Rocky is a little kid. He’s a star. He sings. Anything. Everything. Just ask him to dish out a track and he will. He can even dance to his own songs while he is singing. He knows how to hold a mike - not vertically, but almost horizontally with the bulbous head of the object right in front of your mouth. WOW. He danced so well, that he even decided to be tested on dancing. So he danced to peppy numbers they played. He did the perfect moves. WOW. Then he decided to anchor a show. Some producers approached him that is, and he pounced at the offer. He is a wonder child! All I can say is WOW. So I say WOW.
Have you seen the league of 10 year olds herding up in front of the camera? Hosting shows, taking part in competitions, and dishing out their talents. Child labour at large, with the TRP monster and viewers and SMS s doing the trick. The parents employ the kids to steal our hearts (wow she sings so well...look at the little guy dance !!). And if they are spotted by some firm for further display of talent, nothing like it. Grand opportunities. But then, you cannot go onstage without proper grooming. Hence the lipstick, the foundation, the make up, the colours painting over the natural colours of childhood, take their respective places. Grand again! And then the kid is taught to give the proper expressions. The nine year old sings a seductive love song rolling her eyes and oscillating his butt and what not, and whoa, we have got the perfect expression from them and loud cheers follow the performance. Dear child, do you even know what you are singing about? Where are the rhymes gone? I still remember them, alas! I am so outdated. Then the kids go to school, do their homework, or get their friends to do it. Come on man, who wouldn’t help a star pal? A star baby. Or let’s say a galaxy of star babies waiting in queue to display their budding talents that have been forced to flower before time. Sometimes the flowers are turning into ridiculously ripe fruits too. Mad trends, and scary as well.
I have quit watching all such shows. They go beyond my scope of imagination or idea of childlike demeanor. Long live the workhouses of talent, if they produce good humans later.