Chasing Rainbows in Chennai
on Indian TV
The gap between the glossy world of adverts and reality may be big in
the West, but in India it's gargantuan.
had been watching satellite TV in my hotel room for far too long.
The more I watched, the wearier I became. The advertisements were
almost carbon copies of the ones in the West, in terms of the products
and the shiny coca-cola lifestyles promoted. MTV India was populated
with veejays (presenters) who talked like Americans, dressed like
Americans and probably wanted to be American.
The advertisements and the game-shows that interrupted the commercial
breaks were exponents of the kind of self-seeking materialism that now
all too often passes for entertainment. They even have Crorepatti!! -
India's equivalent of the British prime timer "Who Wants to be a
Millionaire", which in turn was no doubt copied from a similar programme
elsewhere. That type of thing is all the rage back home, but watching
it in India of all places was just too much. I switched off. I think that
the euphemism for all of this stuff is "globalisation" or indeed
It was almost too depressing to contemplate; but I did, and concluded
that we now live in a kind of box that when opened contains a model hand
which pulls the lid shut to prevent light from entering and scrutiny of
what goes on inside. My friend, Roman, was well used to my deliberations
and asked "What on earth are you talking about?". I went on
to explain that boxes normally contain something that can be looked at.
Not this one; it has steel fingers to close the cover. Why be aware of
the world's ills and challenge anything when you can live in the dark,
drink Pepsi, wear Reebok and shop 'til you drop? We live in a consumer
paradise where unfettered desire is a virtue and obsession is the faith.
Welcome to the nightmare - and we are all invited.
"There is much more to it than what we watch on TV - it's about the
type of world we want to live in", I told Roman, but he wasn't impressed.
I knew he wouldn't be. He likes the type of world we live in. He loves
"Crorepatti", "Who Wants to be a Millionaire" and
believes that the type of corporate sponsored globalisation now happening
is the best thing since sliced bread - even better in fact. Anyhow, he
left, looking a little downhearted - no doubt to rest his head in some
gas oven after listening to me.
I looked out of the window and wondered where on earth do advertising
agencies get their sanitised screen images of urban India from. Probably
Singapore, with its gleaming skyscrapers, sterile streets, and super deluxe
cars. It bore no resemblance to the scene that I was surveying. There
were a few dull, grey high rises in the distance; but the street was crammed
with disorder - mopeds and auto-rickshaws zig-zagging to avoid one another
while being pushed out of the way by big, ugly buses. Where were the super
deluxe vehicles? But then I realised that "deluxe" vehicles
are everywhere in India. In actual fact, the word "deluxe" is
thrown about with carefree exuberance to render its usage almost meaningless.
I have stayed in deluxe and non-deluxe hotels and have travelled in deluxe
and non-deluxe buses. In fact, at the lower end of the market deluxe hotels
with "homely comforts" are all the rage. Receptions sparkle
with cleanliness and cannot fail to impress with smooth marble floors
and shiny mirrors. Unfortunately, this facade tends to compensate for
rooms that are all too often in varying states of disrepair and decay.
Hotel receptions in India never fail to lull me into a false sense of
And deluxe vehicles? I have come to conclude that a "super"
deluxe bus will most probably get you from A to B with a modicum of comfort;
a deluxe vehicle might get you to where you want to be - at least it has
a hint of suspension, a semblance of a working engine, and some degree
of tread on the tyres; and a non-deluxe one has less tread, no suspension
and a spluttering engine which may or may not get you to your destination.
And deluxe and non-deluxe hotel rooms? - dusty floors and a dodgy water
supply - well the least said the better. Anyway its all a different world
from the one purveyed by the advertising industry. The gap between the
glossy world of adverts and reality may be big in the West, but in India
Designer labels, lifestyle products and luxury cars? I don't buy into
it. Why should I when I can see goldust sparkling on a floor of black
velvet; liquid gold dripping against ebony; and drift through a purple
haze at dusk? What am I talking about? No, I'm not spaced out on some
hallucinogen. Let me explain.
I always remember my first sight of Chennai (Madras). It was goldust sprinkled
on black velvet. The city lights were spread out on the ground beneath,
glowing in the dark as my plane flew over. I knew little about the place
but it intrigued and inspired. Years later the place still delights and
stirs. I walk along and see earrings dripping like liquid gold against
the ebony skin of South Indian women; I see a billion stars shimmering
over the Bay of Bengal; and down by the seaside I see neon lights and
the golden sands of Marina Beach blend into a purple haze as night closes
Reality bites, but advertisements suck. In fact, reality lacerates. The
sensation cuts deep. It's real, can be grasped and is free! Advertisements,
on the other hand, deal in fantasy and create a thirst that can never
be quenched. And for those who crave, it's an expensive endeavour. Billions
are spent on telling us that somewhere at the end of the rainbow there
is a pot of gold. But as day fades to night, the rainbow disappears, and
illusion gives way to reality - there is no gold.
There is nothing that can make teeth whiter than white, skin smoother
than smooth, and hair shinier than shiny. Wearing the appropriate designer
label product will not miraculously turn us into bright, young things.
And - believe it or not - drinking the right type of cola will not suddenly
make us God's gift to men or women - despite what the happy, smiling faces
say. But they want us all to keep on chasing rainbows wherever we live:
from Chennai to Chengdu, and from Mumbai to Milan.
I returned to the TV. The advertisements were again in full flow. I was
treated to the life-changing wonders of brand named alcohol, coloured
fizzy drinks and labelled clothes. Just luxuries that we could do without?
No! - they are the necessary, must have, must be seen to have lifestyle
products, all because they are endorsed by some beaming cricketer, game
show host or Bollywood star. If we do not possess them, then we are failures.
If we do possess them, we will feel even bigger failures because by that
stage we will have bought into the lie and will be wanting the newer,
brighter version of whiter than white toothpaste which we acquired when
it was newer and brighter than the previous bright, new version. There
is no pot of gold at the end of this particular rainbow, just a bag of
It's a precarious world we live in, based on hollow myths and promises.
But don't tell anyone; it may shatter if people look too hard. Its a fragile
invention and because of that, the label on the outside of the box probably
reads "Handle With Care". Maybe it also reads, "Do Not
Disturb", as people bask in their emptiness and watch global TV with
eyes wide shut.
Somewhere over Marina Beach in Chennai there is a rainbow, and somewhere
over the rainbow there is a new tomorrow. But it's just the old yesterday
recycled and sold back to us at a profit. If you chase it you will go
full circle and will eventually end up back where you started from - standing
on Kamarajar Salai (South Beach Road) at dusk wondering what was the point.
Then as a magenta mist descends, a black velvet sky closes in, and gold
glistens on ebony, all will be revealed. The best things in life are free.
© Colin Todhunter - The Madras Diaries - India August 2002
IN CHENNAI - The Madras Diaries
Traveller Tales on the Road in India
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