Can I have a katha or kahani, please, says Poonam Saxena

I recently watched a TV series that warmed my heart: the Malayalam show Manorathangal (Mindscapes) on Zee 5.

The nine-episode anthology is based on the writings of Kerala’s MT Vasudevan Nair, a living legend who is now 91. Some of the biggest stars of Malayalam cinema have thrown their weight behind it: Mammootty, Fahadh Faasil, Mohanlal and others. To add even more heft to the series, each episode is introduced by Kamal Haasan.

As with most anthologies, some episodes are better than others, but on the whole, Manorathangal is a delight. Some tales are set in the past, and recreate the Malabar countryside of the 1950s. Some are contemporary, set in snowbound small-town America. The themes range from doomed love and childhood memories to social hypocrisy and loneliness. Each episode is beautifully mounted and shot, some with an almost achingly elegiac quality.
What I really enjoyed was how the show brought to life the stories of a giant of the Malayalam literary world. When was the last time we saw that in a Hindi series?
I’m not talking about shows based on contemporary English-language books; we have dozens of those (the most recent being IC 814: The Kandahar Hijack, based on Flight into Fear: The Captain’s Story by Devi Sharan and Srinjoy Chowdhury). Where are the retold short stories and novels by Hindi literary greats?
There were many in the glory days of Doordarshan, the ’80s and ’90s.
There was the telefilm Sadgati (Salvation; 1981), based on a story by Premchand and directed by Satyajit Ray. Ek Kahani (1986) retold short stories from across the country, starting with Amrita Pritam’s Junglee Booti or Wild Flower (a village girl’s feelings about education and love, both forbidden to her). Mitti Ke Rang (1999; Colours of the Earth) was based on Mohan Rakesh’s brilliant short stories.
Novels adapted for the small screen included the Partition-themed Tamas by Bhisham Sahni, Neem ka Ped by Rahi Masoom Raza, Maila Aanchal by Phanishwar Nath Renu, Raag Darbari by Shrilal Shukla. These films usually featured India’s finest actors, such as Om Puri, Pankaj Kapur, Manohar Singh and Smita Patil.
When did this change? Actor-director Ananth Mahadevan, who was closely associated with TV programming in those days, writes of how the “short story” faded from screens in the early 2000s. In his book, Once Upon A Prime Time (2020), he says: “The genre… appeared to have lost its advocates. Any proposal to revive it was met with a cold stare from channel executives as though I was propagating a social taboo. Like programmed robots, they utter “sorry, we do not have a slot for it,” depriving the best works of literature a television exposure.”
Why is this still the case today? If I had to hazard a guess, I would say that, unpalatable as it may sound, most mainstream producers, directors and actors in Mumbai are not even remotely familiar with Hindi literature (most; I’m sure there are some honourable exceptions). Nor do I think they are interested in changing that. It doesn’t seem as if streaming platforms are knowledgeable or interested either.
This is so sad and misguided. I don’t even know where to begin, when it comes to listing short stories and novels that would make for compelling films or series.
Sadly, the myth of “what will sell” has everyone in its thrall. The result is the kind of Mid TV that was covered in the Wknd section last week: reams of same-sounding crime shows, gangster series, tales of cops and terrorists, soldiers and terrorists, covert operations, and plenty of empty, “trendy” urban Gen Z stories.
Is change possible? Producers would do well to remember the Hollywood screenwriter William Goldman’s famous words. “Nobody knows anything. Not one person in the entire motion picture field knows for a certainty what’s going to work,” he said. So be bold, Bollywood. Look to Hindi literature. You’ll be surprised at the treasures waiting there.
(To reach Poonam Saxena with feedback, email [email protected])