Bigger, Meaner, Bossier

After spending 24 hours in the Bigg Boss house for a second time, Tasneem Nashrulla finds the décor has changed, but the mind games haven’t.

It was some time in the early hours of Thursday morning. I was grooving to Desi Girl in my pajamas while cradling a pink-lipped baby doll. Cheering me on were 13 others armed with various contraptions like a bow and arrow, a broom, a blanket, a toy guitar, a pooja thaali, a wig, a flower garland , a sword and crown, a cricket bat, an inflated duck and a three-wheel scooter.

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No, this wasn’t out of a bizarre costume drama rehearsal, just a task assigned to us by an anonymous ‘Voice’ who goes by the sobriquet of ‘Bigg Boss.’

Fourteen journalists. Twenty four hours. One 4,500 sq ft house. 40 cameras. No escape. I was back at the Bigg Boss house in Lonavala, getting a taste of what lay in wait for the 14 celebrity contestants to be isolated here for 84 days at a stretch.

Twenty hours sufficed to realise how disturbingly entertaining this could get. Metaphorical swords replaced pens and mikes, imaginary battle lines were drawn and blatant alliances were formed. Between all of this, 14 journalists were made to dance to the tunes of that ominously placid ‘Voice.’ The result was 24 hours of high-voltage song, dance and melodrama as 40 cameras and 14 mikes recorded every move, swivel, whisper, taunt, quirk, and pimple.

Before entering the house, two distinct groups were already evident. A majority of the 14 housemates were entertainment television reporters, exchanging affectionate greetings like best friends. Most of them were. Huddled in another corner were five print journalists (including me), eyeing this show of bonhomie with alarm. But courteous introductions were made and all seemed well enough.

A self-confessed Sambhavna Seth lookalike enthusiastically welcomed each of us into the house, breaking into a filmi dance at every opportune moment. Another contestant mimicked Rahul Mahajan’s inimitable laugh to hilarious perfection.

The chic interiors replete with inventive wall art, neon lighting, funky colour themes and quirky artefacts were approved. Collective sighs of relief were breathed for the separate restrooms for men and women. Dismay was expressed at the house’s shrunken size, jokingly attributed to recession. Only later was it revealed to be a clever ploy to get 14 strangers in each other’s faces.

discussing elimination tactics will be imprisoned in a depressingly bare ‘jail’ built in a corner of the lawn.

With the threat of elimination looming large, the air was thick with unspoken hints. Messages were communicated by way of songs like ‘Kahin pe nigahen, kahin pe ishaara. (A glance somewhere, a sign somewhere else).”

We print scribes knew we were outnumbered nine to five and unsurprisingly, two from our group were nominated with equal votes. A quick toss later, one of our number left us forever. The claws were finally sharpened and let out. Those of the written word gathered on the lawn, doing what only can be accurately described as “bitching” and discussing the nominations in great detail. Fortunately, we left the house before any of us could be imprisoned for our crime. Unfortunately, whatever happens in the Bigg Boss house never stays in the Bigg Boss house.