At the flick of your remote, there’s sharp-tongued Saroj Khan teaching a svelte beauty to swing her hips to ‘Chane ke khet mein’. There’s Nikhil Chinappa rudely telling a Roadie hopeful “Leave! You’re pathetic”. There’s Karan Johar cutting short a cute-looking Bollywood hopeful with “Dah-ling, I only make films with superstars.”
And, there’s Rakhi Sawant giving a tantalising glimpse of her botox-enhanced curves with the promise that if you’re good, she’s going to (alas, only) dance with you. Watch the reality shows if you’re looking for excitement, tears, tantrums and high-recall melodrama. For the voyeuristically-inclined couch potato, things couldn’t get better.
Reality shows are bringing to our bedrooms celebrities— both budding and faded, glamour, emotions, Bollywood-style naach-gaana, skin show (safe enough to watch with kids), the latest in fashion and the delightful opportunity to watch all this through the keyhole. What more do you want? Some class, did you say? For all you snooty types, there’s Anupam Kher, serious to the point of being drop-dead boring, hauling aspiring leaders of the country over the coals by making them settle water scarcity problems in Bangalore and sexual harassment cases in Gujarat. Watch it, if you can stay awake. Or, watch it if you want to fall asleep.
I am a self-confessed reality show buff. Blame it partly on the cheap thrills I get out of the realisation that they are the only ‘mai ka lals’ giving Ektaa Kapoor and her conniving daughters and mothers-in-law some sleepless nights. After all those nightmarish years of jingle-jangling their way into our lives in their sequinned chiffons, rebonded hair and rivers of sindoor flowing down hair partings, out go the ladies with one thumka from Khan.
Down go the TRPs. How I rub my hands in vile glee! What the tigers of Discovery, the sinister looking pony-tailed anchors of news-related crime shows, even the scantily clad lingerie models of FTV could not achieve, the reality shows have managed to do.
What do reality shows promise? Let’s get this straight, certainly no reality. Fake tears, fake tantrums, fake fights (alternately between participants and/or judges and/or one of each kind, sometimes even comperes joining in WWF style), full time pass drama with Mahesh Bhatt walking off a show, Shabana Azmi over-arching her over-plucked eyebrows in controlled anger, Abhijeet sprouting hair where none existed, Alka Yagnik doing the perfect behenji-turned-mod etc, etc. Add to this a glimpse into the personal life of celebrities (screaming spouses, smiling children, misty-eyed mothers) and a big dose of one-time stars/singers who are no longer as busy as they used to be.
And occasionally, special guests like Shah Rukh Khan dimpling their way into our dinner time by just being nice to the camera and all around to promote a new film. Add to this the fact that they have miraculously revived the dead. Reality shows have given a new lease on life to one-time celebs like Jeetendra, Alisha, Shiamak Dawar, Urmila Matondkar, even Shilpa Shetty much before Big Brother happened to her.
The essential ingredient of almost all reality shows seems to be the uncle of Urdu, the papa of poetry — Javed Akhtar sahab (with a tendency to sprout a couplet every two episodes). One bows to his superior grey cells when he miraculously remembers which reality show he is on (and which ‘Fab India’ kurta he has worn to which one) despite juggling almost half a dozen of them. A feat that would have left lesser mortals a bundle of quivering nerves. Jai Javed for that! And long live the reality shows that are reviving dinner party conversations, sagging careers and SMS tariffs for cell phone service providers.
