Nishanth S Coontoor

It’s about 9.30 pm on a humid Friday in downtown Cincinnati. We are playing pool at a local watering hole. And I think I just won.

Tak!

“Did I just win!? Wohoo! High five!”

I raise my hand in excitement. I get no response. The waitress however walks over and hands me a bill. 

“But there is another white ball on the table. I can still win. Hic hic!” said a friend now filled with several glasses of red wine. 

He picked up the ball and dropped it in the pocket.

“SEE! I did it! I think I won. Not you. I won. You’re a liar just like my professor. I won. I can finish my thesis.”

I gave up.

“Okay, let’s go join the others. And this bill is yours. Here, take it.”

“…professor…graduate…defend…proposal…” he continued to murmur.

“And you need to sit down. Try this drink.”

I hand him my glass.

“Hat you drinkin’? I’m a connoisseur of wine – not a bewda (drunkard),” he insisted.

“It’s called H2O light. It takes a while to hit you though. You will be fine. And its free,” I assure him.

When we reached the comforts of the corner couch, the gang decided to play ‘Never have I ever.’

The game was simple. Each person takes turns to share an unbelievable experience in one sentence starting with a ‘Never have I ever…’ Others guess if it is true or false followed be the revelation. For example, never have I ever got arrested. Or never have I ever gotten someone fired at work. Or never have I ever won a lottery.

I was feeling pretty badass that evening. And it was not even because it was 9.55 pm and I was not in bed!

Anyway, I had an unbelievable story in mind. Remember those signs on highways that say ‘No stopping or standing or parking’? I was once a rebel who stopped in front of this sign to switch seats. For the 2 minutes that I had stopped, I lived the thug life. Yeah, I was a thug once, bitch!

For some reason, as the game went on, my story started to appear dull. I frantically started searching my head for a story. It was empty. No, no, the part of my head that has stories, not my head per se. But then again it depends on who you ask. Let’s just not go there, please okay thank you.

“So, what is your wild streak story buddy?” asked one.

“Never…hhhmm…never…hhhmmm…”

I could almost see the ‘Still Loading. 78% complete’ Windows 95 dialog box in front of my eyes. The brain was working. About time, I’d say.

And that’s when it happened.

“Never have I ever sat through 2 hrs of today’s Hindi and Kannada TV serials and survived to tell the tale.”

There was pin drop silence. Aishwarya looked at Rahul. Rahul looked at Nithesh. Nithesh looked at Ayush. Well, Ayush was looking at a chick all evening. 

Clearly, everyone was speechless.

Rahul stood up and pat my back to comfort me with a ‘Aap theek ho?’ (Are you okay?)

Aap? Respect? That’s a first. 

I was offered a full glass of water.

“Take your time. You’re such a brave man.”

*

It started when I was in India recently for a vacation in a vacation. It’s a complicated story. I began to reminiscence my childhood days over a hot cup of Complan – the complete planned food.

Growing up, my weekday routine involved school, tuition, play, TV and homework. I would finish tuitions by 6 pm. Finish playing by 7.30 pm. (My dad had strict rules that kids do NOT stay at home in the evenings. During tests and exams, I had to beg him to let me stay at home and study). In the meantime, my mother would finish watching her batch of Tamil serials between 7 and 8 pm.

The TV would be mine between 8 and 9 pm. This was followed by news during family dinner before opening our doors and shutting down logic to Ekta Kapoor at 10 pm. 

This was the era of Instant Khichdi, Hatim, Son Pari and the new Star one channel. I also grew up watching Hum Paanch, Idhar Udhar, Dekh Bhai Dekh, Small Wonder, Malgudi Days, I dream of a Jeannie in a bottle and Sarabhai vs Sarabhai.

Sunday mornings were reserved for Rangoli, Mahabharath, Ji Mantri Ji and Musafir Hoon Yaroon. The good old days. I still watch some of these shows during downtime to reboot.

I have no clue what’s on Indian TV today in 2017 though. That evening, I challenged myself to get out of my comfort zone of Game of thrones, John Oliver, Silicon Valley, Parks and Recreation and instead watch the TV that brought us three Mihir Viranis.

I sat with mum to watch my first serial. She was watching a Kannada serial called Brahmagantu (Sacred knot, in English).

It’s the story of an overweight girl called Geetha. She is a lively and a good person but, yes, believe it or not, it’s a deal breaker – fat. She will eventually marry Lucky, a fit guy who is a wrestler. The serial, I presume, is about how she gets from her current position to eventually marrying the guy with the possibility of some ab workouts along the way to lose weight.

“I am not watching these stupid serials. I’m going to watch football,” my dad declared, before abandoning his wife and kid (me). He had invested in a second TV the day the world realized Mihir Virani was indeed – alive.

He walked away to the bedroom.

The scene playing on screen had three characters. Geetha, the obese and two other ladies. They were about to eat some rotis (Indian flat bread).

One of the ladies, my guess is out of love, decided to feed Geetha. Actually, I take that back. She said so herself because the dialog was followed by a sentimental music and tears.

