Monsoon and the three colour TV channel

It was a beautiful day and the clock was touching 8 am. Monsoon had just woken up, a little later than usual because her staff had served her bed-tea late. She yawned, stretched her chubby frame and straightened her disheveled hair.

As she slipped into her beautiful Chanderi kurta – a generous gift from the owner of an uppity lifestyle label, she felt a sense of achievement. After all, she was no less a celebrity. She had done well for herself. Starting off as a young journalist covering the Gilkar War, she had risked the life of many in the bargain, including the soldiers!

All was going well with her till the infamous Roidea tapes, that showed her in poor light — as a power hungry wheeler-dealer. Her shine had dimmed.

In the year 2014, the new regime that got elected actually worked to blunt the claws of her ilk. From the effortlessness of power, she had to now get accustomed to the mundaneness of being slotted amongst the ordinary. Life just wasn’t rosy anymore.

Then came a fabulous opportunity. A well-known politician, ace liar and an aspiring poet, started a TV channel. Mr. Sibka was desperate to influence the minds of the masses after the routing defeat his party had faced in the last elections.

Fake news was a good business in the current milieu. Big bucks were being spent on all media platforms and he felt that this could be his cosy corner and instant ticket to an influentially comfortable retired life. His sharp mind had realised that the tide had turned forever and opportunistic legal eagles like him would face troubled waters ahead. So, he started the Three Colour TV Channel.

And what a poignant name that was! Not only did it represent the colours of his brand of nationalism, the channel itself streamed news tinged by three prominent shades – burnt orange for the pseudo-spiritual urban naxals, murky white of the translucent dealings of the citizens of Lutyensland and the dirty green, that reflected appeasement politics and hypocrisy of pseudo liberals, who preferred to represent their vote bank – ‘Peacemuls’ – a group of citizens that were not peaceful at all!

The nattily drawn sphere at the centre of the muddy white represented the incestuous nature of his party eco-system. After all, they had all evolved together, ‘Grandii kutumbkum’ meaning those from the famous Grandii family were the only real family! Hail Grandii and Grandma!
Oh! The joys of familiarity.

Sibka needed someone who understood what was to be done, and Monsoon was the most obvious choice. She was perfect for his Channel. Popular and ‘con-troversial.’ Soon they were a team, and the channel had a happy start.

However, the reportage was mediocre, and the fake news factory was hardly able to make a dent.
A few months down the line, things just broke down and Sipka and wife decided to pull the plug on the Three Colour TV Channel.

Monsoon had no idea that a storm was brewing. People were fired and severance packages were curtailed to the bare minimum. She was jobless once again. To find support and solace, she took to social media.

The country watched in awe, the mud-slinging match between the two sides. A lot of beans were about to be spilled and bouncers were deployed to collect them. Outside the office of the Channel, monsoon showers displayed their fury, inside, Monsoon stood drenched in tears.

As she sat huddled in despair, a small voice spoke to her. It seemed to come from far away, yet it was familiarly close. Falling like soft drops of dew, it addressed her with love and concern — ‘’My child, this is Kaliyug. The age in which the war is not of the victory of good over evil like in Tretayug, or for that matter of dharma over adharma as in Dwaparyug. It is now a battle of truth over falsehood. And falsehood is sure to kill falsehood while those who strive to walk the path of truth will watch from the ring-side, mere witnesses and spectators.

The laws of Nature and karma are impartial. You have sided with those who have believed in lies and hypocrisy and somewhere you too got corrupted by the power vested in you. Today, you stand in solidarity 24×7, helpless and powerless to go against the clique’ you all so carefully built. Only truth can deliver you, and truth is simplest for the honest and most cumbersome for the dishonest. Take the leap of faith, become righteous, and the ‘right’ shall welcome you rightfully!”

Barkha bairan zara tham ke barso….’ Monsoon knew, her time was up. She had to get ‘modified’ or lose her self into oblivion.

She had to be ready for a quantum leap.

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