Kishore Singh: Free pizza, must-watch TV

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Later today, my wife and I will have tea with the President or "" seeing that she is likely to have extended the invitation to several hundred more people than she can hope to say namaste to individually "" at any rate, tea at the Rashtrapati Bhawan. Which, as I said to the children, is not to be frowned at, even though in the past at least the kitchens of the Supreme Commander et cetera have run more to quantity than quality. I mean, vadas with coconut chutney may be fine as an office snack, but you expect the Presidential palate to extend to at least tuna fish sandwiches, if not foie gras.

Still, it is an honour, even given the security frisking, and having to drop by early to await the President's arrival (during which time if you want to go to the loo, you cause a state embarrassment), so I was certainly not expecting my wife's reaction to be tepid.

"Do we," she asked, "really have to go?" I looked at her closely, checked for fever, held up the glass from which I had been drinking (in case I was hallucinating). Finally, convinced that she really wasn't keen on it, I couldn't help but ask why.

"We could have tea at home," she offered hopefully. We already did, I reminded her, have tea at home every day, that is.

"Yes, and what's wrong with that!" she exclaimed. Clearly something was bothering her, so to defer the conversation a bit, I reached for the television remote. "No, not that," shouted my wife, "I'll have tea with the President every day if you say, but please don't switch on the television."

Even for someone who isn't inordinately fond of the idiot box, her reaction was extreme. "Is something wrong?" I asked.

Of course," she screamed, "everything is bloody wrong." And then it all poured out "" how she couldn't bear one more glimpse of Simi Grewal or Karan Johar or Saroj Khan trying to police amateur talent as we slumped before them as though in a stupor.

And then it all clicked together: my wife was suffering from NDTV Imagine fatigue. Imagine, for those of you fortunately not in the know, is a new entertainment channel from NDTV, and the reason I know is because the channel thoughtfully had a pizza delivered to us on Monday evening, the day of its launch, with a flyer exhorting us to watch its new offerings.

So we heated the (vegetarian, alas) "Mexicana" in the microwave (it was delivered stone-cold), found the channel "" and almost gagged.

It wasn't just that the content was bad, it was also amateurish, so having surfed back and forth a bit to sample its launch programmes, we were happy to give it a hasty burial and switch to others that have better stood the test of our household's curiously temperamental choices.

And there it would have rested if the pizza delivery boy had not come back "" to have the bill (Rs 440) signed. "Is it right," asked my wife, "to eat their pizza and not watch their channel?" Which, if you think about it, was a dirty trick to play on unsuspecting but guilt-stricken viewers "" so till we have paid off the bill by watching the channel for 440 days, we're hooked.

And which is why my wife is now wary of accepting invitations, no matter where they originate. "Don't be silly," I assured her, "I'm sure the President's recent raise is enough for her to take care of the tea bill."

Finally, therefore, we will have chai with Pratibha-tai, vadas and all. "Though I'd be happier," murmured my wife, "if we could send a cheque of Rs 440 to NDTV Imagine and absolve ourselves of their debt."