Amid streaming jargon, handheld devices and AI-driven recommendations, Sanjay Raina makes a plea to preserve the simple, immersive joy of watching TV as it was meant to be – shared, linear and unhurried.
Although we had been in love with our small black-and-white TV sets since childhood, it was in the memorable year of 1982 that colour came to our lives. I mean the advent of colour TV broadcasting in India. Before that, people, simple as they were, even placed plastic screens in front of their black-and-white TVs just to enjoy a touch of colour.
And then everything changed. Over the years, a core, centrally managed terrestrial channel offered some remarkable programming, and even today we regret the loss of some of its content. Its credo was simple: 70% of viewers lived on rural land and programming reflected that. One channel led to many others. The first channel is hardly watched now, while countless others have emerged. The TV programmes we once called by many names are now simply content, and how they reach us is called distribution, or more recently platforms or affiliates. Both these terms were unknown in 1982, the year of colour.
Why write this piece? Because core TV watchers like us are under threat today, not because of what is offered on the screen that I still refuse to call the idiot box, but because technology is reshaping the landscape. We are being forced to keep pace, running our lives on a treadmill at impossible speed. We are learning terms like ‘devices’, ‘TV on the go’, ‘OTT’, ‘small screens’ and ‘tablets’, and being told that all programming – no, content – will soon be available on these machines. And now AI, this ever-watchful force, seems intent on knowing everything about us.
Let me tell you why many of us remain TV purists.
The screen addiction
The screen is addictive. Its size, its presence, its very being draws you in. Coming home and gazing at it can feel as comforting as spending time with a beloved pet after a long day. The screen is also baffling; you never know what will appear when you switch it on. Today, massive screens of up to 100 inches are common. Back then, it was either small or big. Still, the addiction remains.
We smile alone, shed tears alone, celebrate a hero’s victory alone. For purists, the screen is a companion. We can spend hours transfixed, meals forgotten, completely absorbed. A child or spouse walking past? A simple wave keeps them away. And when food is placed in front of us, it is consumed almost unconsciously. An hour later we may ask, “What did you cook for dinner?”
Something called a remote
The remote control arrived late, long after colour TVs had become common. It was treated with reverence, protected as if it were a household treasure. Some kept it in leather covers, others in thick protective sleeves with only a tiny opening for the signal. When batteries died, the cover was discarded and the remote returned to bare hands. Yet there was bliss in pressing the buttons at the perfect moment, gliding through channels, asserting authority over the household noise.
I have seen remotes flying during domestic disputes, and manufacturers certainly profit from replacements. Try living without one for a day, and life would be chaos. The remote is precariously balanced on bellies and shoulders, sometimes in back pockets. Rumours of a combined phone-and-remote device? Please, spare us the trouble.
The family dynamic
There is joy in collective viewing. Conflicting tastes, the news for one, reality shows for another, cartoons for the young – these create tension, but it is a tension that unites. The smallest household member often bears the brunt of compromise. Doorbells may ring, dinner may be ready, but all pause to respect the sacred screen. It is a subtle assertion of authority, a ritual of one-upmanship bestowed by the TV itself.
A plea for preservation
I have nothing against technology’s march, but please leave some areas untouched. The jargon of streaming, VOD, SVOD, FAST and recommendation engines complicates a delight that once was simple. Why surrender choice to an algorithm?
Watching a blockbuster on a tiny handheld device is no substitute for a proper screen. Let me enjoy my favourite programmes in linear mode, deciding for myself what to watch and when.
For the B2B audience, it is worth remembering that these preferences and viewing habits still drive advertising, content strategy and distribution decisions. Linear TV remains a core medium, and understanding the attachment of audiences to traditional viewing can help shape better engagement strategies and platform development.
I am a TV purist who believes television should be watched the way it always has been, and I will resist any migration to smaller devices. I invite readers to share their own experiences in this appreciation of the medium.
Sanjay Raina is Senior VP, Times Television Network