Anyway, the camera focused on the roti. You guessed right-she tore a small piece (step 1 complete), and was about to feed Geetha (step 2) when it happened.

Geetha stopped her.

The roti had a thin layer of ghee!

The frame paused for a moment.

“Oh ho,” gasped my mother.

Geetha was trying to lose weight or the societal understanding was that she had to lose weight – I am unsure.

My dad walked in to ‘get some water.’ He ‘casually glanced’ toward the TV and asked if Geetha gave into her moment of weakness.

(Wait, he knows who Geetha is and what was going on? Is there really a football match today?)

“She still hasn’t eaten,” advised my mother.

He declared this was a stupid serial and disappeared to the bedroom again.

Anyway, back on the serial, the three ladies were again filled with tears. That piece of ghee-wali-roti still in the frame.

The ladies were trying to comfort Geetha. They empathized with her. They discussed life. They discussed her good nature. And at the end of it all – it boiled down to her wedding. How could she find love if she was fat?

20 minutes into the dinner scene, the serial ended abruptly as my dad appeared (again) out of nowhere asking if Geetha ate her roti.

“Not yet-maybe tomorrow,” replied my mother.

That day, dear Miss fat Geetha sacrificed ghee wali roti to find love. What did you sacrifice for love?

Soon, it was time to switch scenes and enter the life of a rich family based in Rajasthan. The Hindi serial was called Peheredaar Piya Ki (The One who takes care?). It had hukums, palaces, luxury cars, money and gold, servants and of course, enemies to defend them all from.

“It’s a new concept,” explained an internet reviewer.

5 minutes into the serial and I realized that it’s about a 10 year old kid who gets married-like for real married-to a woman at least 2.5 times his age!

I was done for the day. I could somewhat relate to Geetha giving up ghee wali roti to lose weight because I was trying to eat right as well. But realizing that the kid (with money) got a girlfriend while I had failed in this project was too much to handle.

The family agreed and we went back to watching Arnab shout at his guests.

That was day one. I was doing relatively fine. I was a little disturbed but nothing that Hanuman Chalisa by MS Subbhalakshmi could not solve.

For day 2, I was feeling a bit courageous. While Geetha and her family were still deciding who will eat the roti, I picked up my personal laptop, declared that I had “office work” and was not to be disturbed. I was going to dare to watch Sasuraal Simar Ka (The household of Simar). I locked the room for privacy.

I sensed an awkward silence. I quickly went back and clarified I was going to watch an episode to blog about later. It was necessary.

I opened Youtube. There were no full episodes. Each clip was about a minute long. Maybe it was a good thing?

The first clip showed the entire family sitting at the breakfast table all dressed in fancy clothes. The ladies were wearing heavy jewelry and the guys wore those costly sherwanis only dry cleaned and reserved for your rich friend’s wedding. The servant was about to serve rotis (again) when the mother-in-law stopped her.

The enlightened and learned mother-in-law explained how it was unhealthy to eat heavy for breakfast. She wanted fruit instead. She was about eat a piece of fruit when she was interrupted (again) by a fly!

And guess what? The fly is Simar (the main character in the serial!) I bet a hundred flies you did not think of that!

So, Simar, the dutiful, designer saree clad, red bindi daughter-in-law has been cursed to become a fly because she disturbed a meditating saint. Yes, it’s for real!

The clip ended. I stared at the laptop screen. I did not know what I was feeling. Do I need to find this funny or should I be sad for Simar? Maybe I need to feel sad for myself because I unknowingly walked into this challenge of watching a new TV serial. What am I doing in life? Why am I doing what I am doing?

Youtube’s autoplay was unstoppable. The next episode introduced a Witch attempting to kill the mother-in-law, a now human Simar trying to fight her with swords. Another introduced an aunt who is really a gangster in the reel life. She could easily pass off as anyone’s adorable mother but she was a gun wielding gangster.

A third clip-from a different serial called Nagini took me through the trials and tribulations of a daughter in law who is a snake! She can transform between being human and a reptile. She has fallen for her human husband who does not love her but agreed to marry her? This series had a concept upgrade though-it had 2 honeybees who could turn into their human forms on the fly. Thapki Pyaar Ki, another serial, has a gorilla in love with the lead.

I immediately closed my laptop screen. I pushed it one arm’s distance away. I still felt threatened. I pushed myself to a corner.

I could hear Geetha’s voice through the door. The serial was still on TV.

I laid on my side in a fetus position. I did not want to ever leave the room. The reel world of 2017 was scary. It isn’t meant for a 90s kid. I am happy being stuck in the 90s TV world of Monica and Chandler, of Sunnu and Punnu and Sudhir, of Swami and Vicky.

It took me several weeks to recover from the shock and return to normalcy. I’ve had some panic attacks but I made it through. During a conference call with a warehouse manager and the Vice President at work, I saw a fly enter the conference room. For a minute, I thought it was Simar. I blanked out with fear. Then I realized that there is no way that Simar can get a VISA to come to the United States. And thankfully it’s a long way to fly for a fly from Mumbai to Cincinnati.

I am scared of flies.