeed other non-majority groups) are made to feel unwelcome in public spaces. What matters is that women need to worry about their physical well-being instead of being free to celebrate.