After years of search on YouTube, I finally stumbled upon Farmaan, a Doordarshan serial directed by Lekh Tandon. Based on the Urdu book Alampanah by Rafia  Amin, the serial starring Kanwaljit Singh and Deepika Deshpande was a restless memory that even two decades could not erase. And for good reason. The story telling was honest to the spine of the book as it brought to life Hyderabad’s Nawabi culture in the throes of change, financial challenges, the disintegration of  tehzeeb and more, in real havelis and high-pillared corridors, and not fake, overdone sets,  And amid all this was the love story of a bitterly dark Aazar Nawab (a dapper Kanwaljit Singh) and the delightfully spunky Aiman Shahab played by Deepika Deshpande who even without fake eyelashes, loud make up and gaudy sarees has presence.

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The story had the intensity, tugs and hooks of a conventional  romance. Only it was much better, layered as it was with the poetry, interesting dialects, the various colours of Urdu spoken by the aristocrats and those who worked for them and then there were the authentic locations, from  forests to bungalows to havelis being converted into hotels to keep up with the times. Everything rang true and it flowed without investing any worry in whether the audience would take to the story, its pace, its zubaan or its characters, some of whom were unapologetically unglamorous. And yet, here we are, still remembering it all these years later because it did not dumb down or sell out its vision. Because it aspired to be a classic and became one.
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I still remember like it was yesterday.. the open war between the protagonists, the word play crackling with sensuality and the occasional moments of tenderness as when the unusually gentle Aazar Nawab watches Aiman cry her heart out over her late father by a moonlit lake, wordlessly comforts her and embraces her and you just know that a barrier has been breached and love has arrived. Kanwaljit Singh played the impossibly magnetic, dangerously complex but  unsparingly upright Nawab with conviction though in retrospect he comes across in many scenes as a sexist boor representative of a time where women were conquered not won over. You want to slap him hard when he defines what makes a woman strong..her ‘auratpan’ because of course a woman cannot aspire to to be great and only support great men.  And he continually gets physical with Aiman which of course then was supposed to be a sign of romance and not male appropriation of a woman’s body. Another flaw is how a middle aged aunt is shown repenting her ‘indiscretions’ in the end and marriage and faith are shown to be the ultimate sanctuaries for women.  But there are moments that make Aazar human. Him walking down the corridor of his home, framed by the glowing arches of the verandah as if to memorise the few moments of tranquility before change arrives at his doorstep. And  him by the lake, surrounded by tobacco smoke, discovering that he is not alone. That Aiman is sitting at a distance, throwing little pebbles in the lake almost symbolically to send ripples of change in his life  that would also change him forever.
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I cannot recall a single television series today that is  integrated and uncompromised. We have so much going wrong in the real world that it seems a waste of time sometimes to write about films and music and TV but the arts reflect at some level what is becoming of our society and the biggest loss everywhere is the one of integrity. You can mourn everything but not this because you won’t even know when the root soil of your being was replaced by sand. You see this loss everywhere. In cinema where films are made with more packaging than substance. In the publishing industry where books are written and published to serve slot machines for a quick jackpot. In sports where matches are thrown for money. In politics. In our daily life.  There are a million if not more interventions in the creative process. Vision that endures is non-existent  and derivation sells itself brazenly while the  unheard music within a story, dies a quiet death. Films pretend to stray from the formula and yet create new versions of  titillating violence and misogyny.  Many struggling writers are approached to ghost write for a little money by film makers, lazy authors and unimaginative television writers.
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The Indian television industry, right now is going through its worst phase ever and is still obsessed with TRP chasing multiple marriage tracks, sudden deaths of key characters, inexplicable grays in perfectly sunny narratives, supplanted faces, unnecessary intrigue, ghoonghat and butter knife suspense, sindoor and mangalsutra verbiage and mind numbing background music immortalised by the Ekta Kapoor monoliths of the 90s.
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The frightening thing is that creative minds in television today want to be cookie cutters designed by Ekta Kapoor and have no aspirations to do what the likes of Ramesh Sippy, Aziz Mirza, Benegal and Nihalani once did. Set certain standards by creating path-breaking TV content like Buniyaad, Nukkad, Bharat Ek Khoj and Tamas. Ms Kapoor took the focus away from creative content to commercial manipulation and created a jerky, non-integrated manner of  narration that tries to do everything except engage the viewer with simple, honest story telling. It worked in the 90s and should be overhauled now but who wants to bell the TRP ghost that says actor Mona Ambegaonkar is a creation that everyone is afraid of but no one can see? So a dance show like Jhalak Dikhla Ja on Colours is reduced to a stand up comedy show with a contestant making tongue gestures at judge Remo Fernandes and being carried and dropped by assorted celebrities, in the process, taking the votes and the limelight away from those who work harder than her at what the show is really about. Dance.
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We have a Singapore track in Diya Aur Baati Hum (Star Plus) where fake English accents and broad generalisations are used to depict how superior Indians are to the rest of the world and most daily soaps are busy creating bizarre conflicts. Just like films that cannot do without item numbers, daily soaps in India cannot do without unnecessary transgressions.
A slow-burning, potential  classic like Na Bole Tum Na Maine Kuch Kaha on Colours which attracted an audience that has never been drawn to the daily soap trap, with its beautifully crafted characters, subtle dialogue, unhurried detailing and a clear intent to be a counterpoint to melodrama, has now been unforgivably butchered at the altar of TRPs.  The show was once  slowly but surely working its way towards a ground swell of support but from a nuanced love story between two memorably understated characters, its narrative has degenerated to a level where there seems to be no investment of refinement or subtlety in characterisation or plot development by the makers.  The  introduction of a pill popping vamp, a bewigged twin in an atrocious comedy track and the dilution of the theme that has no longer anything interesting to say, is a sad comment on how even  brave creative teams land right in the middle of  a rut  after fighting it initially.
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Thousands of  followers who had grown to love the show feel betrayed especially on behalf of the much loved lead actors who deserve a better plot to play with but the TRP juggernaut rolls on, in the process dumbing down and shockingly fragmenting the conviction that made the show a clutter breaker initially. As for me, I am back to YouTube, searching for simpler times when stories were allowed to keep their souls and their innocence intact. For stories that did not insult your intelligence. For episodes of Kacchi Dhoop, Phir Wohi Talaash and Neenv...if only  to  remember what it was like once upon a time to watch an Indian soap without cringing and flinching.
Reema Moudgil has been writing for magazines and newspapers on art, cinema, issues, architecture and more since 1994, is an RJ, hosts a daily Ghazal show, runs unboxed writers, is the editor of Chicken Soup for The Indian Woman’s soul, the author of Perfect Eight (http://www.flipkart.com/perfect-eight-9380032870/p/itmdf87fpkhszfkb?pid=9789380032870&_l=A0vO9n9FWsBsMJKAKw47rw–&_r=dyRavyz2qKxOF7Yuc ) and an artist.