Sharp dialogue, high-voltage drama, a sting operation, wads of bank notes, and if you throw in Lalu Prasad, some comedy and film songs as well — the Indian parliament is now prime time TV. We’ve had Kargil as TV war and the twisted Aarushi Talwar murder unfold as a serial mystery thriller with action-packed studio scenes. But never before have millions tuned in to watch a vote of confidence send ratings and political pulses racing.
Parliamentary debates are by and large desultory and dull, made up of long, boring speeches and half-empty benches; it’s one reason why papers long ago dispensed with the habit of regular columns titled “Today in Parliament” or “Parliament Notebook”. Unless it is budget or opening day, MPs can often be spotted dozing or gossiping in corners and there is generally more action to be found outside the House than within. But TV has changed all that and made the exercise of power into a live performance. Even the trust vote’s timing seemed designed to upstage the 9 o’clock news.
It has irrevocably changed the way MPs look, talk, behave or attract attention. Gone are the droning speeches filled with meaningful pauses. In their place are pithy phrases aping tabloid copy: Prime Minister Manmohan Singh won’t be a “bonded slave” of the Left; Leader of the Opposition L K Advani dismisses the government as “a patient in ICU”.
“Don’t jump from the running train,” warns Foreign Minister Pranab Mukherjee. “You will be hurt. I would advise you to wait. Let the next station come.” And Lalu Prasad, nicely summing up the return of the Aya Rams and Gaya Rams, the mainstay of government survival, quips: Everybody aspires to be prime minister … Mayawati ... everyone. I also want to be prime minister ... but I am not in a hurry.”
If you time each quotable quote you’ll find they are each 30 seconds or under, which is perfect for an ideal soundbyte. But actions speak louder than words, and parliamentarians had their skills well honed this week. The cash-for-votes drama was but a well-rehearsed sequel to the cash-for-questions ruckus, a noisy affirmation for the cash-strapped aam aadmi that money is what keeps Indian life, including dirty politics, ticking. UP Chief Minister Mayawati’s moral outrage (“a black day in the history of democracy etc.”) at the bundles of notes being waved poignantly sums up the double standard of leaders who muff up their lines. It was coming from someone who spends time explaining to the CBI how her cash reserves and assets accumulated.
Sting operations are now jaded affairs, and they may even have fallen out of fashion in the media world. Which is why no one is wasting much space in asking precisely what the mysterious tape contains, where it is now and what, if anything, the Speaker may do about it after he’s held a private screening.
Despite all the action in overdrive, the one thing that went missing last Tuesday was what the Doctor in the House had to say. Dr Manmohan Singh never got a chance to speak. Such is the practice of parliamentary democracy that the subplots overtook the main and the Prime Minister was reduced to passing on his prepared speech to the Speaker instead of giving us his prescription of survival and defence. But did the TV watching public miss the main actor on stage? I doubt it. The demands of parliament as prime time TV are entirely at variance with what used to be known as “parliamentary proceedings.”
