Brutal Reality

Picture this. A small girl, of nine-ish something, pouts her lips like Urmila Mataondkar and thrusts like an item girl even as the judges and spectators chuckle generously and clap in awe. Her moves, garish make-up and costumes are far beyond her age but apparently no one finds this strange? Well, reality shows ka zamana hai baba, yehi ‘in’ hai!

There's an overabundance of these kinds of reality shows being broadcast currently, with children singing, dancing, acting and doing every possible thing that an adult would do, on all possible channels. Mostly pressed by pushy parents and family members, toiled to the bone by show producers and at times subjected to hurtful comments by judges, it's not a perfect life out there; neither is the overindulgence of glitz and glamor besides public spotlight healthy for such little minds.

Before go further, let me say one thing: I feel young kids have no place on reality shows. (And that goes for charity programs as well, where minor celebrity mommies swagger about with aspirant celebrity kids) Period. I’m just as clear about purported talent shows for kids where a detrimental competitiveness exists and pushy parents/trainers/teachers shove child “genius” to impractical altitudes. And there’s something more than placidly pornographic about young girls in glittery (not to forget revealing) clothes and complete make-up quaking their non-existing butts for TV audiences. Vulgar to the core.

I’m not debating the fact that most of these young children are truly endowed. But there are others who are compelled to ruthless limits, made to undergo hours of practice, forfeit valuable play time of their childhood with the intention of ‘accomplishing’ what to me appears like their parents’ frustrated aspirations.

We’ve become so fanatical with seeing our children excel, that we’re at risk of transforming them into performance monkeys. We crave, require and look forward to extraordinary kids. Yet, paradoxically, we exist in a time of great triteness. We are prepared to accept jaded leadership, average government services, inferior products (though our endurance is running thin), but where our kids come into picture, we look forward and expect nothing but brilliancy or perfection in plain words.

I’m certain there are a range of rationales for this. We wish to reimburse for our own ordinary lives. We desire our kids to be the kind of people we could never become- rich, famous and a face to shine amongst the crowd. We see their recognition as our fame. But beneath all of this is the truth that we now adore the sect of ‘celebrity ship. In cities, big and small, all over India, parents of kids as small as 4-5 years aspire to transform them into little stars; they wish to see their names right up there on huge city hoardings, seizing their 15 minutes of recognition and fame.

To parents I just wish to say one thing: Young child artists rarely seem to have contented reminiscences of their frazzled early days. The actress/director Sarika has mentioned about her lost childhood, thanks to an abusive (and now separated) mother. Recently I also came across an article which mentioned about a 20 something Russian model, who had been working since she was 15 years of age. She jumped to bring an end to her agonies in, New York City. I am sure there would be multiple such tales which begin at a rather beautiful stage, but usually have very sad endings.

Childhood should be a time for children to run wild and carefree, play, days to dream, a time to be innocent, a time for new discoveries, a time to just mess up and learn. It’s concise enough as it is. Reality — with its rough, tough edge — will take over in due course, anyhow.

So, how about just skipping these reality shows, glitz and glamor with cutthroat record-making for the kids and just leave them for adults?

Time to think.

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