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Released on Youtube as the latest addition to Culture Machine’s UnBlushed series, the rhythmic poem penned and performed by vocal actress Kalki Koechlin was itching to go viral even before it did.
Only for a change, this scathing satire on media sensationalism, with subtle nuance, contemporary references and powerful imagery interspersed with the compelling tapping of a keyboard at work, is entirely deserving of the digital disease.
In fact, it’s a milestone moment for both poetry (a very under explored medium of expression these days) artistry (the video is beautifully, rhythmically edited) and social messaging (it’s cleverly layered to be about more than one problem with our current society and rises above being ‘another feminist video’ even when most are rushing to label it just that).
“Till heads pile up in our hands, printed crisp and clean on our newspaper stands and blend smoothly into our morning routine.”
Titled ‘The Printing Machine,’ Koechlin’s narrative boldly shames the shamers, calling out media houses for the epidemic of desensitization doled out to readers with headline after headline of gasp-inducing reportage.
And even with her calling out the brutal sexual violence, flouting of women’s safety measures and horrific crimes being covered like entertainment or sports, ‘printed in black ink dipped in insensitivity,’ it’s important to point out that this is not the go-to feminist war-cry that most seem to think it is.
This is her calling out sensationalist, numbers-driven news and a morally bankrupt society who consumes it, as the main facilitators of this ‘patriarchy,’ we all claim to be fighting. It’s her saying when media sensationalism is put in the same pit as feminism, nobody wins.
“Chrring bloody scenes into bold, blank ink, chrring headlines that make you glug glug your drink.”
References to foreigners being raped, Irom Sharmila being force-fed, acid attacks, and gang rapes fly across the video to draw attention to specific incidents that the news coverage botched in the name of readership. As she puts it crudely and honestly,
“Child raped by politician? Ka-ching, ka-ching.”
“Beasts of poverty, beasts on a shopping spree.”
As she calls out the apathy with which catcallers and women’s safety issues are covered, drenched in a tone of voice that sounds routine, bored even, she accuses the media for shooting down heads when its convenient, and trampling figures like characters of stories being killed off as it appeals to the reader. “Heads for one side or another, like a black and white market place,” she adds, asking the pertinent question, “How many heads are we after?”
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