Barack Obama and John Mccain have just concluded round one of the US presidential debates. Sarah Palin is getting herself battle ready to face upto Democratic vice presidential candidate Joe Biden. The presidential debate is a unique American democratic institution, an opportunity for the candidates to confront and challenge each other on personality and policy-related issues. The debate is the big moment of an election campaign, a gladiatorial-like television arena allows a nation to compare and contrast candidates.

Debates don't always make presidents, but they have undone a few: history tells us that the "dark shadow" on Richard Nixon's face during the presidential debate of 1960 was enough to make the younger, charismatic John Kennedy appear even more appealing to the electorate. So, if America can do it, why cant the world's largest democracy experience a presidential-style debate, especially in this age of round the clock television which thrives on studio chat?

A few months before the 2004 general elections, I wrote to then prime minister Atal Behari Vajpayee and opposition leader Sonia Gandhi, inviting them on The Big Fight. This was meant to be the mother of all fights, the grand finale of our election programming. As it turned out, I was living in fantasy land. Both politicians sent gentle regret letters and we had to make do with English language television's favourite debating couple: the bright and articulate lawyer-politicians Kapil Sibal and Arun Jaitley. While Messrs Sibal and Jaitley were delightfully combative, they weren't quite the casting coup we had been hoping to pull off.

Perhaps, one was expecting too much. Vajpayee was a pre-television era politician: while his oratory may have drawn gasps of admiration in Parliament or at a Ram Lila maidan, his eternal pauses weren't quite suited for the cut and thrust of soundbite television. As for Mrs Gandhi, in over a decade in public life, she has barely given three and a half interviews, most of them carefully choreographed, the questioning in most instances confined to the gentle and routine.

Our other prime ministerial aspirants are no different. Mayawati, for example, prefers barking at journalists at press conferences rather than opening herself to serious interrogation. LK Advani, perhaps because of his journalistic background, has always been more willing to answer tough questions, but not quite in the debate format. The prime minister, Dr Manmohan Singh appears terrifyingly camera-shy: in almost five years in office, he hasn't really given a proper interview (even the annual "meet the press" appears to have been abandoned). The 'Crown Prince' Rahul Gandhi has been even more elusive: soundbites on his marital plans or the occasional statement on POTA might grab headlines, but are hardly a substitute for genuine political communication. Narendra Modi, like Advani, is a combative interviewee, but doesn't seem to appreciate discomfiting questions. Sharad Pawar on television is a cure for insomnia, while Mulayam Singh can be a monosyllabic disaster matched only by the mumbling HD Deve Gowda . Only Lalu Yadav of our politicians of substance can truly claim to be a natural, "made for tv" neta, and even he now seems to have lost some of the ready wit which once gave him 'star' quality.

Why are so many of our top politicians uncomfortable with the idea of being questioned on television? Partly it is a reflection of a feudal and non-transparent political system that doesn't feel the necessity to explain policy choices in an open forum. Unfortunately, unlike in the United States, television appearances have little connection with political winnability in the Indian context. With caste and family identities defining success in polls, communication skills seem to matter less and less. It is no coincidence that some of the finest public speakers in Indian politics are in the Rajya Sabha and not the Lok Sabha. Our political system doesn't demand the kind of communication skills that have made Obama a front-runner for the US presidency. Indeed, without his skilful television manner Obama would probably have lost to the more substantive, but less charming Hillary Clinton. Contrast that with a Mayawati who during last year's Uttar Pradesh election campaign was almost contemptuous of the media, especially television, and yet scored a stunning victory in the elections. Her captive vote bank didn't need to see their Behenji on television before deciding to vote for the blue elephant of the Bahujan Samaj.

In a way, Indian electoral politics has defined the limits of the power of television. While a spirited television debate can energise a section of the urban middle-class audience, it cannot reach the wider electorate, many of whom would rather be watching their favourite soap than listening to political arguments. Moreover, in a multi-lingual country, it is difficult to create a "national" constituency through a strong television presence. Would, for example, a Tamil-speaking viewer in Trichy really connect to even a Lalu Yadav? As television itself gets localized, the nature and character of its content is also getting more regional, thereby limiting the scope of "national" leaders emerging through television.

And yet, while television soundbites perhaps cant get you votes, they certainly can influence public opinion amongst the chattering classes. Much of the terror debate, for example, has played out in television studios, where the shrill "Bring Back POTA" campaign of the opposition has pushed the UPA government on the defensive. Television, in fact, tends to place a premium on strong, often extreme positions; moderate voices who try to hold onto a rapidly shrinking middle ground are quickly dismissed as wishy-washy and ineffectual. A soft-spoken home minister like Shivraj Patil for example, only finds his seeming indecisiveness magnified on television because he doesn't come across as a firm speaker. On the other hand, an Omar Abdullah was almost "rediscovered" as a politician because of his five minutes of fame during the trust vote debate.

Which is why politicians with an eye on the future would do well to hone their television skills. It may not make them mass leaders but it would certainly give them a cutting edge in becoming opinion leaders.

Post-script: I do hope to persist with my efforts to create a presidential-style debate on Indian television. I intend to write to Mrs Gandhi, Mr Advani and Ms Mayawati to appear together on a televised show ahead of the next general elections. It's unlikely to happen, but it may still be worth a shot. If they don't agree, there's always Messrs Sibal and Jaitley to turn to!!