This is that increasingly rare phenomenon these days: a positive story about television and reality shows. It begins with the Orissa Chief Minister Naveen Patnaik, hearing people talk about the Prince Dance Troupe that had recently
appeared on India’s Got Talent, on Colors. Patnaik is not, it must be said, a devoted watcher of Hindi entertainment channels. So he asks for a recording of the show. What he sees moves him to tears (and he is not the kind of guy who cries too often).
The Prince Dance Troupe consists of
labourers from Orissa, two of whom have had their legs damaged by polio, who perform the most incredible routines. When the judges asked about what they do for a living, they are reluctant to answer. It turns out that they do not want the ‘pity vote’ and have no desire to elicit such comments as “imagine, they are just labourers!” They want to be judged on the basis of talent alone.
Patnaik is overwhelmed. He finds their numbers and phones them to say that they must come to his house when they return to Orissa. Then, he launches a one-man campaign on their behalf. He rings every media person he knows and spreads the word. They should all watch the Prince Troupe’s performances on You Tube. Otherwise he can send them recordings. It doesn’t matter whether they write about the troupe — though, of course, he would prefer it if they did — but they must certainly watch India’s Got Talent and vote for the Prince Dance Troupe.
I’ve known Patnaik for a frighteningly long time, much before anybody thought he would (or could) enter politics and when his friends still called him Pappu. I know that his ideas of music and dance range all the way from Mick Jagger to the Royal Ballet. I doubt if he knows who Farah Khan, Shreya Ghoshal or even Mithun Chakraborty are. So what on earth was he doing pushing the cause of a dance troupe on India’s Got Talent?
Fortunately Patnaik was in Delhi for a Chief Ministers Conference so I was able to ask him these questions myself. His response was to make me watch a recording of the Prince Troupe’s performance on India’s Got Talent. As judge Shekhar Kapur wept loudly and fellow judge Kiron Kher hammed it up and the studio audience went berserk, I sneaked a look at Patnaik. He was wiping his eyes. Admittedly, the performance was moving even if the judges’ responses were over-the-top (I gather Shekhar bawls for the camera on a fairly regular basis). But I was still startled to see Patnaik so overwhelmed. He is not a man given to displaying his emotions.
In Orissa, his enigmatic nature drives his MLAs crazy with worry: “does he like me/does he not?”. So why was he so moved by a recording he must surely have seen many times
before? And why was he encouraging people to vote on a TV talent show?
Part of the reason — let’s be upfront about this — is that the Prince Troupe is from Orissa. But it goes much beyond regional chauvinism. While Patnaik may not have reacted with the sobbing emotion of Shekhar Kapoor, his response was not significantly different from that of anybody else who watched the show.
I can tell you about my own reactions: I was gobsmacked by the performance. I was enormously moved by the effort that the two physically challenged dancers must have put it into the show. I was admiring their pride: nobody in the troupe wanted any special treatment because of financial or physical disadvantages. But most of all, I found the show a heart-lifting experience. Here was proof that Indians from all sections of society can find a way of rising above any disadvantages they might face and achieve a level of artistic and dramatic excellence. I said to Patnaik that I thought that none of this would have been possible without private television.
While his fellow politicians were raving and ranting about the threat posed to Indian society by satellite TV, the reality was that, far from damaging Indian society, TV was actually
empowering those on the margins who had failed to get any recognition from the systems that the political establishment had set up.
In the days before TV, what would the Prince Troupe boys have done? They would have tried to get assistance from some government-funded institute. They would have been asked to pay bribes to get in. They would have learnt nothing. And they would have left, their spirits crushed and their hearts broken. But now, because of TV, they were nationally famous. Millions of people had seen them. And even a Chief Minister was acting as their unpaid lobbyist and PR man.
Patnaik had something to add. Yes, he said, he agreed that the reality show had empowered them. But, he went on to say, had it occurred to me how boys from small towns and villages even had the knowledge to think of complicated dance routines? This too was because of TV, he said. It was because satellite TV had opened up the world to Indians that the contestants on such shows as India’s Got Talent are up to date with global trends and can match their dance steps with those they see on the box. In his view, politicians spend too much time running down TV.
In fact, TV has been an enabler without equal in Indian history. It has brought labourers from Orissa into our living rooms and made India seem that much smaller. It has cut through class divide and united us as we clap and weep at the triumphs and tragedies of fellow Indians. I think he’s right. And because he’s a politician who dares to think differently, my respect for him has gone up a notch.