Yes, television along with cinema and the print media really is a chronicle of our times. It is the time-capsule that subsequent generations will unearth to understand what made us tick, laugh, angry, sad and excitable. They will wonder at the stupidity of a nation which continues to fracture itself over language, caste, regional and religious prejudices and a vigilante, short-sighted morality that overrides fundamental humanity.

A nation which is now busy plucking “outsiders” from its own blood-stream and bone marrow. Over the past few weeks, we watched in horror, the train exodus from Maharashtra replaying on a micro level the tragedy of the Indo-Pak Partition. Then came last week’s definitive image on TV. That of a mob in Bihar beating a murder accused almost to death.

But gobbling more footage on the news channels were film stars preening in glistening bubbles, laughing at insider jokes being played out on stage and collecting awards in assorted ceremonies, completely oblivious to everything but the illusion that they are in a alternate universe where nothing matters except the next Friday at the multiplex. Maybe they do exist in an alternate universe where there is no room for angst over anything more earth-shaking than the disloyalty of a favourite dress designer. Most of our film stars appear on television to either promote their films or themselves. Ask them one question about a really topical issue and they flip and flop like fish out of water.

Comparisons are always futile, but compared to our self-aggrandising celebrities, Hollywood has a Susan Sarandon who a few years ago, arrived in a petrol free car to walk the Oscar red carpet and  registered her protest against America’s war against Iraq. There was Michael Moore using the Oscar podium to fearlessly speak out against gun laws and an inept, ham-handed President. There is George Clooney who routinely speaks out against the atrocities in Darfur. Richard Gere who speaks out against the Chinese occupation of Tibet and is taken seriously, his overwhelming affection for a certain Ms Shetty notwithstanding. 

Sure, we had Aamir Khan addressing the TV cameras for a few minutes with the Narmada Bachao activists, but look what happened to his films in Gujarat. You can bet your remote that Shahrukh Khan will never grow past his King of a fictitious kingdom avatar to use a Tele byte for anything other than the promotion of his next game show on TV or his next block-buster. Yes, he may use a TV interview to bravely defend his right to smoke on screen and perhaps off it as well, but that’s about it.

So the award shows will go on uninterrupted by anything other than commercial breaks. Mr Bachchan will continue to sit, open-mouthed in the front row depending on how many Bachchans have been nominated for the awards. The cameras will unerringly pan on Rekhaji at the exact moment he appears on  stage to give or receive a trophy. All the award ceremonies will have atleast one close up of Saif Ali Khan’s badly-spelt tattoo, close up after close-up of Shahid Kapoor’s pain filled face as he watches his once beloved Bebo collect trophy after trophy commemorating Jab We Split. There will be air kisses, pats on the backs, feet touching, thank you speeches devoted to Mummy, Papa and Yash Uncle or the cut out of Aamir Khan, Caucasian women dancing in the background, the same nominations, the same winners, the same losers, the same unwillingness to crane the neck and look beyond a flattering TV camera.  Sure, film stars are not meant to be activists, but does it ever occur to them that their adulation can be used in more rewarding ways than to just collect trophies? That every time they open their mouths before a TV camera, they can emit something more than just hot air?