I do not say this lightly but this week has been a disaster.
I had imagined I would be writing this issue while sitting at a table near the window in a cosy, wood-panelled cafe in Mcleodganj, with a steaming mug of Ginger Lemon Honey Tea next to my laptop, a panoramic view of the snow-capped peaks of the Dhauladhar range in front of me, and the pleasant chirping of indigenous birds in my ears.
Instead, I am sitting at my work-desk at home, with an empty cup of coffee next to my laptop, an unhindered view of a garbage truck in front of me (well, slightly below me, to be precise), and the infuriated honking of a vehicle which has had just about enough of the garbage truck’s ponderous movements, filling my ears.
I had thought I would be writing about travelling to Amritsar and visiting the Golden Temple; about the road trip from Amritsar to Mcleodganj and visiting monasteries along the way; about eating chole bhature and ‘pahadon-waali-Maggi’; about returning to the mountains, and perhaps even about spiritual awakening1.
Instead, all the travelling I have done this week has been from the bedroom to the kitchen, primarily to visit unwashed dishes and check if any food had magically appeared on the gas stove (I can confirm after numerous checks that it had not).
If you haven’t guessed it already, we are a covid-inflicted and quarantined household.
Covid symptoms made their appearance just a couple of days before we were scheduled to travel and so, as responsible citizens who prioritise public health, we immediately cancelled our tickets without wasting any time mulling over questions like, “If we are asymptomatic or mildly symptomatic, do we really pose any threat as carriers?” and “Even if we were to infect others, wouldn’t that, in fact, help them generate antibodies and make us human vaccines who have a duty to travel?”
And, notwithstanding the cancelled trip, we were coping reasonably well with the situation (I have fortuitously been asymptomatic and my wife’s symptoms have been manageable) until Grey’s Anatomy took over our television.
I am not a religious person but if there is a Hell, I believe it is a place where you are compelled to watch every episode of every season of Grey’s Anatomy, over and over again until the end of time; which, coincidentally, is exactly how watching five minutes of that mind-numbing, brain-curdling abomination, is likely to make you feel.
I like to think of myself as a thoughtful and caring person; and so, when my coronavirus-ed wife commenced her Grey’s Anatomy marathon, I thought it could help with her convalescence and chose to be supportive.
Oh, the naivety.
You see, shows like Grey’s Anatomy are conniving and deceptively evil.
They lure you in by letting you feel as if you are in control, as if you can choose to stop watching the show at any time; they let you believe that you’re simply indulging a harmless, guilty pleasure, that they’re nothing more than an innocuous distraction to while away the hours.
And slowly, ever so slowly, they wrap their coils around you and suddenly you realise you’re trapped; unable to look away from the screen and yet, hating what you’ve become.
Three days into our quarantine, I found my wife on the couch staring blankly at the television screen, her face gaunt.
Alarmed, I asked her if she was feeling unwell.
“I cannot watch this, it is horrible and mindless”, she whispered.
So, switch it off, I said gently, trying to take the remote from her hand.
“No!”, she hissed, her head snapping towards me, “I…. I cannot stop”.
My wife is an exceptionally smart and intelligent woman2, so if a TV show could have this effect on her, I realised it warranted further study.
Let me clarify that I have chosen not to comment on the scientific and/or medical aspects of the show because I am not a doctor and also because it is hard to come up with any kind of sensible reaction to a medical intern drilling a hole in a man’s skull with a power-tool while the said man is trapped in a multi-car pile-up.
So, my observations are limited to the characters alone.
I have never worked in a hospital but I can say with some degree of confidence that it is a statistical impossibility for any hospital to contain that many immature, whinging, whiny, annoying, juvenile, sub-intelligent, vapid, hormonal, unprofessional slackers and not be shut down within a week.
If the characters of the show were placed in a high school setting instead of a hospital then: (a) it would make little difference to their storylines, and (b) they would out-shine the high-school teenagers in being insecure brats.
And don’t get me started on Meredith Grey, who has to be the most exasperating lead character in television history, beating Tarak Mehta by miles.
Is there any good reason why nobody has stabbed Meredith and ended the damn thing yet3?
How can any show that is so atrocious, find viewership to last eighteen seasons?!
Is it some sort of elaborate prank where everyone involved, the show-runners, the writers and the viewers, all know it is terrible but continue patronising it as a form of social commentary, as a critique on the nature and purpose of art?
Will we ever know the answers to these questions?
Wait, my wife is calling me.
Looks like Seattle Grace Hospital has a new patient who has somehow contrived to have a fish swim up his penis into his urethra.
Got to go. Bye.
Okay yes, I can see you rolling your eyes. I got a little carried away.
I have been asked to clarify that I say this of my own free volition and not at the prompting of any third party, such as, my wife.
We have only reached Seasons 3 and I’ve been told that a large number of characters are killed off in the subsequent seasons. I understand and wholeheartedly approve.
I can understand the pain (from one Covid infected household to the other), but nothing allows either of us to bring bad name to Tarak Mehta. I will let it go this time, but please.
Loved this post and could I suggest something? No? Still - Watch Julia (HBO Max). It was a relief to us when we both were deep in Covid 2.0.
Thank you for sharing this with us Rohan. Loved it!