Drama on Two Fronts

When Parliament starts sounding like prime time, even the soap opera feels more sensible.

On July 29, India bore witness to two spectacles - one inside Parliament and the other on prime-time television.  One was a high-stakes debate on Operation Sindoor; the other, a reboot of the iconic ‘Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi.’ Though ostensibly worlds apart, they mirrored each other in ways that were both uncanny and unsettling.

Let’s start with the Parliament. What was meant to be a serious national security discussion quickly devolved into political karaoke with everyone singing their own tune, entirely out of sync. The opposition demanded the government label Donald Trump a ‘liar,’ which, last anyone checked, is not standard protocol in counter-terror strategy. It is unclear whether they believed this would rally global condemnation or just rack up retweets. Either way, it was a request so baffling that it made one long for the relative sanity of TV melodrama.

Then came the familiar grievance: “No country condemned Pakistan!” True. What they did condemn, with machine-like precision, was terrorism. The opposition seemed to take this as a slight - as if the global diplomatic community had sent India to sit in the naughty corner with Pakistan. It is a logic spiral that would make a daytime soap proud: “If you didn't say exactly what I wanted, you must be against me.”

The ruling party, refused to be outdone, fired back with its own greatest hits. Nehru and Indira Gandhi made surprise posthumous appearances, Sonia Gandhi’s personal anguish was paraded about, and the ghosts of Congress's past were summoned to settle present scores. The Prime Minister, always a compelling speaker, chose pathos and sarcasm over clarity, and we got yet another round of “Back then, we were weak; now, we’re winning.”

Meanwhile, on the other end of the spectrum, Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi made its grand return. Tulsi Virani, still emotionally resilient and inexplicably ageless, glided across screens, resurrecting the same family tensions that first aired in the early 2000s. Smriti Irani’s character might now be a national memory, but the show remains firmly rooted in its DNA.

At least the soap opera does not pretend to be a governing body.

Both events trafficked in nostalgia. Both clung to old storylines like a security blanket. And both featured people switching sides with astonishing speed, be it in political alliances or family feuds. There is a certain irony in watching leaders berate each other for things done decades ago while forgetting they have often sat on both sides of the aisle. It's like watching a TV family where every argument begins with “You always hated me since 1998,” and ends with a group hug no one believes.

What is truly galling is the performative nature of it all. The Parliament debate had the choreography of a prime-time serial: strategic pauses, impassioned monologues, dramatic interruptions and a final flourish that left viewers exhausted but unenlightened. There were no answers about the strategy behind Operation Sindoor, no clarity about long-term objectives, and indeed no cross-party unity - just rhetoric, recycled and reheated.

The rebooted Kyunki, for all its dramatic indulgences, at least knows what it is. It is not pretending to solve national issues. It is not trying to defend border policy with decade-old grudges. It does not expect the viewer to believe that emotional outbursts are evidence. And unlike Parliament, it stays on script.

Well, will it actually stay on script? After all, Tulsi is now played once again by Smriti Irani, who these days is better known for her role in national politics and unwavering support of the Prime Minister than her TV stardom. She does not just do monologues on screen anymore; she has delivered them in Parliament with just as much conviction. So, it is fair to wonder if Kyunki stick to family drama, or sneak in a little ideology along the way? If a few “Jai Shri Ram” moments start echoing between emotional confrontations and kitchen showdowns, do not be too surprised. This reboot could well be rehearsing a new kind of message.

Perhaps our lawmakers could take a cue from television after all: stick to the story, do not drag in unnecessary plotlines, and above all, remember your audience.  

July 29 gave us two shows, one on prime time and the other aired in Parliament. The former tried to repackage nostalgia for entertainment. The latter, quite alarmingly, tried to pass entertainment off as governance.

You be the judge of which one did it better.

(The author is a learning and development professional. Views personal.)