Nowhere in the press code does it specifically state that newspapers are obliged to run stories on or by Suhel Seth or news channels have to carry his soundbites on any and everything. But there he is, all over the media, a shining example of the modern-day celebrity: famous for being famous.
He is no authority on business or law but he was seen on television last week, sounding off on the Birla-Lodha controversy. He is no authority on politics but he was recently quoted as saying, “I would caution Anil [Ambani] not to be too closely associated with any one political party.” An amateur actor, a bit part in a Hindi film gave him an insight into Bollywood (“People are more real in Bollywood than they are in Delhi,” for example) that merited the cover of the Sunday magazine section of the Hindustan Times.
The author introduction at the end of that article last Sunday said, “Suhel Seth is a well known columnist in a media-related business.” The need to explain who someone “well known” is might appear self-defeating, but then Suhel Seth is not really famous for his writing, or any other concrete achievement for that matter. He is simply well known.
That’s the reassuring thing about today’s celebs. While talent, not to speak of greatness, is no bar to celebrity, it’s hardly a prerequisite. Many have no obvious talent — just like the rest of us. It raises hopes in all of us, and generations will soon grow up knowing that becoming famous can be an end in itself. You don’t have to do anything to achieve it.
Someone once said that Lord Byron, whose myth overshadows his work, is the world’s first modern celebrity. However, notwithstanding his gift for publicity, Byron was first of all an exceptional poet. His fame was still tied to his achievements. The aim of the truly modern celebrity is to break that bond and allow fame to float free from the limiting restraints of human ability. Enter the Suhel Seths of this world.
That is the media’s signal contribution to human civilization. In their eagerness to turn news into entertainment, they upped the demand for celebrities so much that soon there were not enough to go around. So they create celebrities. Who are those Shiladitya and Sreelekhas, Anant and Charus; you see everyday on page 3 of CalTimes? They are simply people who happen to be at the right place at the right time for the cameraman. Appear often enough on that page and you soon graduate into full-blown celebrity, whatever else you may or may not have done in the meantime.
Fatal flaws
The New Yorker is one of the greatest weekly magazines going. Its acquaintance with India, too, is not so passing. Many of Jhumpa Lahiri’s award-winning short stories have been published there first. Salman Rushdie, Amitav Ghosh have written essays there. So the “Letter from India” in its July 5 issue came as quite a shock. Charting the “Americanising of Chennai” thanks to outsourcing, the writer, Katherine Boo, says, “A foreign notion — that jobs should be distributed on the basis of merit — was amending the rules of a society where employment had for millennia been allotted by caste, and great possibilities abounded.” And that, “American uneasiness about outsourcing has turned Chennai into a secretive city.” What use New Yorker’s famous fact-checkers, who make sure there really was a potted plant in the room when the reporter went there, if there are such fatal flaws in understanding?
Tea with Rahul
Rahul Gandhi is a man of his word, somewhat. When he took oath as MP, the capital’s journalists badgered him for a tea party. He gave in. On Wednesday, a colleague in Delhi got a call from one of his aides. “Please come for tea,” he said. On hearing the prompt and enthusiastic acceptance, he gave the time and venue: “It’s at 5 pm tomorrow at the Munshiganj guest house in Amethi.” Apparently, Delhi is still not priority for Gandhi Jr. He has only kindly invited those journalists (quite a few) who covered his campaign. But if anyone thinks that would put Delhi’s celeb-cum-dynasty-loving media in place, think again. Amethi may see almost full house.
