I don’t want to waste valuable space reiterating social commentator Piyali Ganguly’s note that has been doing the rounds since veteran actor Sridevi’s demise. Unless you have been devoid of human interaction, I am sure you have seen it, maybe even passed it around or spent sometime speculating its substance.
If you are still wondering what the hell I’m talking about, it’s that note that pinned continuous clinic visits, caring too much about her body and chasing couture to the actor’s death. Though the post has been shot down online for its bad timing, nothing has been able to stop it from giving rise to sweeping generalisations of actors being in loveless relationships and reduced merely to arm candies, and celebrities on crash diets.
Piyali accuses Sridevi of having patriarchal implants, but I doubt if it can be said only of her, while we, the masses and the mercenaries of body policing would have never let her live it down (god bless her soul) had she let her age or fat show. For those who passed on the message to another person, duly agreeing with it and not using logic to render the message baseless, I only hope we find a way to implant brains.
Before we demand to know why the media is stooping to new lows with bathroom conspiracies and bathtub simulations, let us ask ourselves if we are getting only what we want, and that’s all we merit for being distasteful. If we cannot grieve the loss of a legend without moral lenses clouding our mourning or learning of the trajectory that led to an untimely death, we deserve no better than this shameful reportage.
With every celebrity death, the spotlight returns to the audience and shows us who we are as a society — a bunch of voyeurs craving drama, a chance to accuse and remove ourselves from the guilt, peeping toms that feel better watching someone’s life being worse off than ours.
To a country that looks up to its superstars for every aspect of its lives I ask, how does it matter how one dies? Of course, as people who have adopted her into our lives and spent a lifetime following her work, we may believe we have a right to know if foul play is involved, but do we really? Why are we unable to process the passing of an icon without feeling the need to pounce on every little piece of information?
Even without the given possibilities of clothes horsing and conspiring, would the death of Sridevi be any less tragic? No, for we lost a star, fore-runner and a firebrand performer.
Take then a moment, or even a few days to mourn her demise. And between making peace with syringes and hopefully moving on to the war in Syria, take some time to mourn the loss of our collective consciousness and the integrity of the Indian media.
Archanaa Seker
seker.archanaa@gmail.com
The writer is a city-based activist, in-your-face feminist and a media glutton