This is an imaginary satirical account of a news anchor. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental… Or is it??? He had quit the job to better serve the country by volunteering a party in its dharnas and by managing their press conferences.
Nonetheless, I was more than happy to enter the living rooms of people all over urban English-speaking India at 9pm every night. Moreover, I was assigned to cover the political debates where I had to ask tough questions; but whose answers were already ready.
The esteemed panelists for the night included — an eternal youth icon IITian-cum-IIM graduate-cum-banker-author-screenwriter, a Social Media expert and extrovertly eloquent spokespersons from major political parties whose presence was mandatory irrespective of the topic of debate. They hurled their opinions and accusations at one another with utter scorn and no logic. The debate was so heated-up that my attempts to heat it up more failed every time.
I rushed home hoping to be welcomed by my exuberating family members. Instead, I found my wife was suitably standing in the familiar position facing the gas stove, and my son languishing on the sofa with the remote in his fist. Well, they must have missed the show. It was really boring. And did someone trick you into believing that your microphone was not working. You were so loud that mom thought for a moment that you were home.
I forced myself to watch the mundane news channel where retired ministry officials and old polity critics were discussing the role of West Bengal government in tackling trade obstacles and insurgencies on the border, its influences on National Foreign Policy on Bangladesh and the evolution of Centre-State relationships in India. The panelists were all hands-in-glove with each other; no rebuttals, no out-of-turn shouting.
