Indian TV was better in the 90s - and it's not just nostalgia

India Today

3 days ago

There was a time when Indian television felt like an evening ritual, not just background noise. A time when stories unfolded gently, characters felt like neighbours, and the screen reflected who we truly were, not who algorithms thought we should be. The 90s were that rare era when TV didn't chase shock value or drama for drama's sake. It paused, breathed, and let real emotions take centre stage.Families gathered under whirring ceiling fans, watching women like Shanti, Priya, and Simran navigate life with dignity, doubt, and strength. These weren't just serials, they were mirrors. And for many of us, especially women, they offered something today's TV rarely dares to: a chance to feel seen.advertisementWOMEN WHO WEREN'T JUST CHARACTERS - THEY WERE US
Mandira Bedi in Shanti (UTV Software Communications)
There was 'Shanti', played powerfully by Mandira Bedi, a journalist uncovering dark secrets while carrying her pain with dignity. She wasn't waiting to be saved; she was writing her own story, and thousands of women saw their silent strength in her."I still remember waiting for Shanti every afternoon. It wasn't just a show — it felt like watching a woman find her voice when we were still learning to find ours. My mother and I never missed an episode, and we'd talk about it like those characters were people from our own mohalla (neighborhood)," recounted Rekha Sharma, 47, a homemaker.
There was Priya in 'Swabhimaan', elegant, intelligent, unapologetically flawed. Kitu Gidwani's portrayal of a mistress-turned-socialite was groundbreaking. She wasn't a villain. She was human, and that alone made her revolutionary for her time. "Shows like 'Swabhimaan' and 'Hasratein' were bold for their time, but they never felt vulgar. They showed real problems, real choices — not the over-the-top stuff we see today. It was like watching a mirror of society, not a circus," commented Anil Mehta, 52, a government employee.
Neena Gupta in Saans
advertisementIn 'Saans', Neena Gupta as Priya Kapoor, gave us the quiet devastation of a woman dealing with infidelity and finding her way back to herself. Her breakdowns weren't theatrical, they were hauntingly real. Many women didn't just relate to her, they were her.
Nikki Aneja and Varun Badola in Astitva (Ananda Telefilms)
Then came Dr Simran in 'Astitva' played by Niki Aneja Walia, a successful doctor navigating a relationship with a younger man, societal judgment, and her own evolving identity. Her character made space for conversations around self-worth and ageism, topics barely whispered on screen back then.Sunita Dey, 44, a schoolteacher, recalled watching the show and aspiring to be like Dr Simran. "I was in college when Astitva aired. Dr. Simran wasn't just a character — she was an aspiration. A strong, independent woman who made choices on her own terms. For many of us, it was the first time we saw someone like that on Indian TV and thought — maybe we can be like her too," she said.
Seema Kapoor in Hasratein
'Hasratein' - led by Seema Kapoor as Savi, a woman in an extramarital relationship - didn't paint women's desire as shameful. It treated it as something honest, complex, and deeply human. These stories didn't offer fantasy. They offered a mirror. Women across India looked into it and whispered, 'That's me."COMEDY THAT LEFT YOU SMILING, NOT SQUIRMING
Dekh bhai Dekh
advertisementDekh Bhai Dekh gave us Sameer Diwan (Shekhar Sumar), Sunita (Bhavna Balsavar), Sanju (Vishal Singh), and the lovable chaos of a joint family we all secretly wished we had. It was warm, relatable, and full of quirks not noise.
Zabaan Sambhal ke
Zaban Sambhal Ke made us laugh at our cultural confusions through Mohan Bharti, the bumbling Hindi teacher played brilliantly by Pankaj Kapur, surrounded by a hilarious mix of immigrant students. It was witty without being mean, silly without being cheap.You could laugh with your parents. You could watch with your kids. That kind of comedy didn't need disclaimers.WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT TV?Today's television often feels disconnected from reality. Women are either deified or demonised; plots stretch and exaggerate, driven more by TRPs than by truth. The rich storytelling and subtlety of the '90s have been replaced by spectacle and noise. Despite more money, more technology, and more channels - somehow, we've lost the soul.BACK WHEN TV SAT WITH YOU LIKE A FRIENDThose 90s shows weren't just stories. They were companions. They stayed with you long after the episode ended. They made you think, feel, and sometimes, heal. We didn't binge-watch them. We waited for them. One episode a day. And in that wait, we connected with the show, with each other.The 90s didn't rely on flashy graphics or gimmicks. They relied on truth. Maybe it's time we stopped chasing trends and remembered how it felt when TV saw us in all our strength, flaws, and humanity. Because sometimes, the future of storytelling lies in remembering where we came from.