A BAD SATIRE (excavated from archives)

How old would he be? Don’t know. Doesn’t matter. Could be 45, 48, 51…forget it. Since he is a journo who will make his debut behind the camera soon, how does his age matter? He doesn’t need to look glamorous.

And, what about the girl in front of him? Eighteen, 19,20…she, a lass with a pretty face and a fine figure, should figure somewhere in that bracket I suppose. The girl is a wannabe starlet, a modern-day Miss Quested from Jhumritilaiya lusting after five seconds of fame in Bollywood.

When she walks into the cabin of this man, his neck is buried in a huge file of what seems like newspaper clippings. “Yes, sit,” he looks at her through his rimless spectacles for less than a quarter of a second and goes back to reading his clippings again. Doesn’t seem to be interested in the female presence it seems. Correction. If at all he is interested, it doesn’t show.

“Sir,” the girl mumbles after a patient ten-minute pause, “I had called you up last week. I need a break, of any kind, in the Hindi film industry but I don’t have contacts. No godfather, you see. So I thought that perhaps you could help me…”

“Hmm, I couldn’t have met you last week because I was travelling abroad on a junket funded by Josh Distilleries, the makers of Beer Zara," the scribe looks at the girl and continues, “See, we need to go out with film units when the movies are being made so that we can file special reports. Besides, the filmmakers also need to keep the journalists happy so that the media does not trash their movies.”

“But Sir, what is it that you mean by junk it?” the girl asks, her Tilaiyaisms clearly audible for once.

“Oh, not junk it but junket lady,” the man sets forth a smile demonstrating his nicotine-tinged teeth, “Junket means a trip that costs nothing to us, and helps media-savvy producers get kind reviews for the rubbish they make. Some of us, the senior scribes, constitute an important power centre you know.”

“So you mean Beer…is really bad? But it has got Big S, Big R, Big P and even Big B in a small role, so many big stars,” the girl stammers at the very thought that a bad film with so many huge actors is actually possible.

“The film is unadulterated gibberish if that is what you want to hear,” the journo neighs emphatically, “But we will ensure that it becomes a huge hit.” Then, the guy stops for a while and adds, "Journalism is all about ethics you know. So, if someone has spent lakhs on a junket, we need to make some sort of a contribution to make his film a success.”

“But Sir, you blasted Shudder and it became a huge hit,” the wannabe starlet’s eyes light up because she has a point.

“Shu...Shudder? True, we had murdered Shudder because not only was it a bad film but it was made on such a small budget that the producer could not organise a junket to Pondicherry of all places,” the journo nods his head in mock-disbelief, “But I guess Girlika’s fans don’t care for criticism just as she doesn’t care for clothes.”

“Sir, a question. A small question,” Miss Wannabe leaves her seat, saunters lazily, and sits on the table right next to the newspaper clippings the man had been reading. Then, she whispers into his ears, “Sir, you are going to make a film. You are going to be yet another journo who will make a film. Can I have a small role in your film? A leeteel role Sir?”

“You will have to, you will…”now, the journo-man is stammering, “you will have to give a screen test.”

“Here Sir?” The girl seems keen to turn into a Buffalo girl and do an item number then and there.

“No, no, not here. This is office, not office, this is office,” the journo has lost it, completely.

“Cut.” In walks Virus Locha, the VJ-turned-compere who has now done his first episode of investigative journalism. The journo’s face turns white as he sees the deadly Virus with the camera crew, while the girl gets up from the table to shake his limp hand, “Sir, this is a sting operation. You have been caught on camera in a confessional mode for which we must thank you.”

The short and plump scribe is trying to dodge the camera most desperately. He actually looks like a cookie that has crumbled on an office sofa. Now, the garrulous Virus takes over. “Journalism, we all know, is about ethics as our esteemed catch for tonight said a little while ago. Just in case you are wondering why we did a sting operation on Song TV, well, that is because we wanted to give a special twist to an episode on our month’s special guest, the rock star Sting.”