I am addicted to news. To me, television means mainly Star News, Sun News and Doordarshan; Jain TV, Raj TV and the like are switched to only for the span of their current affairs programmes. I read all dailies I can get my hands on. And when I can't get my hands on any, I peek over the shoulder of some lady in the second class compartment to satisfy my thirst. In office, I am usually among the first to know what's up in the world. It's one of the advantages of working in a news organisation. There is the thrill of seeing news unfold, to hear of it as it happens. But this time, I missed all the action. I took my first vacation in three years early this month. I travelled to Coorg, the land of coffee estates and beautiful houses perched precariously on mountaintops. The resort where I stayed was a wonderful structure in the middle of an estate. It was nearly seven miles from the nearest town. Built in typical Coorgi style with a red-tiled roof and a porch that overlooked a thickly forested valley, it was just perfect. Except for one small detail: there was no TV or newspaper. No, that is not quite correct. There was a television set, a pathetic black-and-white affair. It was switched on only during dinner. And it played only Doordarshan. As for dailies, they never made it to our resort. After a few failed attempts at conversation, I realised that Coorgis were either blissfully unaware or completely uninterested in what goes on outside Madikeri, their district headquarters. The first day I missed the hourly news bulletins on TV. I missed logging on to the Net. I missed reading newspapers to know the fate of George Speight in Fiji and whether the junta in Myanmar is being any kinder to Aung San Suu Kyi. But soon I learnt to tune myself out from it all. My withdrawal symptoms disappeared after a few long walks. I learnt to stop worrying about what the rest of the world was up to. On June 2, my first night in Coorg, I peered at the TV as I ate dinner. Its sound had been muted out. Except for hazy black-and-white images that showed as a composite of a million tiny dots, I could make out little else. Even then, I couldn't resist looking at the screen. That night the broadcast didn't make any sense to me, as there was no sound to go with it. Among the rapidly changing frames I caught sight of King Birendra and Queen Aishwarya of Nepal. I peered harder. But all I could see were photographs of the king and the queen, waving to the masses or standing stiffly in a royal family portrait. And flashed intermittently was a picture of an important looking young man. King Birendra stood near him, reading out something from a scroll. I assumed the young man to be the crown prince. Must be a coronation, I thought. The portrait of the royal family haughtily looking at the camera, which was flashed at regular intervals, strengthened my assumption. I am not sure whether the TV set was to blame or the quality of Doordarshan's reportage. But in the 20 minutes I stayed glued to the television set, it definitely did not cross my mind that a bizarre tragedy had occurred in Nepal. The next day passed by merrily. I shopped for coffee, honey and spices. Despite travelling all over the little district, I did not learn about the tragedy that had thrown a country into turmoil and kept reporters awake across the world. Three days later, I returned to Bangalore. When I finally opened a newspaper, the headline screamed at me: 'Dipendra Alleged Killer in Royal Family Massacre.' Stunned, I read about the incident. After the initial shock, I realised that not knowing about one of the greatest tragedies in the world hadn't hurt me at all. For three days, I had lived blissfully, not pondering over questions like what could have possibly driven a man to murder his family and kill himself, and was the Nepal tragedy the result of palace intrigues or an old fashioned crime of passion. I now let my dad switch on HBO, even if it means that I miss the nine o' clock news bulletin. Movies too fade in and out a little these days. And I have discovered that there are nearly 50 channels on my TV apart from Star News and CNBC. But I have not totally given up on news and current affairs. I ensure I catch the late night news programme and log on everyday to nepalnews.com. And I am still the first to grab the papers every morning at home. News and the Net consume the whole of Priya Ganapati's existence. Illustration: Uttam Ghosh Tell us what you think of this diary Be part of an exciting venture! Write a Diary!
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