The Calm We Lost: Remembering the vision of Dignity

 I grew up glued to the TV news in the 1980s and 1990s. Back then television in India meant one thing ie Doordarshan. For many of us, it wasn’t just entertainment; it was an education, a window to the wider world, and a steadying influence in our homes . The news readers were not just presenters, they were trusted voices in our homes. Names like Salma Sultan, with her trademark rose tucked neatly in her hair, or Neethi Ravindran, with her calm authority, immediately come to mind. Gitanjali Aiyar, elegant yet precise, and Rini Simon Khanna, with her measured tone, defined what it meant to be a newsreader. Even Usha Albuquerque and others brought the same composure. Tejeshwar Singh, with his deep, baritone voice, brought a gravitas that could make even the dullest parliamentary bulletin sound weighty.

What united them all was their demeanour. They did not dramatize, they did not impose their opinions, and they never raised their voices. News was read, not screamed. Even when they announced breaking stories, it was done with composure “We have just received a report…”and that single line was enough to grab our attention without fanfare or cacophony. Election nights were filled with professors, senior journalists, and psephologists who sat with charts, blackboards, and hand-drawn maps. Faces like Prannoy Roy became synonymous with serious and data-driven analysis. The  language of analysis itself reflected the times: terms like “vote swing,” “coalition arithmetic,” and “anti-incumbency” entered my  vocabulary through these telecasts.  On the flip side Doordarshan as  a state-owned broadcaster, and its news bulletins often reflected the government’s priorities then and now .

TV of those times was not just about news, it was about nurturing curiosity and intellect. The programmes of that time were thoughtfully designed to inform, educate, and inspire. Quiz Time, hosted by Siddhartha Basu, was the gold standard for television quizzing. For many young minds, it became the spark that ignited a lifelong love for learning. Bharat Ek Khoj, directed by Shyam Benegal and based on Jawaharlal Nehru’s Discovery of India, was a sweeping visual narrative of India’s history and culture. Each episode transported viewers across centuries, blending storytelling with historical accuracy. It was history told with dignity, not sensationalism. The World This Week gave us a window into international affairs at a time when global exposure was limited. For many households, it was the first real connection to the outside world. Educational and cultural programmes like Turning Point (science show), Surabhi with Renuka Shahane and Siddharth Kak , and even the Sunday feature films, taught us to appreciate depth, diversity, and heritage.

Fast forward to today, and television news has descended into cacophony. With the advent of private broadcasters, competition is no longer about credibility or content, it is often about amplifying ideology. Each channel seems to outshout the other, not in pursuit of truth, but in pursuit of allegiance . A news panel today is less about analysis and more about verbal warfare. The anchor often leads the charge, barking at panelists, drowning out dissenting voices, and injecting a tone of hostility that seeps into our living rooms. The calm pause that once gave weight to breaking developments has been replaced by ‘breathless hysteria’ designed only to hold our attention.

Last  year, I finally cut the cord. I ended my TV subscription not because I lost interest in the news, but because the medium itself had lost its soul. I did not want to be shouted at every evening. I did not want to carry someone else’s anger into my mind. I find myself longing for that rare gift Doordarshan gave me  ie a space to listen, to think, and to grow.